October 3rd, 2002

alone

(no subject)

I'm rereading one of my favorite books of all time: Tigana. It's been a couple of years since I read it, and I'd forgotten how intensely bittersweet it is. Actually, that's one of the things I adore about this author's writing, but I'm in a place right now where it's really striking a chord for me.

It's funny because it's not as though I could call my life bittersweet, at all. My life is, thus far, pretty much like a merengue. But I think my outlook on life anticipates the bitter with the sweet, and the more full my life is with wonderous things, the more space there is for both bitter and sweet. It's the roundness of life, nadir and summit, all together, balancing one another, even if only in theory (for now).

A central theme of Tigana is memory, and it makes me think how much memory is to life. Frequently, the memory of a thing is more real than the experience of it. Would I rather have a fabulous vacation or remember one? Without remembering it, it's as good as not having it, somehow. Memory is certainly the longer lasting of the two. Isn't it memory that makes us who we are?

Back to philosophy 101 with me, apparently!