I save everything.
Trent used to joke and call me the Librarian. Part of my professional work involves being an archivist, but I’ve also come to realize it’s a trauma response.
Information is power. In this world of revisionist history, it’s helpful to have a record of what was said/done/etc. (whether with a friend, client, or family member). Several times in my life it’s been necessary to dig into the archives when the truth is in question.
So you can imagine how devastated I was when my iPhone imploded yesterday. I haven’t backed up in two years. Sigh.
The genius at the Apple Store was very reassuring and kind.
“You’re in good shape!”
He wasn’t wrong. It’s been a wild two years:
- Ended friendships
- Hours and hours of dissertating
- The usual family bullshit
Part of me thinks the universe erased everything because it knows I have a hard time letting go. I fester…I linger. I wade in the melancholy.
I went to Chic-Fil-A to drown my sorrows. As I walked to Central Park to find a spot to eat, I passed a street singer in front of the Museum of Art and Design. He was singing The Best is Yet to Come.
I sipped my milkshake, ate my delicious homophobia and watched him do a decent Sinatra.
I think he’s right. Cheers to making new memories and leaving the past behind. Good, bad or otherwise.