Memories

Remember how you used to frolic and play in the meadows as the young calf you once were? Remember how you used to tackle and score tries so well in rugby, back when you had time and mates to do it with? Remember how you lost your virginity in a car-crash where one thing really just led to the other?

I sure do. And boy, does it peeve me good.

Remember that time we did that thing...

Reminiscing is a wonderful way for people to relive past glory and pleasant memories; it allows us to escape back to a time, when things were simpler, when petrol (as I remember) was only 79c a litre, when Bubble o' Bills were the ice cream to have and when you would happily trade your sandwich for a shiny Charizard Pokemon card.

For those with some sort of substantial background, they can remember how their initial was pulled out of the ballot and they were sent to Vietnam, how Johnny lost his legs and how they all got the clap from one particularly dirty whorehouse which they later found out to be occupied by the Vietcong. Oh, good times, good times, they would say.

But how they cause us to live in the shadow of our former selves. Oh yes, you would say, I was once cool, I once traded by sandwich for a Charizard, I once did a summersalt into a pool and I once broke my arm - see, heres the scar! But what have you done lately, my dear friend?

Remembering things makes us remember things we cannot do anymore, things we should have done and things that we would have done if we had our time again. For all the great memories we think about, theres another ten which we have suppressed, knowing that the mere thought of them would surely tear our brains apart and cause them to spurt out our nostrils and onto the nearest trophy or certificate we have.

Like that time where we wasted our holidays watching TV. Or that time where we got in trouble for burning mummies' wedding dress, or that time where we got molested by that paedophile at confession, or that time we saw our dog get run over and watched as its' entrails burst out of its face.

Remember that time when...

That's the worst thing about remembering. It's always so hard to forget once you've remembered something. But it's not the bad memories that haunt us the most, it's the good ones. The ones that you know will never have an equal, that ones that remind you that you'll never be that happy again and the ones that remind you of your former, fun, spectacular self and all the shenanigans that you used to get up to that you can't anymore.

Often, it's the pain of knowing you'll never have another memory like that again that makes reminiscing the hardest. Like that time where we broke into the principals office and took a crap on his chair, or that time where we set that cop car on fire by accident. It's not the memory of your dead dog that kills you, it's the memory of your dead life that kills you. To look back on past glory and know that you are now condemned to a life of mediocrity and humble service to whoever may be the leader of your country at that time is very hard to face, especially when your whole life was all about how you were going to be the next big thing at Hollywood, or about how you were going to cure all disease and be the first man on Pluto.

How could we forget when...

The grandiose memory of what was is something that is best forgotten. If we could all learn to forget the things that we remember, it'd be so much easier. We wouldn't feel like we were living in yesterday's shadow, and there would be no way but forward. Memories drag the human race down and back.

So next time you're at the pub with mates thinking about that one time you accidently put a bomb down the mayor's pants, think again. Think about how you should be not thinking about stuff that you've already done, and perhaps turning towards to future is more productive than looking back at things you can no longer do.

Friends, hate your memory.