The Dithering of a District Diva

I spent the better portion of the last year reliving both pleasant and painful memories. The latter part of that time period focused on the now-gone pleasant memories, which seemed to, inevitably, leave me less happy that they happened, more sad that they were gone.

This year has been markedly improved thus far and I have yet to suffer from a memory (except, of course, in the name of the book I am writing on the definition of love). Yet, I do remember how terrible last year could be at times; there were days I thought it would never get any better. But, as these things tend to do, it did actually get better. So much better that I actually wondered how I could ever think it wouldn’t have. I’d love to kick myself over what a giant waste of time it was, reliving now-gone pleasant memories that left me sad afterward.

But right in the thick of it, in the midst of utter despair, would I have erased those memories forever, if only I could? Unfortunately, I think the answer would probably have been yes.

I’m thinking about this after just watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, an old (if 2004 gets to be “old”) Jim Carrey, Kate Winslet movie. In it, Carrey and Winslet have a relationship that ends badly, so an impulsive Winslet goes to a doctor to have her mind erased completely of Carrey and their entire relationship. Heartbroken that Winslet would have him erased, Carrey undergoes the same procedure and throughout the film we see what their relationship was like, the bad memories towards the end of their relationship and the good ones at the beginning. Half way into the procedure, an unconscious Carrey realizes that he loves Winslet and has no more desire to erase her and tries desperately to wake himself up to stop the procedure or at least hold on to his favorite memories of her. It is a phenomenal movie, although I’m not entirely sure why it’s been dubbed a “comedy,” as I don’t recall laughing very often through it. If anything, I felt incredibly sad during and after watching it. Sad at the thought of not only losing love, but failing again to hold on to it, even in your memories. Such cyclical loss and failure seemed like it would be quite depressing.

And then I recalled that I had been reliving my own loss and failure for the better portion of a year, and subsequently became quite depressed, indeed. I immediately added that movie to the list of things that I watch when its time to feed my sadness.

Normally, when my sadness gets hungry, my stomach isn’t far behind, and the only thing that can satisfy it is a Red Velvet Cupcakery “summertime” cupcake. So, on the metro ride over, I wondered about a fresh start. Appropriately, a giggling baby bundled up in a stroller laughed and smiled at me behind a plastic wind shelter (what is the deal with these people wrapping their babies in plastic?). I thought about what this newborn’s blissful ignorance must be like. No one had yet broken her heart, she had no mistakes yet that she cared to relive (even pooing in her pants is not yet a source of shame). Would I willingly choose to revert back to such a state when it comes to matters of the heart gone wrong?

This is a potentially relevant question because such selective memory erasing technology does, indeed, exist! One of the main issues –as was addressed in the movie –will be the ethical standards involved, as well as whether doctors will be willing to attach themselves to such a controversial procedure (not to mention its legality or the potential liability floodgates that would be opened up).

But even if the procedure was at least legal –the ethics issue and my impulsive nature aside–I would hope that I would never undergo such a procedure. And not just for the cliche reason that my mistakes “made me who I am today” or for the thrilling fact that: (at last!) something happened to me. But mostly because it would not solve my problem.

I possess an uncanny ability to time travel and make myself at home in the past. Or, I can live entirely for tomorrow. It is about the only thing that I can relate to in that wretch of a book The Time Traveler’s Wife (awful book, really. Just the worst. Poorly executed, man-bashing, woman-bashing, marriage bashing. The author was really going through some issues. ) My toxic inability to remain in the present, to enjoy today, to live just enough for today, is my entire problem. And bad memory erasure will be about as effective on me as gastric bypass on someone who thinks everything will get better as soon as she has a Red Velvet Cupcakery “summertime” cupcake.

Although it has taken me over a year, I think I have mastered the art of recalling the past with out dwelling on it, in a way that allows for me to appreciate that it happened, learn from it, and move forward (if this seems like common knowledge, I do apologize!). That is step one.

Step two is to remain in the present. There are so many things that I want to accomplish this year, what with writing the book, staying current on the blog, taking the Bar, succeeding at work, and possibly taking on this amazing Masters in Political Communication program that I just saw. I am so utterly excited about the future that I am missing what today is.

Today in the District, the sun is peeking through my vertical blinds. I am nearly done writing this blog post that I have been trying to finish for days. Today, my mother is doing well, except for a cold she’s been trying to get rid of. Today my father is in Dubai looking at the world’s tallest building (although he might be in tomorrow, or yesterday?). Today my sister put aside the stress of her job to send me encouraging emails about mine. And it is only 11:16 A.M. There are 13 more hours left in today that I can play with. So here’s to living life like Omar on The Wire: “a day at a time, I suppose.”

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