what and why and how i think.

i know i've been mentioning memories a lot, but it's a topic that's been on my mind lately. (no pun intended).

i wonder what constitutes a memory. why is it that certain inconsequential things stand out in my mind more so than the ostensibly 'important' events that one ought to remember...like birthdays, the first day of school, christmas morning? while turning onto burlington mills from capitol blvd today i was reminded of a drive i took with beth jaxon through the boonies near st. charles last may. I had my windows rolled down allowing that familiar, pungent woodsy smell to infiltrate my car. the wind was dampening my arm as i dangled it outide the rolled down window, 'flying,' the way jules taught me. beth an i had gotten horribly lost as we were driving from creve couer lake to my house and ended up following some windy path through the hills in the pitch blackness.

why that memory? i suppose it's because i had placed myself in a similar environment: windows down, same humid air, same time of night, same desolate countryside landscape, same pitch-darkness. and somewhere in the process my mind connected the tangible scenery with my slight nostalgia for st. louis and old summers that have now passed. for best friends and my sister and joe and beth.

i wondered if i realized then that that summer evening spent being lost with beth would be a memory. 95% of my day is gone forgotten, and i suppose 95% of my life is gone forgotten as well. (don't read into this too much...i'm not lamenting this, just speculating). it's like when you edit a photo on photoshop and then save the image, compressing all those pixels of information. the more you save, the more information is compressed and ultimately lost.

I don't remember events. I don't remember names or dates or facts. I remember moods...tones and colors and hues and emotions. I don't remember the content of those 'deep conversations,' but i remember that they were had...with the midnight sky, the cool breeze on my bare arms. i inhale the sweet second-hand smell of cloves, and jules' blonde hair is tangled. i am confused or blissfully happy and in love with st. louis, with summer, with spontaneity and idealism...for the moment, at least, even though they come back to haunt me.

I wonder what it takes to make something 'memorable.' what's in a memory?

better yet, what will i remember from this summer?

My first inclination is this: I will not remember very much if I spend much more time alone. Those st. louis memories...those high school memories...those childhood memories...the strongest and sweetest ones deal with best friends or my sister. interactions...because when you're with other people they introduce new concepts and tecnhiques and preferences and flavors into your life which are worthy of being recorded in your mind. why remember the times sitting in your room, bored, and watching t.v. to pass the time? why remember the mundane and the monotonous?

and when i do remember monotony...i remember writing karah or jules a flowery note on a tattered piece of notebook paper in geometry class. i remember what i was thinking about, rather, who i was thinking about, to break up the monotony.

if i were stranded on an island, i wonder what kinds of memories i would have. i wonder if i would talk to the dolphins and the coconut trees and draw pictures in the sand.