No matter how many times I remark about it, the feelings of surprise and anxiety that spring forth from the quickening passage of time never fail to arise. In simpler words, I can’t believe it’s March already. Is it just me, or does time appear to pass faster as you get older? I try to remember what I might have been up to years ago around this time, and without the aid of old blog posts, drawings, diaries, or school schedules, I might have been at a loss.
It’s a funny thing, too, looking over previous blog posts and drawings. Each and every time I look back on them, I am torn by simultaneous impulses to create and destroy. “Are they worth turning into an archive? Who would want to see them besides me? I can’t believe I was ever this stupid, this naive. I should destroy them before anyone else has a chance to see them.” The pack rat in me silences these thoughts and allows the posts to live for another day, regretting that I ever allowed the impulse of destruction to take hold. I continue to lament that I no longer have any blog posts from periods earlier than my senior year of high school, dating as early as October 2002.
More often than not, these posts have served as a valuable means for reflection and catharsis. Even looking back on them now, their purpose remains fruitful. The gaps between posts also serve as points for meditation, as a voice is apparent even in the silences of the last seven years of my life. A part of me wants to begin a new project based on those posts, to revisit them and comment on them as if I am an outsider unto myself. I’ve changed so much and yet not at all) since then that it does not appear to be the difficult task you’d think it would be. At the very least, it would be an interesting writing exercise. I could make a character of myself.
But we’re all characters, aren’t we?