How I See It, Volume 1, number 7, July 1999 How I See It I always picture my memory as being a large shelf in my mind. One of those places where one puts anything and everything into storage. However, with time and the growing complexity of life, I am running out of room. I have long realized that for me, memory has a finite space, the more shoved on the front of the shelf, the more falls off the back. Unlike the convolutions and mini crevasses of Einstein’s mind, the data that slips from my cerebral crevasses does not reappear on the level of E=MC2. Also, the decision of what falls off the shelf and what is retained is always a mystery. How important and relevant are the lyrics to songs I learned at age six or ten, when I am unable to remember someone’s name, the critical piece of information needed to demonstrate my point, or where I put the car keys? But who’s to say what is really more important. Are daydreams or wool gathering not as useful for survival as all the minutiae thought essential for everyday existence? I think so. I often work out 90% of a painting before I even touch the canvas, solve some of the world’s problems, and experience a greater understanding of many of my experiences and esoteric readings, all while trying to figure out just where I am and what I am supposed to be doing. Perhaps what I really need are wider gaps in my cerebellum, or maybe more RAM, or at least a bigger shelf.
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