Sep. 24th, 2005

shadowkat: (Default)
I was going to keep this private, but after reading some of the responses to a public posting I made, I want to share it.

Rahael, I wanted to thank you for showing me something this weekend. Last night I wrote a post hunting an answer and you showed that answer to me this morning. My question was a simple one - what would happen if I were to delete my livejournal, would anyone notice? You answered my question with a simple but effective demonstration - simply by writing what I found to be a lovely response then promptly deleting it. When I came to lj this morning hoping to respond to you, I was astonished to see your post was gone. Wait! Wait! I thought, why is it gone? Was it my imagination? Why did she delete it? That's when it slowly hit me...exactly what you did, whether it was intentional or not.

You are right of course, our words and our actions are not written on the wind, they rather sink inside the reader as opposed to being easily brushed away. They are in effect written in water and water, does sink into cloth, into skin, it is absorbed, it's not like wind. We remember and are influenced by the oddest things. We aren't computers where data can be extracted easily with the flip of a button or uninstalled or cleaned. Or a chalkboard where letters can be erased. Or a screen where words can be deleted. A handshake, a touch, a word, a phrase, a comment, can touch someone and remain imprinted years after the event. It will also influence other things about that person - actions, responses, views. They are changed. Just like my Teddy Bear was changed the moment I touched it. And I'd forgotten or somehow overlooked that.

There's an odd contradiction going on - we worry about not being remembered, that our words are written on water, easily forgotten, forgetting that water is absorbed not something that we can brush off. We fear that we'll leave nothing behind, nothing substantial at any rate - such as a child or a published novel that will never go out of print, or a loved one pining for us, yet by the same token and in contradictory fashion, we worry our words will be remembered, will sink in, and we want to erase them from other's memories as well as our own. (I wish for instance that so and so never saw that horrible first novel I wrote or that book never got into print or that movie wasn't made, how many actors regret their first roles, roles they think are in such bargain basement films, stuck on studio shelves, that will never make the light of day? I read an interview recently with Ben Kingsely commenting on the movie The Sound of Thunder - a real stinker that he'd made over 5 years ago, it sat unnoticed on studio shelves, he'd literally forgotten about it - having made so many films in between. Then up it pops again, being widely distributed. And you can feel him cringing.) There are so many posts I've deleted or wish I had never posted, yet did. Posts I've been tempted to go back and delete or posts that I have, only to receive a response to them way after the fact, thinking wait, wait, how did that happen, I deleted it? What we can't know or even control is how someone else will reacte to what we write or the effect our words and actions have, no matter how small they may seem to us, on someone else. Deleting them after the fact does not erase or lessen their impact. If you decide to delete a post or journal online, you can't delete it from the memories of all that saw it. You can't erase what they saw. Living in my head, I forget that if I can remember things about others, why can't they remember things about me? I remember ages ago a favorite teacher chiding me when I was astonished she still remembered me, but you had so many students, I said. Yes, she answered, but you've had so many teachers, if you can remember me fondly, why do you assume I don't remember you?

You demonstrated this fact to me today. If anything you showed how deleting something may actually emphasize it's impact as opposed to erase it on those who've seen it.

You are right, words like memories are not written on the wind, they can't be blown away like dust at a funeral.
They rather sink in. They are absorbed like water. They are written on water.

Thank you for helping me see it. And making me realize that I must be careful how and what I write, what I send, for I know not how or what the effect may be.
shadowkat: (Default)
Allergies have me congested and missing benadryle. I've closed up the apt and am trying to use the air purfier, I think I finally figured it out.

Long week. Glad it's over. Today or rather tonight, I celebrate Wales birthday, which arrives tomorrow. The second of many fall birthdays. At this rate, I'll be broke when Xmas rolls around.

Watched numerous new tv shows and returning shows this week.

Here's my tv show review ramble:

Nip/Tuck )

Lost )

Kitchen Confidential )

Earl )

Everybody Hates Chris )

Smallville )

Threshold )

BSG )


Still loving Dead Like Me. On Season 2 now, just received disks 2 and 3 in the mail.


PS: Very happy Rita has not hit Houston like everyone thought. And that areustha is safe. Whew. Checked that out first thing this morning as well.

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