An Update In Four Parts
Part the First
Memory is such a precarious thing. How much of what we remember is fact? How much is fiction? Does it even matter? After all, real or not we're as shaped by the false memories as we are the real ones.
It's the strangest feeling in the world to realize that you're the only one who remembers a particular event, a moment in time. Maybe the first time a cute boy smiled at you in the seventh grade, or the time your little sister spent days writing a poem for your birthday that was full of grammatical errors and sickly sweet imagery and yet still made your heart swell because this was your sister telling you, on the record, that she loved you. Important stuff. Stuff that gets forgotten, until you're the only one who remembers, the way you felt, the way they looked. If you forget, that moment's lost forever.
Part the Second
I love my friends. Specifically, Lexi and Lauren, who've been busily pimping me like the cheap five dollar ho I am. They're the best friends ever, and if anybody sees Lex making noises like this isn't the truth, well, send her to me. Cause she rocks.
Part the Third
I love my job. I really, really do. Have you *seen* the boy Lane's hooking up with? Hubba hubba. And that's really all I have to say about that.
Part the Fourth
My cats are slowly killing me. By the time you read this, I will have died a slow death due to blood loss. Maybe it's the time of year, maybe it's their recent dietary change, maybe they're jealous I met Joey McIntyre and they didn't, but whatever it is, if they scratch me one more time, it's into the laundry they go. I mean it, too.
Memory is such a precarious thing. How much of what we remember is fact? How much is fiction? Does it even matter? After all, real or not we're as shaped by the false memories as we are the real ones.
It's the strangest feeling in the world to realize that you're the only one who remembers a particular event, a moment in time. Maybe the first time a cute boy smiled at you in the seventh grade, or the time your little sister spent days writing a poem for your birthday that was full of grammatical errors and sickly sweet imagery and yet still made your heart swell because this was your sister telling you, on the record, that she loved you. Important stuff. Stuff that gets forgotten, until you're the only one who remembers, the way you felt, the way they looked. If you forget, that moment's lost forever.
Part the Second
I love my friends. Specifically, Lexi and Lauren, who've been busily pimping me like the cheap five dollar ho I am. They're the best friends ever, and if anybody sees Lex making noises like this isn't the truth, well, send her to me. Cause she rocks.
Part the Third
I love my job. I really, really do. Have you *seen* the boy Lane's hooking up with? Hubba hubba. And that's really all I have to say about that.
Part the Fourth
My cats are slowly killing me. By the time you read this, I will have died a slow death due to blood loss. Maybe it's the time of year, maybe it's their recent dietary change, maybe they're jealous I met Joey McIntyre and they didn't, but whatever it is, if they scratch me one more time, it's into the laundry they go. I mean it, too.