Linda, venez raconter des histoires

Personal histories are like memories. A bit dodgy when you think too much about it. There's a picture of me in Sandakan up on a look-out when I must have been about 5 or 6. And I have a memory of that day where I can almost imagine the car. The trouble is the origin of the memory - which came first, the picture of the actual, real memory? It could very well be that the memory I have was inspired by the picture and then I added the rest in. See what I mean? It's trickier than you might think and once it's in your memory banks, it's difficult to dislodge it and start over. 

Recent history has been good overall despite some anxiety inducing events which fortunately some good sleep and mosquito killing help to alleviate. Never underestimate the power that sleep deprivation has over one's mind, and more importantly, one's interpretation of messages, actions, even gestures and looks. 

This reminds me, I want a sabbatical to recharge, but the boss tells me to take on graduate students. Feh. 

Anyway, the long and the short. 

The long: Lay on the Agony. Wail. Beat one's chest and gnash one's teeth (but carefully cos of loose, old fillings). Cry over spilt pudding. Sulk and generally behave like a big baby who doesn't have his rattle. 

The short: get some sleep and realise that it's never as good as you wished, but it's also never as bad as you fear. 

So in the end, you roll with it and you don't do obsessive things like hunt through your calendar to confirm or delete memories that may or may not be true because there is very little return in chasing shadows. Instead, think of times past when the lights go brown, and you're encircled by good feelings that keep you safe even if your foot goes to sleep, and you set your pants on fire (almost - it was warm to the touch damn it). Those are the moments, which even if fleeting, are the ones that remind you of all that is good in the world. And that which is good for the world (come into my world...) must be nurtured whatever the result. The agreements remind me that it's not always about you (except when it comes to speakers), and that whatever happens, you are the one who decides whether you regret your own actions or not in the future. As Mr. Carson says, life is nothing more than the acquisition of memories, and in the end, that is all we have. So I must be sure that the basis of my memories are born from uncompromising integrity. 

Now to go repair or replace a pot what the engineers broke when moving a couch. Double Feh.