i have this feeble belief that i’m clinging to. it’s a thought that runs along these lines: memory is a weeding out process, a sieve of sorts that says to us “here is what was significant, here is what was important, here is what will define you.” i like thinking that i have a sort of mechanism to help me sit up and take note of certain things in life.

i’m always looking for reasons to hold up as evidence that i should continue clinging to this belief, that i can have faith in the powers of my memory. i’m always searching for something to substantiate my theory.

i find it in forgetfullness. i love the fact that i forget things. that i subconsciously edit out whole chapters of my life.  today, as i was driving down along river road, i remembered something i had forgotten. i passed the house of my best girlfriend from junior high and it struck me that i hadn’t thought of her in years. somehow, whenever i’ve made my list of relationships that were important to me — she was curiously missing. and that’s a significant oversight, as my best girlfriends have been few and far between. now it seems so surreal that we were even friends, i can’t remember what her bedroom looked like nor what her favorite foods were. it’s as if she’s vanished over time. how did she somehow become a nonentity in the annals of my recollection? why did i choose her to forget? our friendship was no less or no more than any of the others i have remembered, or at least, i don’t consciously believe that it was. but perhaps, this is my own way of telling myself that our friendship was less important than others. the realization that i had almost completely forgotten her excited me, as strange as that may sound. it reassured me, providing validation for my theory.

i’m glad there are things in my life that are forgettable because it means that there are then, by definition, things in my life that are more memorable than others.


that sense of leverage is what i’m all about these days.

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