Achievements & Movements

Everything moves all the time for me, like a strobing river. In the back of my mind sit a thousand things I've done or said or thought, slowly shifting through and away, mutating into new buds of understanding and doing. I have little reminders everywhere of old things, the memories in my head of the things that have happened to an old me. Like that time when a worm urinated on me when I picked it up from the little plot of garden I shared with a small group of girls at middle school. Or that time where I poured every possible thought I had out onto scraps of not-as-well-organised-as-they-should-be paper to be graded on my thought processes for uni. Or the time that the best person in the world sat on my glasses and broke them with his big bum.

A collage of old notebook pages. I was practising drawing legs.

I have a note from my high school English teacher which references postmen and a poem called 'Vultures' and I have only the vaguest recollection of what those references mean. Not that they are important, but it's weird. So many things have happened. So many heartbeats and breaths. So many thoughts and decisions. And I don't care if I remember most of them.

My review process has picked out some of the best memories. My real achievements. Here are a collection of them (although some get to stay in my head):

1. A particular August moon, and stars, and rain, and grass stains, and shivering, and darkness.
2. The years long build up to tapping out thoughts and feelings here and creating little streams and watching them flow (and my endless love of river metaphors).
3. Writing pencil notes in a detective book I took from a Wetherspoons after learning a secret.
4. Making watercolours of webcam pictures in brown, pink, orange, and yellow (three years ago).
5. Remembering to forget.