So my cousin got a memory device that boasts 312 GB. And we’re all seriously impressed. All ‘Wowee, lucky him!’ types. That IS a whole lot of memory. Even a technologically challenged, certified IT moron, don’t-know-how-much-RAM-can-make-that-difference-in-your-life (and computer’s speed) person as meself realizes that. I love memory. To a point that I hoard things.
So there’s all this lovely memory going on. Phones that store up to 1000 phone numbers. (Yay! Now if there only was enough memory to hammer into a certain someone’s stupid brain to call me more often!) Memory to store photos of occasions we forgot to go for. Memory to store songs we forgot we had. Songs belonging to a time we’d rather forget. Memory to save movies we don’t have the time to watch. Memory to store games we’ve haven’t bothered to play. Memory to make up for the things we’ll not have in the future. Memory to hold onto things we’re scared to let go of and memory to erase with a Shift+Delete things we rather not remember.
It’s funny. The more memory we have the more amnesiac we seem to get. I forget names, faces, numbers, people, incidents and moments, and all I’m left with is a deep gash of loss. The time when I actually dialed numbers from memory – that misplaced, overrated sense of glamour when you dialed real quick beepbeepboopboopbeepboopbeep as opposed to my current, rather retarded way of dialing beeeeep…beeeeep..boooop….boop…beeeep…booooop…beep (“pleeeese check the number you have dialed”. “@$&^#*^”); the time when we recognized voices and squealed “Hey!” every time even if we spoke an hour ago or spent the entire day together at college – our brains did a lot more remembering. And it was things worth remembering. Where do I save that kind of memory. Apparently my head’s not quite reliable any more cause I can’t even remember how this post was supposed to end