It’s just before midnight, and I’m at my friend Justin’s house. His wife Ashley (who is also my friend) has already retired, and I think Justin’s playing video games. I’ve spent the last five hours here at their kitchen table using their internet and changing every online and social media password I have. (Apparently I have a lot.) This is a project I started a couple weeks ago after a minor security breach on my laptop (I got a virus) but didn’t finish because I spilled hot tea on my keyboard (whoops). Anyway, I think I’m done now. Finally.
I just counted. 75 sites/passwords total. No wonder it took so long.
This afternoon I worked on my photo organizing project. Not organizing the photos–that’s already been done–but organizing my brain. I’m putting together a timeline of my life, like in a document. Super nerdy, I know, but last night I watched a 60 Minutes feature about rare people who remember every day–every second, really–of their lives. Like, what they had for breakfast on September 3, 1976, and what happened in the news that day. Anyway, there are like ten of these people in the world. Crazy. And I don’t need to reconstruct my ENTIRE life, but I would like to get some of the basics on paper. 1999: Graduated high school, worked at summer camp, started college, got first “real” job.
Today I concentrated on my first few summers at summer camp, 1997-1999, and took notes about things I remembered as I flipped through pictures. That was the summer I had one of the worst sinus infections ever. My temperature was 103 degrees, and the camp nurse wouldn’t let me see a doctor. (I was pissed off but didn’t know what to do or how to stand up for myself at the time.) This is the most fascinating thing about this project so far, that I recall so strongly my impressions of various co-workers and campers. In some instances, although it’s been twenty years, I still remember first and last names of people I barely knew. Just like that.
Weird how memory can be so randomly selective.
Here’s a picture from 1999, my first year as a counselor. (Before that I was an “assistant” counselor.) Boy I wish I had that fire now; my feet are freezing. They always freeze during the winter. Every year it’s five months of constant toe-frost.
So many memories come flooding back as simple information–that thing happened. But many others come back as information plus emotion. Like, I remember feeling pissed off, embarrassed, disgusted, turned off, turned on, whatever. I guess it strikes me now because at the time I wasn’t one to either trust my perceptions or acknowledge my emotions. And this is the fascinating thing for me, that although I wasn’t consciously processing what was going on back then, my body was still taking it all in, still storing the data in the background the way my computer saves my passwords.
I’m ready to call it a night. My feet are cold, and my brain’s all over the place. Just twenty-four hours ago, right before I went to bed, my dad knocked on my door to tell me that a dear family friend of ours had passed away unexpectedly. I think I cried myself to sleep. Today I’ve been in denial. I want to write about him because I think that would help, but I can’t tonight. It’s too late, I’m too tired, and I won’t do him justice. So maybe tomorrow when I can think straight and take my time. I don’t mean to be start a topic and not finish it. I’m simply–done–for now.
Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)
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A break is no small thing to give yourself.
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