Don't got much too say. 'Cepting it's my birthday. Was born some 32 years ago.
Thinking mebbe the thing to say is whut's done been said already. Lookee here at one o' muh best friends words. They nice and proper they is.
http://abilynn.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/mx3d-ignls/Women's Bain-analyzing a thing too damn much
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
False Memories
I have noticed lately that when I tell some stories from my past, certain folks have begun to claim my experiences as their own. Hating acorn squash and sitting at the table for hours until I came to my senses to eat it, is now apparently something that my brother remembers as being his story.
Having a friend who had partied too hard accidentally pee all over my things on a trip to New Orleans many years ago is now apparently something that happened to my friend Margo. She also claims I was sharing the bed with the same partied-out friend. Although the reality is that SHE and I were sharing a bed, and I was the one who woke up to my phone ringing (my grandfather had passed away and someone was trying to tell me)only to discover the sound of running water nowhere near the sink of the bathroom. Upon inspection, I discovered the source, dangerously close to my belongings stashed on the floor next to said-partied-out friend's bed. I had to hand-wash my sweater and later tossed out my purse. Gross gross. But Margo swore up and down that the memory happened to her.
I was indignant of course-how dare she take my own awesome victim-story, one worthy of the eye-popping looks of disgust I sometimes crave for attention. Oh no she didn't. I set her straight in an accomodating, reluctant-to-start-a-fight way by conceding that she must have woken up after me, while it was still happening, and I pointed it out to her. She settled into that explanation, but even that is not true. What is true, is that 2 hours later, when the alarm went off and the six of us who were crammed into that room got up to get ready to drive back to Houston, I pulled her aside and told her. I know this assuredly because this was the weekend Grandpa died and most of these details are burned into my memory as a result. Less than three hours later I was in a van crying my eyes out while my slightly awkward, hungover friends were silent and unsure of what to do with me.
But was I really certain? It brings to mind a lot of questions. I mean, if brother and Margo were as certain as I know I am, what's to say they aren't the ones with the rightful ownership of these memories and I am the thief of the story? How reliable are our brains really, and why does this happen?
I have read articles about studies regarding witness testimony and how unreliable that is, how much we are all influenced by our own biases and how hard it is really, to give accurate descriptions given the numerous factors that get in the way, both external and internal. There are a lot of articles and studies done on false memories, as well. Apparently the only way to determine which of our memories is true is through outside collaboration. Although my petty self would not mind doing this, I know the other people involved probably cannot be bothered.
That being said, I am going to go ahead and exercise my virtue of detachment and....move on.
Having a friend who had partied too hard accidentally pee all over my things on a trip to New Orleans many years ago is now apparently something that happened to my friend Margo. She also claims I was sharing the bed with the same partied-out friend. Although the reality is that SHE and I were sharing a bed, and I was the one who woke up to my phone ringing (my grandfather had passed away and someone was trying to tell me)only to discover the sound of running water nowhere near the sink of the bathroom. Upon inspection, I discovered the source, dangerously close to my belongings stashed on the floor next to said-partied-out friend's bed. I had to hand-wash my sweater and later tossed out my purse. Gross gross. But Margo swore up and down that the memory happened to her.
I was indignant of course-how dare she take my own awesome victim-story, one worthy of the eye-popping looks of disgust I sometimes crave for attention. Oh no she didn't. I set her straight in an accomodating, reluctant-to-start-a-fight way by conceding that she must have woken up after me, while it was still happening, and I pointed it out to her. She settled into that explanation, but even that is not true. What is true, is that 2 hours later, when the alarm went off and the six of us who were crammed into that room got up to get ready to drive back to Houston, I pulled her aside and told her. I know this assuredly because this was the weekend Grandpa died and most of these details are burned into my memory as a result. Less than three hours later I was in a van crying my eyes out while my slightly awkward, hungover friends were silent and unsure of what to do with me.
But was I really certain? It brings to mind a lot of questions. I mean, if brother and Margo were as certain as I know I am, what's to say they aren't the ones with the rightful ownership of these memories and I am the thief of the story? How reliable are our brains really, and why does this happen?
I have read articles about studies regarding witness testimony and how unreliable that is, how much we are all influenced by our own biases and how hard it is really, to give accurate descriptions given the numerous factors that get in the way, both external and internal. There are a lot of articles and studies done on false memories, as well. Apparently the only way to determine which of our memories is true is through outside collaboration. Although my petty self would not mind doing this, I know the other people involved probably cannot be bothered.
That being said, I am going to go ahead and exercise my virtue of detachment and....move on.
Skip-a-month
I cannot believe it is already November. A lot has been going on, but mostly I am just not on the interweb very much anymore.
Recent bloggable topics that reside in my head but may never make it online:
-the most perfect beautiful day i have ever known
-facing mortality
-false memories
-managing expectations
-Teaching the Faith
-Chameleons
That being said, or written, rather, I have a few minutes of lunch in which I will, in fact, blog something.
Cheers.
Recent bloggable topics that reside in my head but may never make it online:
-the most perfect beautiful day i have ever known
-facing mortality
-false memories
-managing expectations
-Teaching the Faith
-Chameleons
That being said, or written, rather, I have a few minutes of lunch in which I will, in fact, blog something.
Cheers.
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