Ohhhh, yesteryear. It seems like such a fuzzy, misty memory. So fuzzy, in fact, that I can't remember the name of the elementary school I attended in 3rd and 4th grade. Yes. Most people fondly remember their 3rd grade teacher and school and the positive impact the year had on their life. I, however, cannot remember either of my teachers' names or the name of my school.
Maybe this was during the time period when Big Brother erased my memory and brainwashed me into this society? Or maybe I just didn't care enough about school to remember? I do, however, distinctly remember the boy I had a crush on. You can see I've always had my priorities straight!
Wait, now that I'm hashing it out over the blog, My 4th grade teacher is coming back. Mrs. Riggs? She was an old lady and I did enjoy her class. (She let me sit by Daniel. I'll let you guess who that might be)
Some interesting questions surface:
Am I remembering correctly?
Just because I remember it that way, is it reality?
What is reality?
What makes the past me the same person as the present me? My memories? Because they are obviously failing. Other people's memories? Because I can't even trust my own memory, let alone someone else's.
Do I really exist?
Does this blog exist?
What is the Internet?
Where do they keep all the voice mails?
Where is Matt Miller when I need him? He probably has an answer to this.
Conclusion: Pictures. Take lots of pictures. Because maybe you can trust those.
Until next time! Maybe. If I exist.
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