On Forgetfulness.

I forget things. All the time. I forget whole conversations. Meaningful conversations! I forget not only the words I heard, but the words I said, words I said and truly meant. I forget things I read in school. I can't remember even one idea from a textbook I read over the course of three months. I forget lectures. I do, however, remember reading this passage from 'Everything is Illuminated' years ago:

He lost so many slips of paper over time, and keys, pen, shirts, glasses, watches, silverware. He had lost a shoe, his favorite opal cufflinks (the Sloucher fringes of his sleeves bloomed unruly), three years away from Trachimbrod, millions of ideas he intended to write down (some of them wholly original, some of them deeply meaningful) his hair, his posture, his parents, two babies, a wife, a fortune in pocket change, more chances than could be counted.

- Jonathan Safran Foer

I forget my ideas (some of them wholly original, some of them deeply meaningful) which scares me so much. When Mark asks me if I thought more about what we talked about yesterday, I feel like it is a trick question, and more often than not it is met by me with 'Uhhhh...' followed by a hasty 'Remind me! Remind me!' or 'Give me a hint!' I feel like a dolt in these situations. I feel like my mom, who asks us the same questions a dozen times sometimes in one sitting (sometimes we tell her, sometimes we let it slide). I feel fear because Alzheimer's runs thick in my family's blood. Lately, in an effort to remember I have taken to writing things down more which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. Often I flip through the pages and can barely remember writing what I did, or am struck with the repetition of my thoughts, as entries months apart are strikingly alike. But sometimes, my words bring back memories or serve as reminders. I also know that I process through writing, so even if it helps me just a little bit to work through conversations and ideas, I think it is worth while.

I will try and remember to keep it up.

I would like this internet space to becomes a memory bank of both pictures and words, helping me to share these things with others and also (and especially) with my ever-forgetful future self.

Here you go self, here are a few more pictures from Jamaica:

I remember walking behind these girls while we were in town, having that strange travel-induced feeling of astonishment that this was just a regular day in these school girls lives, and here I was, a stranger with a camera on vacation taking pictures of them.

The flora. The fauna. The forests. Jamaica was green.

Odettes Beauty Salon.

The sand was so soft! It created little clouds that I was very fascinated with. A couple times I covered my entire body in this sand mixture and scrubbed my skin just because it seemed like a really good idea.

Mark sitting like a king in the gift shop.

We turned our chairs to face the ocean. I love his sleepless state, I can't help but take pictures of him in it.

That is my arm Mark is holding. Trust me.

C'est tout!