Just a Series of Blurs

The time is now. Now is the time. It’s the time that I sit here in a computer lab, but instead of using the big computer, I’m actually using a smaller computer for no good reason other than the mouse only working about once every three clicks. I have a Nintendo 3DS to my right and a phone to my left. I have my laptop propped up on three books because, my gosh, my neck is in flaming pain from being up all night typing a paper. And I type this blog post on the 24th of September, 2015. A Thursday. It was a miserable mix of clouds and rain. And this is a moment I will never remember again.

The true fidelity of a memory is gone as soon as time consumes another fleeting millisecond. Life goes on, and no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to recapture this moment’s glory. Not even for a second. This moment will never come again, but what’s worse, to remember it is to alter it. The cruel irony of life is that even the most beloved memories are not authentic. They are idealized versions of past checkpoints. They’re precious because they represent us, but they are not truly us. The context will change. Then the orientation. Then the associated emotions. Before I know it, I’m typing a love note in the middle of March on a perfect spring day.

We are only aware of the passage of time. We cannot embrace it.

I suppose I could take a picture, but what would that accomplish? A photograph cannot capture the nuances of a moment. To take a picture is to take yourself out of a moment and become an independent observer of nothing. Sure, it’s a somewhat accurate depiction of what I see around me, but I’ll just go back later and add different context to the moment. Writing down daily experiences like I do helps, and probably helps a great deal. Still, we are fighting a loosing battle. From the moment we form conscious awareness, our fight for survival and our fight for precious nostalgia are at odds. Old memories fade, change, merge, until they’re just a forgotten, jumbled mess. Memories transform until life is just a series of blurs. And there’s nothing we can do about it.


About the photo: “Lonely Tree” I can’t explain why, I just love how this photo turned out. It’s simultaneously sad and beautiful.


Screen Shot 2015-09-07 at 4.15.06 PM


 

Every memory I’ve ever had is just out of reach. That’s today’s Daily Post prompt answer. Also, I’m sorry if I’m sad today. You’d be sad too if you had this much school work to do.


 

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