Bridget Post: Memory

This week has definitely been one of the longest of my life. I'm really starting to realize how very fast time has been moving. It's like every time I blink another 24 hours passed and I am left wondering where all this time has gone. While I am on the subject of time, I think I want to talk about a topic that came up in Roswell in my blog this week. I actually watched it again this morning for no reason at all and became intrigued with how it deals with time as being some kind of enemy that will eventually take away our memories, turning us all in to amnesiacs.

This caused me to take a deeper look into memory and the actual act of remembering in relation to time. It's true what he said in Roswell because as time passes and we get older, we do tend to forget our earliest memories. Its like with each day that goes by, a little bit of me vanishes. When I say "me" I am referring to my memories of course because they are a large part of who I am. Having said that, one can understand how fearful it is to think that there might actually come a time when you forget many of the memories you have worked so hard to create and keep. I can't imagine what I would do if I woke up one day and I no longer remembered the last day I spent with my older brother before he died or my first kiss or even the day Barack Obama was elected president. I can barely take it when I can't remember where I put something much less to lose and know that I have lost an entire memory. But then again, if the memory is lost to me how will I ever know that it was once there?

I guess that is what makes memory so unique, the fact that we have sooo many yet we are not even aware of how much that we don't remember. For instance, yes I remember my first day of college but I do not remember the name of the first professor I saw that day, nor do I remember any of the people who were in that first class with me. Yet, I do remember what I wore to school that day. I remember walking from Turlington Plaza to Little Hall and seeing this tree that had the weirdest looking branch on it. It was soo weirdly shaped that I had to pause to take a closer look and I haven't forgotten it since. Now thinking back I wonder what exactly was so intriguing about a meaningless branch. Besides its shape, I really don't know what drew me to it or why I still remember what it looks like. It's strange how we cultivate these memories choosing to remember some while forcing others out of our minds either consciously or sub-consciously.

Sometimes I wish I could remember the little details that our minds choose to forget. I wonder if a tiny detail such as the color of someone's shirt or the shape of a cloud in the sky, could change the memory all together for me. I will never know the answer of that, of course, because the bottom line is I can't remember.