on fading memories

Do you still remember me?
How do I look like, in the window of your memory?
Am I still me, or am I but a figment sculpted, distorted by the whims of your memory?

" Some memories will fade with time and some will be distorted by generalization... We need a signal to say, 'This is an important memory. Write this down and underline it.' That signal is emotion. When you have feelings of fear or joy or love or anger or sadness, these mark your experiences as being particularly meaningful.... And that function, memory indexed by emotion, more than anything, is what a brain is good for."
-The Accidental Mind, David J. Linden


I have been of late, silently wallowing over what I perceive to be my increasing "loss of memory"; a growing scattered-mindedness that requires, more and more so, the use of planners and calendars to keep me on track, keep me parallel with the practical world. For I tend to go off-kilter more than usual, so that the passage of time is mostly now skewered in my view, either crawling with the lethargy of a winter's day or else downright shocking in its sneaky alacrity (it's March already?) Untethered to the routine grind of a working world or the stone-cold reality of deadlines, my mind has been floating more and more into a world of dreams and ideas; as far as I can remember, this is the most unharnessed my boat has ever been to its anchor of reality.



And I am free.

My mind mentally unbridled to fill as I will with as many trinkets or poisons as I might choose.