Rewriting History | Identity


I spent most of the day adding pictures and links, and editing, deleting and rewriting many of my blog entries. Some people think you shouldn't rewrite your history; that once you make an entry you should keep it as is: a record of where you're at in a given moment. But leaving it untouched may be even more artificial than the process of rewriting it.

I rarely look back at my entries, but I decided to review what I'd written because I knew that someone, whose writing and character I admire, was going to start reading it from the beginning. I wasn't surprised to discover that several were created under inebriated conditions, so they needed to be tossed into hyperspace, or at the very least rewritten.

I didn't change facts. Deleted entries contained little of historical importance. Often my writing was lazy because I didn't take the time to rework it until it communicated my original messages; or it was unnecessarily self-indulgent, narcissistic or just plain rude. Other times hyperlinked web sites and pictures were out of order so needed replacing.

I endeavoured to keep much of the raw data and personality of the original entries - I haven't housecleaned to the extent that I idealized my personality or perfected my writing style. I still need to tidy up the empty bottles of vodka and pizza boxes strewn across my home on the net.

Research reveals that rewriting our history is a common occurrence that relates to the operations of our brain. "Memory's errors are as fascinating as they are important. They can be divided into seven fundamental transgressions or 'sins,' which I call transience, absentmindedness, blocking, misattribution, suggestibility, bias and persistence. Just like the ancient seven deadly sins -- the memory sins occur frequently in everyday life and can have serious consequences for all of us."

Our constructions, subversions and reconstructions of identity are an ongoing and daily process, to which no one is precluded. History and identity behave more like verbs than nouns, and are contingent on subjective - not objective - conditions. While rereading the entries, I discovered events that I had forgotten altogether, and in another case I had joined together three separate incidences into one event in my memory. My sense of continuity was disjointed and my timeline twisted.

History and identity are remarkably fluid, especially in the age of the internet. One's body is merely virtual: digitized into electromagnetic pulses that are easily assimilated by others. Words are a particularly flimsy and transparent medium, easily manipulated and misinterpreted by both parties according to conscious and unconscious agendas.

Where does reality end and fiction begin? Are we not who we believe we are in any given moment, or is there an intrinsic, essential and unchanging aspect to our nature?

It's a miracle that we ever know ourselves, or understand the other. Perhaps it's only fleeting: as soon as we grasp it, it slips away. Knowing ourselves and others is an ongoing effort; one that's constantly being pursued by bloggers across our lonely planet.

Here's a couple newly reconstructed entries from the past:


Celine Dion & Quebec Canada - The English-Speaking Canadian's Perspective

I explain why English-Speaking Canadians do not like Celine Dion or the Quebecois. Our identity is based on self-flagellation and on not being American. Included is a video link to our national anthem: Molson Canadian's "I am Canadian." You'll see why this beer commercial brings on such a heart-felt, tear-jerking patriotism to our sadly lacking national identity.










Shaved

Part 1 of a supernatural thriller, describing the events that lead up to meeting Les, my second relationship partner. I've referred to some of the spooky, incorporeal situations we experienced together in other writings about our relationship (see Ghost and Leaving), but I have yet to tell them all. The details are so nearly unbelievable - hauntings, possessions, impossible synchronicities - that I haven't gotten the nerve finish the story. This section explains how I "just happened" to shave my head the day before meeting Les, making me look nearly identical to his ex-partner of 20 years who had died recently.