Sub Etha Transmissions

Photographs, awards, plaques, yearbooks. Records of who we were. Markers of where we went. As the years go by I am faced with the growing certainty that much of my life right now is almost irrevocably severed from my past, as if there is a brick wall separating that part of my life and all its attendant issues with the present Me. Sometime a couple of years back I changed, and because of that there were a lot of things that changed as well. While I'm not denying my past happened (denial never really works), hearing about other people's friendships and reunions make me wonder just how much I gave up in my journey to be me. Perhaps it's time to give up this whole "individuality" gig and conform. It would be so easy, and I probably wouldn't have a worry in the world (I'd also very probably sell off all my belongings and stay on campus as a dorm warden, but that's not the story for today).

Talking to a friend just now I bounced the idea that sometime in the future I will be making a road movie about lost connections, trying to pick up where I left off with the people I knew and rekindle all those friendships I'd somehow lost while most probably finding out that there's nothing left to find. In the movie, up till the point where (and if) I finally find myself, any images of me will be blurred, as if I will only be totally defined by what people remember of me.

Sometimes that's all we have to go on.

Reading the Readers' Digest growing up, I remember reading all those articles on "My Dad/Husband/Brother/Best Friend" and how in some way or another the writers' lives were unspeakably changed by the presence of these people. I've always wondered how I'd be remembered, if at all. Sitting in transition between the debris of the past and the uncertain constructs of the future, when the time comes will I have made any kind of an impact anywhere, on anyone's lives?

The answer could be (and most probably is) NO. Since I don't make it a habit to go to any reunions, not to mention weddings (ain't my fault if Kelantan seems the destination of choice) I'm thinking it's a safe bet that after awhile, the people I used to know will just skip my name when it comes to invites. A lot of it has to do with that sense that even after all these years we're still stuck in a time-warp. All of a sudden we're 16/17/21 again only this time, I'm so out of the loop that all the others are looking at me funny. So I've changed, and not many people are pleased with it (this in itself is another story).

Which brings us to the final scene in the movie: I come into focus, and as I drive away there is a photograph that floats down to the dusty road. It is a hot day, and this photograph has been with me since the start of the trip. For the entirety of the time the viewer is sure that my face is blurry in these images, only they're not really.

The only person who's blurry, is the one in my head.

"I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes. That way I wouldn't have to have any goddamn stupid useless conversations with anybody. If anybody wanted to tell me something they'd have to write it on a piece of paper and shove it over to me. They'd get bored as hell doing that after a while, and then I'd be through with having conversations for the rest of my life."

JD Salinger, The Catcher In The Rye