The Daily Doodles

“The Inexorable March of Time”

Time moves slowly, when you’re a child
The free summers drag on, so sunny and mild
Yesterday was forever ago, and tomorrow is even worse
The wait for each birthday feels like a sinister curse.

Soon, the weeks become months, the months become years
Time slips by so quickly, and your memory smears
It all blends together, and you forget what it’s like
To feel time is endless, like when you were a tyke

Time moved slowly, when you were a kid
But soon all that you do, becomes all that you did.
It shouldn’t be frightening; time is all relative
While you can’t slow down your life, you can be sure to live.

Originally Posted 8/8/2011

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“Defragmenting the Brain”

Horrible memories next to good means the two often commingle.
You wish to remember a nice moment, but get that uneasy tingle.
Pleasant nostalgia ruined by things you wish you could erase.
Forgetting is usually impossible, but brains have a lot of open space.

Simply defragment your brain, store the dark memories to the side,
In the empty unused portions of the mind, you put them to hide.
There they can’t bug you, or infest what you wish to recall,
No more pausing on past regrets, slowing your brain to a crawl.

You’ll live happier not remembering anything that made you sad.
Filled with confidence knowing that you never did anything bad.
While over time that data may leak out, and flashes break through,
Just defragment your brain again, and you’ll never have to be you.

Originally Posted 10/24/2011

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“The First Memory”

While the colour of the kite will change, and so will how he recalls the weather (he wants to remember it as sunny and warm but other times it seems like it had to be windy and cold), the feelings of the moment are clear and not subject to the fuzzy mistiness of time.

He can still vividly recall the moment where the string on his kite breaks and the wind carries it away out of reach… he remembers running after it halfheartedly, knowing he couldn’t catch up, and watching it sail out of sight on the rocky Oregon coast, everything from the small perspective of himself as a two year old.

The little details always change (and each time he remembers the event, he knows he is likely remembering it incorrectly and projecting new memories into it to fill in the gaps), but that confusing sensation of sadness is still crystal clear, wondering what he did to cause the string to break.

The next thing he recalls is hugging his mom’s knee as she tells him it’s okay, and then his first memory fades away.

Posted 4/16/2012

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