February 24th, 2005

The Fucked-Up, Introspective Aesop's Fables of the Mind

It's often said that people achieve a certain immorality through the memories of others. I think it should also be noted that even before death, we get to experience perpetual youth through our own memories. I've relived some childhood memories enough that I've probably spent as much time recalling my youth as living it.

I tend to think something as spectacular and rare as life demands -- even if only by being possible -- that the living leave legacies more tangible than memories . Still, my own stumbling around and into the obstacles of life has left more dings and scratches on my consciousness than on the world, so I've decided not to discount the importance of memories entirely.

A coworker and I recently decided that the world can be neatly divided into the people who are happy with themselves, and the people worth knowing. That is to say that we relate to people who are constantly driven to improve themselves in some way. I've noticed my memories are very directly focused on making sure I don't become that other type of person.

The memories that really stick with me are associated with a deep sense of embarrassment, and each seems to carry a lesson, like some fucked-up, introspective Aesop's Fables to haunt my every waking moment. I thought it would be interesting to document some of them so people might understand the internal torment driving the twitch of a self-loathing grimace you can sometimes see in the corner my right eye if you watch closely.

I'll finish this up later with the particular memories I have in mind and their morals... I just wanted to get the idea and intro down so I could sleep...