All ladders no snakes
There were so many things I was supposed to be doing. The first thing that comes to mind: hiring an accountant and auditor. A task that is scary, but also makes me sound like a grown-up. For a whole day, words in emails I wrote, such as ‘in due time’ or ‘in timely manner’ keeps gnawing at me. I suppose that’s what adulting is- tiny teeth nibbling on the back of our necks. Meanwhile, I don’t want to romanticise ‘the child in all of us’. ‘Being fortunate’ is not an annotation either. Childhood is part of our lives yet they are not sole reason why we crave to act, behave, live a certain way. We are the way we are at present from all that we accumulate in life. It is all encompassing. If our lives are ladders or staircases, why single out a particular steps or a special flight, then accredit it for taking you where you are right now? By celebrating one small portion of life, the rest was dismissed, when in fact every single steps beneath your feet brought you here.
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Is there no romance in my life? How about all the poeticism I live by and tears shed for beautiful sunsets lights, or that time me and Ben cried in silence while watching Cave of Forgotten Dreams? Dreams aren’t romantic, they were what our brains do to process our days, our lives and our experiences. The ‘forgotten’ part was the romantic part perhaps? The nostalgia? Or the realisation of something innate like putting our handprint on walls, gathering rocks, painting a picture to mark what we see? The romance of it all is that there are parts missing, forgotten. In that case, isn’t how we naturally perceive our day to day, where we are bound to miss out some details by the time we dream, isn’t that the real romance?
There will always be something missing in the way we remember good and bad times. To reminisce is to fill in the gaps with something inventive with our present interpretation. How is it different to data, photographs, writings - they were but pocket of truth for a specific moment, we can interpret however we want with it, but the way we interpret it in the present won’t change how they were - being collected, made, scripted. To remember is in itself romanticising, missing out on details so that we can go back and reinterpret those memories again and again. “I like ending things when they still have a little more to give, so that I am more likely to return.”