While other people try to cope with things in their own way, I always turn on some great Chopin or Death Metal (whatever I feel like) and start writing about it. Sometimes my writing is just some scribble on a notepad or a Word-Document that ends up deleted after all. Once in a while I start something that ends up being some kind of short-story featuring a reflection of my life. If I like it, I'll save it for later, if not, it ends up in my Mac's trash basket.
But why am I doing this? It's not like a billion amazing things happen to me day by day that I just HAVE TO include in a new short story? What is it that makes pieces of life, and it doesn't matter wether these are good memories or bad, so special that we just have to include it in our flashbacks when we are working on the process of coming to terms with our past? Shouldn't we just leave things in the past, forgive and forget and move on?
Nope.
I have always been a person with hot troubles with forgetting bad things that happened to me. I'm currently in my 20th year on this planet and I still remember when one guy in my elementary school called me a Crybaby, Sissy, Whimperer, Whiner, Sniveller (pick your own translation of the German word with the same semantic features) because I was always too emotional - I still am and I will always be. I also remember the one time when one of my best friends (male) replied to a question from one of our foreign students at that time (year 2009 and she was Dutch) about what my prettiest feature was - he said eyebrows and from that on I could not stop thinking about how they look and what on earth made them stand out in competition with every other part of my body. I mean, they are just eyebrows (note to self: blogpost about the importance and prominence of eyebrows in the near future). He later told me that it was a joke (which pointe I still do not understand) but the actual point is: I will never forget this and I still don't know why this exact event is so important in my life. But do I want to delete this memory from my mind? Nope. Because next to all the negativity this memory brings along, there is always the memory that I moved on from this event. I survived it (more or less, but did my eyebrows?) and I made progress in life and I came to terms with my eyebrows - I mean, as much as you ever can. After all, they are eyebrows. Memories are constant reminders that you had a bad experience (next to very good ones of course) once (and now I'm talking about much worse things than somebody saying the most beautiful thing about you is just a little nothingness for you, I'm talking about rejection, death and failure) and you were able to handle it. You still managed to live your life like a decent person, more or less.
Another thing I remember so clearly as if it happened to me yesterday: the day I confessed my innocent and young love (age 14, 15?), this event is filed under Most Stupidest Things My Body Has Ever Done. The exact same day, Derek Shepherd gave Meredith Grey a kidney in Grey's Anatomy. I can understand why I would remember this one thing, but that thing? That's just ridiculous and no, I will not try to explain why this side memory is glued to the big, bad memory in my mind. That's just the way it is and I can't ever change it because I can't change me (at least not to the extend of deleting memories from my brain, which I don't even want). And so I will always remember the exact sound of the laughter of the rest of class of the boy I fell in love with (age 11,12?) and instead of telling him I gave him one of the pictures that we shot when the photographer came to our school - covertly of course, as if he couldn't trace the picture, which was clearly showing my face, back to me. Just so you know, this is also filed under Most Stupidest Things My Body Has Ever Done. (another note to self: series of blogposts with this heading... this would be endless!)
To conclude this irrelevant blogpost: did you have a great day so far? Yeah, you did? Well, here's your memory of the most embarrassing thing that happened to you in the year of 2008. You're welcome.
PS: I've been using a lot of rhetorical questions in this post. I'm sorry.
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