Still a Work in Progress

Blogs should be about positive things—those good happenings in your life. I am not one to imitate others so I write what I want as long as it reveals something about me as a unique person. I do like to tell stories, however, and appreciate others when they entertain me with their human tales. I want to emphasize foibles here, not just ordinary accounts of mundane life. I like to hear about what amuses you, what scares you, what makes you cringe, and finally what makes you tick. It helps me to learn more about myself. I know that we all have a lot in common.

Take memories for example. We are loaded to the gills with good and bad ones and they pop up during waking hours as well as in dreams. I don’t know why these memories are triggered at particular times, but recently a movie somehow did the job. It reminded me of something that happened in college while I was at a party. I was young with much experience and I raided the beer fridge to Crack a Cold One one time to many. I was smashed and falling on my face drunk. I didn’t know it so I was not yet mortified. I think most of the other kids at the party were in the same boat. You remember well after the fact when someone mentions how you behaved in strange ways. You probably confessed something personal and embarrassing. When I came to my senses, I realized that I had a long way to go to grow up and gain control. Such silly moments are common in college as we learn to make our way. No one is exempt from immaturity at least for some period of time. The memory reminded me of how far I have come.

It should be a fun memory of good laughs and merriment among friends. We were new at the socializing game. We needed a little beer for positive re-enforcement; it was just that we didn’t know when to quit. We kept guzzling it down making toasts to our happy days. This might have been the very first time I had gotten drunk, especially in public. I remember an empty room with a bed with me sprawled face down. I only came up for air a few hours later when I found a ride back to the dorm. I am not even sure what happened to my car.

At first, I couldn’t laugh about this memory because it seemed painful to me. It probably wasn’t at the time. Now I see it as a phase of much-needed personal growth that I can talk about in public. No need to be so sensitive about the past. How do you deal with such memories? Are they a road to personal assessment or something to suppress? If we pay attention to dreams and recollections, we can do a bit of self-psychoanalysis. What do you think?