Memory Devouring
As of recently, I was deeply pondering the idea of memory devouring. I am throwing that out like this because it makes it sound like some evil plot from a movie or video game (at least FF: Crystal Chronicles comes to mind, I think). There is a bit more behind the real reasoning, though.
Most people who know me very well would consider me a pack rat, and I clearly am. I can walk over to my closet and pull out packets full of elementary school homework and early misspelled letters to my grandparents. I can wander over to my bookcase and dig out the first book I ever read, or reach behind my dresser and pull out every science project board and every school project poster board I've ever worked on. In fact, on this computer's main hard drive I have stored every single one of my instant messages back to 2003, every email back to 1999, and every file I've created (text, image, code, whatever) back to 1996. And I can once again reach into my closet to pull out old Apple II floppies with the files I created in kindergarten and elementary school. I keep old stuff. And why? Because they are all memories. Or rather, they are catalysts to keep my memories alive and active.
This is where the memory devouring comes in. I almost always have a low level hunger for old memories. It's quite common for me to spend hours sitting around my room digging through these old records, reading old papers and listening to old music that I hadn't heard in years. Every once in a while I'll suddenly be knocked back and stunned by the memories and mental images that are quickly revived by the material. It's an indescribable feeling, and one that often has a lasting impact. When I experience such a feeling, I often find myself rereading the same paper, or listening to the same song, over and over again. Each time I see the memory, but gradually the experience fades. And then the memory evokes no further significant emotional response, and it's relegated to the closet again, for a few more years until I dig it up and bring back the memories once again, with the original full power.
That's what I decided to call memory devouring. I am hungry for the high of nostalgia, so I seek out lost memories and partake of them until I've built up a resistance. And then I continue on until I am hungry once more, and I go back for more of that sweet nectar of the past.
I suppose I am a bit overly addicted to memories and the past. But to me, it's the second most important thing. Other human beings, friends, and family are always what matters most. But next comes memories. Memories are the ultimate present that our friends and family can give us, and once they leave this world, it is their final parting gift.
Most people who know me very well would consider me a pack rat, and I clearly am. I can walk over to my closet and pull out packets full of elementary school homework and early misspelled letters to my grandparents. I can wander over to my bookcase and dig out the first book I ever read, or reach behind my dresser and pull out every science project board and every school project poster board I've ever worked on. In fact, on this computer's main hard drive I have stored every single one of my instant messages back to 2003, every email back to 1999, and every file I've created (text, image, code, whatever) back to 1996. And I can once again reach into my closet to pull out old Apple II floppies with the files I created in kindergarten and elementary school. I keep old stuff. And why? Because they are all memories. Or rather, they are catalysts to keep my memories alive and active.
This is where the memory devouring comes in. I almost always have a low level hunger for old memories. It's quite common for me to spend hours sitting around my room digging through these old records, reading old papers and listening to old music that I hadn't heard in years. Every once in a while I'll suddenly be knocked back and stunned by the memories and mental images that are quickly revived by the material. It's an indescribable feeling, and one that often has a lasting impact. When I experience such a feeling, I often find myself rereading the same paper, or listening to the same song, over and over again. Each time I see the memory, but gradually the experience fades. And then the memory evokes no further significant emotional response, and it's relegated to the closet again, for a few more years until I dig it up and bring back the memories once again, with the original full power.
That's what I decided to call memory devouring. I am hungry for the high of nostalgia, so I seek out lost memories and partake of them until I've built up a resistance. And then I continue on until I am hungry once more, and I go back for more of that sweet nectar of the past.
I suppose I am a bit overly addicted to memories and the past. But to me, it's the second most important thing. Other human beings, friends, and family are always what matters most. But next comes memories. Memories are the ultimate present that our friends and family can give us, and once they leave this world, it is their final parting gift.