Amnesiac Meme
Dec. 27th, 2003 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tylik(vaguely and inaccurately stolen from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mockly)
So apparently there's this meme floating around about a list of nineteen things that you'd give yourself if you knew you were going to suffer amnesia so that you could reconstruct yourself. Except she put down nine things. And it turns out they were supposed to fit into a manilla envelope, and this has to do with some movie I haven't seen.
Anyhow, I like the idea, but not the manilla envelope. Ah, heck, I probably misunderstand the idea, but I like the thought a collection of objects with which to rebuild oneself (though I'm kind of looking at the things of historical importance that will trigger buried memories, rather than rebuilding oneself from scratch.)
1 My PDA. Okay, that's kind of cheating, but currently it has my personal journal (which is pretty different from this journal) my schedule, mp3s of Bach's musical offering, and a vaguely representative subset of my published articles. Oh, and the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings -- which couldn't hurt, and would have to make me feel better. And I love my PDA. Really, I do.
2 My harp. Okay, it's kind of big, but darn it, there's a lot of my life in my harp, and I can't imagine much more comforting than having the harp to play with if I were amnesiac. Alternately, my bronze torque would fill a reasonably similar niche, for something much smaller.
3 My jian. Complete with cracked and repaired scabbard, and the very faint scent of cloves. Ideally, the tassle should be back on it. Also kind of big, though.
4 One battered paperback copy of Robert Heinlein's Friday. (Sad, eh? But it really meant a lot to me at one point in my life, and was one of the earliest intelligible things I read about sex.) Le Guin's "A Fisherman of the Inland Sea" might not be a bad alternate.
5 A photograph of the view through the large half circular windows of my old house on Capitol Hill. Ideally it should be summer, and the Cascades clearly visable.
6 Copies of some of the proofs I used to play around with on the bus. I'm tempted to say "half written" -- 'cause I think that would drive me mad until I'd finished them, and working though the logic is kind of the point. Should include commentary in my part chinese + random symbols shorthand.
7 A small bunch of dried southernwood and/or a vial of marmalade oil.
8 A lock of Craig's hair.
9 The picture of Scott, Nels and I in our Halloween costurms in a hammock when we were all about five.
Huh. Definately stopping at nine. Makes me realize how many things that would have been ideal for that sort of thing don't exist anymore.
mockly)So apparently there's this meme floating around about a list of nineteen things that you'd give yourself if you knew you were going to suffer amnesia so that you could reconstruct yourself. Except she put down nine things. And it turns out they were supposed to fit into a manilla envelope, and this has to do with some movie I haven't seen.
Anyhow, I like the idea, but not the manilla envelope. Ah, heck, I probably misunderstand the idea, but I like the thought a collection of objects with which to rebuild oneself (though I'm kind of looking at the things of historical importance that will trigger buried memories, rather than rebuilding oneself from scratch.)
1 My PDA. Okay, that's kind of cheating, but currently it has my personal journal (which is pretty different from this journal) my schedule, mp3s of Bach's musical offering, and a vaguely representative subset of my published articles. Oh, and the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings -- which couldn't hurt, and would have to make me feel better. And I love my PDA. Really, I do.
2 My harp. Okay, it's kind of big, but darn it, there's a lot of my life in my harp, and I can't imagine much more comforting than having the harp to play with if I were amnesiac. Alternately, my bronze torque would fill a reasonably similar niche, for something much smaller.
3 My jian. Complete with cracked and repaired scabbard, and the very faint scent of cloves. Ideally, the tassle should be back on it. Also kind of big, though.
4 One battered paperback copy of Robert Heinlein's Friday. (Sad, eh? But it really meant a lot to me at one point in my life, and was one of the earliest intelligible things I read about sex.) Le Guin's "A Fisherman of the Inland Sea" might not be a bad alternate.
5 A photograph of the view through the large half circular windows of my old house on Capitol Hill. Ideally it should be summer, and the Cascades clearly visable.
6 Copies of some of the proofs I used to play around with on the bus. I'm tempted to say "half written" -- 'cause I think that would drive me mad until I'd finished them, and working though the logic is kind of the point. Should include commentary in my part chinese + random symbols shorthand.
7 A small bunch of dried southernwood and/or a vial of marmalade oil.
8 A lock of Craig's hair.
9 The picture of Scott, Nels and I in our Halloween costurms in a hammock when we were all about five.
Huh. Definately stopping at nine. Makes me realize how many things that would have been ideal for that sort of thing don't exist anymore.
