One of the main reasons I blog is to retain memories. My mind works fairly different from the lot of the world, and I recall the strangest of things other people find rather insignificant. All the same, I forget things, such as most of myself before I was 24, along with the little tidbits that make my life happy. Writing these thoughts down makes me feel save that I’ll never forget these memories, and I can always look back not only at what I knew, but how I presented it, which is a whole other facet to the spectrum of memory. Plus I like the idea of putting my thoughts together in one coherent piece which can fully explain what I feel better than what usually happens when I explain on the fly. Too many listeners get frustrated with the stutters and pauses I like to take while reminiscing.
What I wish to remember can either be huge documents, or 140 character tweets (and I’m a firm believer of using all 140 characters to the greatest effect). Most of the time they are fairly straight forward, while a good many are cryptic and hold meaning to me only. The latter is a form of data compression for me, where in I don’t need to recall everything about the memory, and just the keywords and feelings expressed in the note I write. When I read my otherwise incomprehensible writings, my brain makes all the proper connections and I have perfect clarity. In theory.
Thus we come to the “Dear Blank” mission played November 12, 2010. I honestly don’t know what it was like many other of the missions Akoha offered, though I’m fairly certain I played it the wrong way. As I took it, I wrote a letter to someone who would remain anonymous but meant a lot to me, and I wanted to express my feelings of that without letting on who it was. Obviously this person filled me with awe and effected me in such a way I can only assume made me into the man I am now (that I’m much of one is another topic). I know this sounds vague, but we’ll return to that thought in a moment. To the words I cried out through the Internet…
I know I’ve made many “jokes” to people about you, but it comes from a child who believes he can’t be a part of what you are. And even as an adult, I know this very much to be true, but as an adult I can let it be known I find you amazing and wondrous. What you create is so alien to the world, but your voice behind it all continues to give me shivers. Continue to be a dream to me, and I shall write of you through my years. You’re in my heart.
The joke about all this? I have no idea who I was even talking about anymore. The “Blank” was indeed someone I had intended to remember through this Akoha mission play and utilize my brain’s data compression, but I’ve forgotten who it was I threw these words out to. Assumptions can be made, such as a friend, acquittance, musician, celebrity, etc. but I won’t set anything in stone because I can’t know for certain. As such, these words now only fill me with a empty longing for someone that truly is Blank, whom I know exists somewhere continuing to inspire the world.
So I have to wonder how credible my writing has been if something as simple yet meaningful as this could already be forgotten? About a year and a half later isn’t long at all, yet it’s already enough to make me forget who exactly left these feelings in my heart. I’m quite aware my mind is still expanding, yet I loathe the idea of it already losing the capacity to learn and retain as it used to. It’s one of the greatest fears a friend of mine has, and I find it hard to refute his flubs when I have enough of my own. I intend to not let it sit in my mind, and at most just another piece of data compression because I have enough in here that’s already bogging down my ability to function. Best I can hope for is that I am an able enough storyteller to tell my older self what was good in my life when I lose the ability to recall it. As it goes.