When I started this blog (almost a year ago!) I had some pretty big events to look forward to – I was about to move across the country with my partner and I was about to start graduate school. I began this blog with noble ambitions of documenting these big events and providing a running commentary on the library school experience.
Yes, well… we can see how successful that’s been, can’t we? (this sarcastic tone implies that I am not happy with my progress on this goal)
I think I haven’t been writing as much as I’d like because I feel like I should go back to all the trains-of-thought I’ve missed and catch you up on everything. Ridiculous, I know. That’s why I am simply starting with the here and now. The past is the past, as they say.
First of all, where does this renewed interest come from? Well, I watched a movie called The Devil and Daniel Johnston with my honey the other night before I had to run to a night class. She watched the DVD extras while I took notes about operating systems. I guess one of the comments from the extras was about just how incredibly well Daniel had documented his life – he even tape recorded his own arrest – and how this then makes viewers feel woefully underdocumented in their own lives. And the film is one of the best examples I’ve seen for *why* we document our lives – to be understood. If we didn’t have all those audio diaries and old films, would we have sympathized with Daniel half as much? Who knows. I think having all that visual and audible information certainly helped.
Which reminds me of the Up series from the BBC about the group of kids who have been interviewed every 7 years since they were 7. Something from those films I still marvel at — at 14, most of the kids were totally against whatever they had claimed to want at 7 years old. By 28, they were almost all doing what they had originally projected for themselves at 7. How about that.
But here’s the kicker: can you remember what you wanted to be when you were 7? I can’t. Haven’t a clue. It wasn’t documented. But these kids have the documentaries made about them (for better or worse) and Daniel has his home movies, his drawings, his tapes. I wonder how many lessons we lose and learn over and over just because we haven’t recorded enough of our experiences. Sure, some people have terrific memories. But even memories can be suspect. We have a convenient way of altering our memories to suit us at any given time. That’s why the information recorded while you’re in the moment, while the experiences or feelings are fresh, is the most important.
Yes, so, anyway. That’s why I’m keen on blogging again. The challenge will be stealing a few minutes here and there to post about whatever interesting idea comes up in class before I run off to another class or to work. That has always been the challenge.