(What I) Bec(am)e
In a world where experience is the only fathomable sense of grounding I have, those experiences become sacred relics of my worn personalities, my old memories. These memories then act as the guide on the journey of discovering similar experiences. A macro analysis of this model shows how I have lived my life, slipping, jumping, falling, and rising into new experiences, creating new memories, and then repeating the cycle over and over again until my experiences equate to my perception of my own universe.
A bad experience in a city might paint an entire geographical location in a negative light, a school might be terrible in my opinion because of the less than ideal experiences had there, laying in bed at night waiting for the sun to rise might be the most relaxing thing to me due the countless nights I've come to find my self in the same situation, yet to others this habit might seem odd or unique. We share these experiences but analyze and archive them differently.
At a certain point these natural experiences become diluted or enhanced by repetition. The things that used to feel good don't feel good anymore, things that used to scare me terrify me now, the countless archived memories I used as a guide to discover new experiences have transformed into new emotions and these new emotions are foreign, misunderstood, and alien at first. It was when I was reflecting on this acquisition of new memories that I noticed I had actively been changing my own memories and experiences to better reflect who I am now. What was once my sacred tome of guidance in childhood, had been corrupted by nothing more than my newest self who saw these changes as convenient. Do we truly remember what it was like to 'hate broccoli'? or do we just rewrite the memory with the current taste of broccoli and pretend the hatred to rationalize the memory. I realized I have been rewriting my own history to validate my current choices. The person who I see myself as, has to be rationalized in terms of the various memories I have. Memories which constructed who I've become today only through revision.
If who I've become doesn't mesh with what I was, then the more I try to force the past into the mold I wish the future to represent. Those old memories that passively corrode what I am now, think of them as errors in the new code; bugs, are modified to a point where they can be more comparable to what I see as true today...
If memories are not protected from time, then reflection on the past can only lead to a rewriting of those memories to further validate ones newest self identity. Fond experiences from yesteryear carry with them not only the original action, but also a collage of changes, alterations, exemptions, and additions after years of reflection. If this can be accepted as a plausible notion, then every memory I have is not a memory but an active draft of thought and experience that can be altered to validate who I am. And perhaps altered to validate who I could be, as technology and society sees fit.
If there is one thing that are mine and mine alone it is my memory, but if my memory is affected by my current state of mind, then it is the current state of mind that is more sacred than memory.