I've said this several times about myself, but I somehow I seem to forget it, ignore it, pretend it's not there. I'm more fond of the idea of having forgotten since it relieves me from some guilt, although I'm certain it's the most inaccurate one of all the excuses for my negligence and the most detrimental at that much like when I "forget" to exfoliate my face.
I love ideas. I mean "love" in the full extent of the word. I really do. Ideas don't die, they change and adjust. The same idea can emerge from different sources and that same idea can simple pop out of existence when those thinking of it cease to exist or forget. But if it's written down, it's as if it never left. I'm simply enthralled by that aspect of it. That't the end of my love for ideas.
Now, what happens when a picture is taken? The do the images record the meaning correctly? What if the idea is lost within the the notation of it? Can it be understood? Is it understood completely? What about writing? Is an illegible post-it any different from a well-formed essay if it can't understood? Does the idea still exist? And what of our memories? Are they patchworks we made?
Many times I find Post-Its on my desk with strange markings I assume must be my idle handwriting. No matter how I turn or view them, sometimes I can't figure out what they are supposed to remind me of; what they are meant to keep for me.It tends to happen that I'll get frustrated and put them aside. Then a few minutes later I'll spot something out of the corner of my eye: a shoe, a book, some paint laying around or perhaps I'll take a sip of water and it all comes back to me. The idea was never truly gone.
And when ideas don't leave me, when they are never gone, things become even messier and an illegible note. In my last year of high school I obsessively worked on the idea of Ophelia's last reach out of the water. I couldn't let it go. My work on the sculpture went as far as doing work on it during all my classes. I was so terribly engrossed in it. But when it was compete, I was happy and had no hair to speak of. However my grades took a dip and that was that.
While my habits are problematic, they are not what concerns me. This morning I came to the realization I was infatuated with an ill-constructed perception. The idea was pieced together form events and occurrences that where rather pleasant, but so terribly incomplete. I lucky have a rather cynical nature that takes care of most of dreams and aspirations. The thing is that takes time and this was birthed in short span of time, not enough gestation to kill off the malformation.
The cancerous idea grew and took shape of something I held dear; past tense. And shit got out of hand. For a period of almost two months, I would fall victim to the crippling grip of the monstrosity at regular intervals. I even convinced myself that I was fine when was not more fine than the woman that was abducted by King Kong. You know, sans the beautiful hair and flawless complexion.
This time around there wasn't object around to remind me it was just an idea. I even had a Post-It with a date that was about it.The painting I had been working on made things worse until it's completion. And talking about it made only seemed to excise the part of it that was bothering me at the time. If only I had some airplanes flying around me attempting to shoot it down and a dashing hero to rescue me I would have still ended up where I am now, although a bit more interesting.
I love ideas and memories, and they are nothing more than that. The idea I constructed in about 4 months grew to change into something I had never been. I resent. I place a great deal of the blame on myself for various reasons and I rightful chuck the rest at that monstrosity's other contributor. The idea might be gone for now, but I don't have a single doubt it will come back in some shape or form. It'll never die. It'll just change.
A friend told me we learn from every thing that we go through, or maybe it was that I shouldn't read while walking on Broadway. Either way both are excellent pieces of advice I follow. Through this all I remembered what I always forget. I am human. Flawed in complexion and owner to head full of monstrosities and hair. I am hero tackling King Kong on his own right.
