I don’t have very many childhood memories. This sometimes leads me to believe I’m probably some kind of alien with artificially implanted memories to keep me believing I belong with humankind. Like any day now my true self will bob to the surface and loads of suppressed memories will come popping to the top of my consciousness like so many caramel apples.
Every now and then I’ll hear someone talking about how they remember the time they were three and their sister dunked their head in their spaghetti bowl. Or the time they were seven and they found out Lucky Charms weren’t magical, just delicious.
I always find myself getting a little jealous over the bubbling reservoir of memories they have to choose from. Like how do you even remember that far back? I have albums of pictures and a small library of home videos that my parents compiled that’s tells me what I looked like and what I was up to at those ages, but I don’t actually remember having done most of the things my parents (supposedly) have documentation of. Most of my childhood memories exist in my mind as a mist of latent emotions, photographs and fumbled experiences.
There was a point in high school when I tried to write down as many childhood memories as I could before they slipped away in the fog of adulthood. Even then I still didn’t come up with very many. Often I found that what I thought was a memory was just a rerun of a home video I’d seen. Not something I actually remembered from the point of origin in my relatively short human timeline.
So these days I try really hard to keep track of what’s happening in my life on paper. Not that I keep regular journals of my every day life per se. I only do that when I have a specific dilemma I want to work through. But I do have many journals around the house which all serve different purposes. One is for quotes and/or mantras I find interesting. One is for a writing project I’m working on. One used to be a dream journal that is now complete. One is a prayer journal. One is for Japanese study of words I’ve picked up from movies, shows, or music. One is for drawing. One is for survival skills I think are useful should my country suffer some sort of large scale cyber attack or zombie apocalypse. One is for jotting down ideas I don’t want to forget.
Sometimes I laugh at myself because I have the creeping feeling that all these journals are just an excuse to lie to myself that I’m not a useless wench who can’t finish a thing. Butwhen the demons quiet down I know that’s not true. At different points in time they will all become complete and be wonderfully useful in their own right. If only to look back on things I’ve learned or created. They’ll all represent a particular thought thread, a particular project, a particular moment & emotion. In this way I’ll have immortalized different periods of my life in more than the usual day by day account format.
Oh, yeah. And there’s one more journal I have.
The one I keep with you guys. 😘