November 07's issue of National Geographic carried a cover story on memories, titled 'Memories -- Why We Remember, Why We Forget'. The writer, Joshua Foer, wrote about a man called EP who contracted a virus that gnawed away part of his brain and erased his memory. Since 1960, he has not been able to form new memories or remember old memories. It is saddening to read that his memory problem is something he discovers anew every moment.
What made my heart sink was this part out of which Foer wrote in his twenty-two page story:
Ever since his sickness, space for EP has existed only as far as he can see it. His social universe is only as large as the people in the room. He lives under a narrow spotlight, surrounded by darkness.
On a typical morning, EP wakes up, has breakfast, and returns to bed to listen to the radio. but back in bed, it's not always clear whether he's just had breakfast or just woken up. Often he'll have breakfast again, and return to bed to listen to some more radio. Some mornings, he'll have breakfast a third time. He watches TV, which can be very exciting from second to second, though shows with a clear beginning, middle, and end can pose a problem. He prefers the History Channel, or anything about World War II. He takes walks around the neighborhood, usually several times before lunch, and sometimes for as long as three-quarters of an hour. He sits in the yard. He reads the newspaper, which one can only imagine must feel like stepping out of a time machine. Bush who? Iraq what? Computers when? By the time EP gets to the end of a headline, he's usually forgotten how it began. Most of the time, after reading the weather, he just doodles on the paper, drawing mustaches on the photographs or tracing his spoon. When he sees home prices in the real estate section, he invariably announces his shock.
Without a memory, EP has fallen completely out of time. He has no stream of consciousness, just droplets that immediately evaporate. If you were to take the watch off his wrist -- or, more cruelly, change the time -- he'd be completely lost. Trapped in this limbo of an eternal present, between a past he can't remember and a future he can't contemplate, he lives a sedentary life, completely free from worry. "He's happy all the time. Very happy. I guess it's because he doesn't have any stress in his life," says his daughter, Carol, who lives nearby.
"How old are you now?" Squire asks him.
"Let's see, 59 or 60. You got me. My memory is not that perfect. It's pretty good, but sometimes people ask me questions that I just don't get. I'm sure you have that sometimes."
"Sure, I do," says Squire, kindly, even though EP is almost a quarter of a century off.
EP's life consists of a past forgotten, and a future unthought of. I sincerely wish for him to get well. I wonder if I am like him sometimes, forgetting about the good things that have happened and refusing to work towards my future because I am stuck in my present. The article made me realize how memories -- even bad memories -- can be a blessing because they exist for us to reminiscence and draw lessons from.
***
I was relieved at not choosing cheese instant noodles over a simple dinner with my extended family at the coffeeshop nearby. So much for fickle emotions and a fleeting bout of unsociability that almost made me stay home to 'do my own stuff' -- listen to music, read, nap, jog. Grandma won a cash prize of three grand in a 4D draw (legalized gambling contest from Singapore Pools. Click
here
to read how it is played.) and wanted to treat us to a meal. I felt better fifteen minutes before the meeting time, got ready, and together with my brother who just returned from exercising, joined twelve other family members.
We ordered fish head curry, Thai-style fried chicken slices drizzled with mango sauce, tofu slices with egg and vegetables on a sizzling hot plate, pork slices in tomato sauce, braised sea cucumber and fish maw slices, stir-fried vegetables, fried dough fritter with fishcake and mayonnaise, and barbequed chicken wings. There was so much food going around and we ended up feeling really bloated. After dinner, we strolled though some small scale pasar malam (Malay for 'night market') stalls and bought snacks before heading to Grandma's place for some wine to go with them while watching the telly. I can permanently say 'goodbye' to my 20-session slimming program which costs over two grand.
***
I will be starting a new job Monday, working on advertising and promotions for a shopping center. The job scope entails excitement, excitement and more excitement, because everything that I will be tasked to do will be fruitful and will see results. No more unattainable goals and unforseeable future. Things will run on schedule, because my new company works the calendar properly. No more bets with (ex-)colleagues on when the previous month's paycheck will be released. No more shaky start-up environments. Thank God for the stability. I don't care if I sound vindictive. I just needed to get this off my chest re: ex-company.