i've been going through old diary entries to make a page of links to my favorites, mostly for my own reference. the past is so strange. in relation to HM, who i talked about in this entry. i was thinking about all the psychologists and researchers who came every day to ask him questions and study him. at first it seems depressing. that's his life: doing aimless activities and talking to psychologists. and they have to ask him the same questions every time. but really, it's more depressing for us to think about it. because he has no memory of any day. he doesn't know that they ask him the same questions every day.
and so memories create real happiness, in some sense. they create the possibility of comparison.
i've always been obsessed with recording everything, although it's gotten less insane. i used to have a special journal for when i was with my friends, i'd sit there and write down everything we were talking about, with quotes. then in my regular journal i wrote down everything i did during the day so i wouldn't forget. i thought that things that you forget may as well never have happened. i still think that, to some extent.
lately we've been having really interesting conversations with people and i almost started writing down conversations again. i should just get a tape recorder. but when you start being that dedicated the volume of the recorded material is overwhelming.
this obsession with saving everything is why i like photography so much. making the past mine. making beautiful things mine. (nothing belongs to us except in our memories.) i put my photos in albums religiously, and i go through about one album per year, starting 6 years ago. that's a lot of pictures, especially since i leave out about half. but i love having them there to look at later. some people put aside their past as soon as it happens, but i'm constantly reviewing mine.
after i read about HM and thought about whether he's happy or not, i didn't feel so bad about trying to save all my memories. maybe it's what keeps me sane, human, happy, real. if i can organize my artifacts from the past maybe i can make sense of my life.
[page of tree pictures.] by the way, i am 95% sure i'm switching my major to anthropology, from art. oh. my. fucking. god.