I believe that I am more rational than instinctive. This is because of a strange importance I attach to reasoning as compared to impulsiveness. So suddenly when I felt an urge to write, I, out of habit didn’t pay much heed. Strangely the impulse grew stronger and I found myself searching for a pen and a paper at one in the morning. I was about to start. But what did I want to write? I had no answer. It felt awkward. May be I should write about the wonderful time I have had in the past three years in college. I started to write but I didn’t like what I wrote. I tore off the page and it rightfully went into trash. I told to myself that fond memories are like wine, they become better with time. We should fall back to our past only when the present becomes insignificant. Let the memories mature, let it pass the test of time. Let me save it for the moment when the thought of college will simultaneously make me smile and cry. The time is not yet ripe. With this realization, I was left with nothing to write about. I stopped. I tore off this page and I should have thrown it into the dustbin.
Rehovot, Israel
18.07.07
3 comments:
Nice to see this one here :)
Thanks. Found the courage to post it atlast...
Hmm... Wine gets better because of yeast... presumably memories do because of Long term Potentiation (LTP) :D.
On a more serious note though, the pallette likes it because of its old, dry, rancid flavour. Grape juice might be just as appealing, had it not rotted in this way
Do memories ferment in the same way until, say, the mind is tickled just by the fact that they are old? Does it even matter if they were blissful or sordid? Does a memory of pain and humiliation necessarily evokes revulsion or that of ecstasy necessarily evoke joy? Warriors have forever carried their scars like trophies and ruined millionaires sobbed at their debauchery. I don't know!
And yes, if you keep yourself busy enough, I guess the time will never be ripe! And only time can tell.
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