Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey

I don’t usually take pictures of places I’m in. They say pictures help to remember, but I insist on not taking them. Stupidly so?

Pictures are nice if you know the basics of taking them (or in other words, how not to take them). Plus, they help to remember.

Still, I try to remember without the help. I keep thinking maybe the pictures would distort my memory of this or that moment, maybe they would spoil what I experienced.

Remembering without the help of pictures is a lousy practice. You forget so much it makes you cry.

I wish I could handle time, and memory — these two are really peculiarly connected — more easily. I wish I were able to decide which memories not to lose, and always know where (when?) to place them on the timeline of my life.

But I forget. Even the greatest of moments, I forget. I lose track of events, misplace them on my timeline, stretch or shorten them inappropriately.

Sometimes it’s the sadness that makes me do it, sometimes it’s the happiness of living.

I wish I could handle time, and memory, more easily. I sometimes write down stuff, such as my impressions from a movie, or what songs a band played during a concert, to help myself  remember.

But I’m a lousy writer, too. And I forget to write the stuff down.

So, what will this wibbly wobbly, timey wimey thing do with my memories?

I keep on trusting time, and carry my memories in the mind. I trust the mind, too, and believe it will take good care of the good ones.

But sometimes, I also help myself with a picture — this one is from vacation:

In the distance, St. Peter's and St. Paul's Cathedral in Brno
In the distance, St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s Cathedral in Brno

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I'm an unprofessional writer, reader and translator. I'm also a walking, breathing and listening addict. And I love being all that.

6 thoughts on “Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey”

  1. I understand this. My memory has always been sporadic. I don’t remember things that did happen. I do remember things that did not happen. Pictures, documents, memory objects get lost mangled misplaced.
    I feel that there are big parts of my past that are at risk for no longer existing.
    I have always contemplated this, after I lost months of memory subsequent to a major head injury, in 1987.
    All that I trully own is my scars.
    But, I suppose the Buddhists would say, you are not your memories, you are not your past.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I like what the Buddhists would say 😉 the past is not enough to define yourself – there are still your dreams, your thoughts, the people you live together with, your favourite animals and whatnot. And that’s not enough either, I suppose.
      But the memories you have are also important for understanding yourself, I think.
      And oh. I just want to ask you, what do you mean by things that didn’t happen? Like plots of books you read?
      Thanks for stopping by!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Trying to document everything is a practice that makes me nervous, mostly because I’ve had grandparents die who literally lived close to my house. When they pass, there are so many things to sort through and return, things that have no meaning to the living and clearly meant something to the dead. Then, you have to go through and wonder what was really important vs. what was only perceived as important in the moment. It’s tough business. I say stop documenting and enjoy life. When you take a picture of an event you really enjoy, just take one, not a whole roll (okay, I don’t know what it’s called with digital cameras).

    Liked by 1 person

    1. A whole lot? I don’t know either. ;D
      You can very well both enjoy your life and document some of the events. Not every one, and not with too many words, or pictures – maybe just the amount you, or somebody else, will be able to read, or view later? It’s true that it’s possible to overdo it, like when someone posts shitloads of (identical) pictures on Facebook, or writes “In Search oh Lost Time”…

      Liked by 1 person

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