The Things We Forget
This morning I searched and searched for the time needed to compose a quality post for you, but alas none was to be found. I have to rush to work for a twelve hour rendezvous with madness, so this is the best I can offer.
I hope you don’t mind, Gwen.
Gwen is a blogging buddy of mine. We have many things in common – our religious upbringing, family craziness, and a love of writing. Her’s blows my mind.
In her latest post, she shares about The Persistence of Memory. Here’s a snippet:
It seems that so much of what we remember about our past are those dramatic moments, moments more likely to contain rage and pathos and passion than calmness or happiness or boredom. Do we remember those things because they make good stories and retelling the tale makes it stick? Or do we truly prefer to think of ourselves as living from thrilling adventure to animal despair?
Do yourself a favor. Click on the link, either the title of her post above, or her site “Woman on the Verge” in my blogroll. You won’t recover quickly.
Gwen, you’re one of my blogging heroes. Thanks for your prodding and honesty.
Now I’m off to work.