Theory Creeping Into My Daily Life

Memories taint everything they touch. The second a memory is formed, be assured that wherever, whenever, whatever it associates with will never - quite - be the same. Brian Rotman's book "Becoming Beside Ourselves" discusses the "ghosted user" projected by every medium, and I'm starting to think that memory is the same. When I walked down the street with my best friend a few weeks ago, taking her to the last birthday party she would have in Columbia, there are a couple of things that stick out to me: my arm in hers, the sound of our boots on the sidewalk, the guys repaving the Bank of America parking lot. And I think that, at least for a little while, every time I walk by that parking lot and wander down that street, a little part of me will snap back to that awesome night.

Do you know what I mean, though? Every time you form a memory, that moment becomes indelible. As if it's not actually the memory so much as the fact that you are in the act of forming one - it's the process, not the product - and this re-perception of memory (versus the "remembering" process that may in fact be false) is triggered more by the fact that it was created in the first place. Mojitos don't taste the same anywhere but New York City. That Senate Street apartment will always give me a rush of memories of waiting and hoping for Brian. The sight of Neil Gaiman's "American Gods" will always feel like a moving train for me. Negative memories are the same way, but the less said about those the better. But then again, can any memory actually escape the potential for wistfulness, and thus can any memory truly be happy?

I swing between being terrified that it's so short and being proud that it's so long - I'm onto ten pages of my thesis. Now before you start getting worried, that's ten pages of densely packed information on single-space type. There's so much to elongate and elaborate on, so I'm not so worried about length anymore. And if I add more - about sound, a little more about memory, and some quotes from this blog - I think I'm nearing a decent length for a senior thesis. And the information, dear heavens, is coming close to the point where I lose the ability to keep track of it. I don't know how people can write books. Twenty pages of information is nearly too much for me.