Within the pages of his brilliant and beloved self-reflection, St. Augustine of Hippo observes: “in the immense court of my memory, sky and earth and sea are readily available to me, together with everything that I have ever been able to perceive in them…and there I come to meet myself.”
That is well and good for our ancient comrade, but as many of you know all too well, my memory is more of a coat closet than an immense court. And so, after resisting valiantly for so long in the battle of technological takeover (Twitter! Droid! All you angry birds! You’ll never take me alive!), I wave the white flag and give in to the blogosphere for the sake of communicative expediency and Dumbledore-like memory storage strategy.
I hope to be honest, but not awkwardly so; I hope to be expressive but not exaggerated; I hope to be grateful but not boastful; and like an 82-year old man on a heavy drink diet of prune juice, I hope to be regular but not too much.
And if no one reads this, at the very least I will in a few years (or, more than likely, a few months), and recall that, oh yes! I did travel here!, and wow! I forgot about that life-changing event!
Here’s to you, synthetic memory.
(This post dedicated to Amy Easley, Isaac Miller, Puerto Rico airports, and not wordpress.)
(This post dedicated to Amy Easley, Isaac Miller, Puerto Rico airports, and not wordpress.)
