I Am The Walrus

Do you know about the unreliable narrator? 

IT MESSED WITH MY MIND when I first learned about it; in my eyes, it was outright wrong for a writer to be intentionally deceitful. 

I naively expected writers to be the most honest reporters ever.

So when I started a book myself I expected to remember, verbatim, every word, action, detail, non-verbal, and otherwise. As you might expect, it created quite an unrealistic expectation and inner conflict for me.

Memory is tricky! For one, I honestly couldn’t remember those things. And two, I was writing about who I was in the past (it’s a memoir), and reconciling who I am with who I was is tricky.

Side note: I learned from a most awesome Nova special, “Memory Hackers” (holy shit! I can’t believe it’s free on PBS. Go, now!) how our memory is constantly changing and unreliable anyway.

Needless to say, I’m accepting of myself as an unreliable narrator today. Because I have to be; otherwise, I’d probably hide away somewhere in a bunker underground in South America and count the days and years on the wall with a stick of chalk.

Also, I’m not too fond that it’s almost April. Don’t get me wrong; I LOVE spring. It’s just time is moving too fast; going from one month to the next is like frogs lily hopping during mating season.

Anywho, night-night for now. See you manana (c’mon, where the squiggly line for over the “n”?!)


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