I think I’m going to do something a bit different, for the moment at least. Maybe try to build an idea of what is going through my head, or has, with this blog. I felt the best place to start with was the name.
Memories of Nowhere. I’m going to be honest: this wasn’t my first choice. I believe the first choice was like ‘Eye of the Storm’ or something. I settled on Memories of Nowhere because it felt… right. It felt like me in a weird way.
I’ve traveled more than the average person. Before I can even remember I went to New Mexico as a child with my family and my only memory of it is that I lost a toy there. Some time later we would take a road trip to Louisiana to see extended family just mere months before Hurricane Katrina would hit. At a darker point in my life I traveled to Ohio where I really had the idea of death cemented in me, seeing my grandma for the first and last time strapped to a bed in the final moments of Alzheimer’s disease and upon returning learned that the family dog I considered my best friend died. More recently I went to Iceland which was a life changing experience.
Every single place I’ve been to has this unusual quality. It feels the same yet at the same time it doesn’t. You’ve just landed on foreign soil but at the same time you feel strangely like you’ve been there. You could easily chock this up to what I’ll call anti-euphoria. You had this idea you were going to a foreign country, a place completely different from where you live, but you see things that you recognize. Stores, labels, merchandise. You go to a place seeking out the unusual, the unknown, the different but then you get surprised when you realize that not only do you live nearby a 7-11, or what have you, there’s one in Japan but inside the food items are completely different and you’ll never see the same stuff you saw in America in Japan or Russia or Australia or Europe.
There are large gaps in my memory, more so than should be normal. I worried about this as a kid, wondering what I had forgotten. Seeing photos of people who had long since passed, my parents legitimately shocked I recognized no one in the picture despite that I was, often times, in the picture itself. Over time I came to accept this for various reasons. I’ll never remember everything and that’s okay.
Potentially as a side effect my mind is really creative and wanders a lot. Even if I’ve never been to a place if I see photos of it I can construct a false memory of me walking down the streets, meeting the locals and having a chance encounter with a gorgeous stranger who I most likely will never see ever again in my entire life. Its amazing how large yet small this world is. You could legitimately explore the entirety of it within a year thanks to the technological advances. Even more than that you could find photos or even programs that allow you to roam the streets of a place halfway across the globe, surrounded by a vast ocean and various landmasses.
When I get to go on a trip I like to read up a bit on the place so I always get this idea in my head of what its going to be like. Once I get there I’ve already been there, in a sense. I walked these streets, met the people and breathed in the air. Going there is simply me cementing those memories or making secondary ones as if I’ve already been on the trip. Even when I don’t go to places I imagine being with someone, sharing my life with them, the potential future I can have where I just let my mind wander. And I carry along with me these memories of places I’ve never actually been, of people I’ve never been with, all these things I both have and haven’t done. My memories of everywhere and everything… and yet at the same time these are nothing, my memories of nowhere.