I’d like to do an erasure of my life
I should probably clarify what I mean. This is not meant to be any type of reference to suicide, although after titling this post, I contorted my face in recognition that it might appear that way.
We’ve discussed how erasures can take away unnecessary words, how they can boil things down to their essence. This can be freeing–I believe someone made a comment about how it showed them they didn’t need so many words to get the same image or point across. Although I would say that erasure can serve a wider range of purposes, this distillation is certainly a legitimate one.
Last week, we also responded to the writing prompt Christine gave us, to describe what each of our memoirs would look like. I briefly thought about the possibility of doing an erasure of all of my journals and personal writings; rather, I thought about what that would look like, or how I would go about doing it. I never really seriously considered it an option, as I didn’t want to take anything away from all I have experienced and written about.
Now, I am reconsidering that. I think it could be a really freeing experience. Because really, why should I let the details of a middle school feud continue to clutter my memory? Why should I retain the wholly awful writing of Lydia circa 2007 remain untouched, when a future me could mine the rare gems and transform them into a beautiful collection? I am still unsure whether this project would be a positive or negative experience, but I do hope I eventually do something with my scattered and neglected journals/diaries/records. Tomorrow, I may change my mind, and think that these things are better left untouched.
I’d also really like to erase all the unimportant tasks and responsibilities from my schedule, and leave the beautiful things, but that’s a fantasy more difficult to execute.