A lot of my reflections, and stuff I write in poetic forms deal with some form of saddened state. I guess it comes with being an acutely depressive person. I don’t deal well with depressions. They always suck me to the brink that sometimes, I’m not sure of being able to get up again.
Words like “memories” and “pictures” make constant repetition in my composition of poetic noodling. I think because they play a big part in how they effect my well being. Sometimes these words imply a haunting tale that reminds me of a beautiful past now being trapped in the enclaves of memories or in other cases pictures. Memories have movement and they are somewhat alive. It’s like replaying a movie you have watched or something like that. It’s just that we just replay the ones we like, or rather the ones that played a vital role that instigated happiness or the mark of sadness. I guess that’s how I would explain memories.
Pictures on the other hand, are stilled images of the past. Now with technology, and the birth of digital cameras, we keep only the best and throw away the ones we don’t want. We also have the option to edit pictures to make them look good. Picture have a way of reminding us of only good times. Well, for those knowing the context of the pictures, the hidden emotions behind them, they conjure up a lot of things. Like feelings and that of the deep friendship or love or mutual bond between the people in the pictures. Well, this speaks to pictures that have people in it and not just scenery or stuff like that. But these mixed baggage of what is infused in them are brought to the attention of those having emotional attachment to them. A flood of evocations are conjured, where one travels through time and finds him or herself strapped in the past when that particular moment was taken.
But that’s just as much as what they do. In the context of disappointment or when something has gone wrong, memories and pictures are sometimes rehabilitating tools of regret, where past happiness cannot be resurrected. Sometimes they remind of good times and give maybe some slice of past joys that were evident. But most of the time they play haunting tale of what has passed and in some cases tales that may not be repeated. I use may because somethings get redeemed. Well sometimes I try to act my part as an optimist in my situation. Sometimes I wonder if hope has in it some form of real substance in this situation. Time will tell I guess.
Well, these are just musings on an afternoon where I’ve neglected lunch. It’s probably the empty stomach that has propelled me to write, just write something just at the top of my head. It’s funny how this reflection comes in the context of reading Horton’s book, Rollin’s post, and having an empty stomach.