The Things That Remain?

Oh well that's good, because when I find myself constantly checking your blog, there's nothing there :-P Only kidding, the whole point is that there's no pressure - that's the only reason I keep coming back to write.

On a more important note, did you ever notice all the little things you pick up without realizing it, and how long they last? I'm actually not talking rhetorically here - I'm actually talking about the pen mark on my finger that's still there from God knows when. I noticed it when I was about to leave the bio lab and leaning on the counter, looking at my fingers for whatever unreasonable reason. And I've got a little mark on the knuckle of my middle finger, and I still can't figure out how it got there. Then I forgot about it in a second and didn't see it again until four hours later (though it may as well have been 40) when I was in the shower and "Huh, that mark's still there?"

What else do we carry around on ourselves without ever really seeing? We forget about scars and bruises, even though they can last months or years. I have a cut on my arm from nowhere in particular, and there's a scar on my hand that's been there as long as I can remember and I don't remember why. Or like how I called my mom today to tell her I was about to start driving, and she recognized that I sounded tired and out of breath, which I didn't even realize I was. What about things like facial expressions, do they last unconsciously? I wonder what my facial expressions look like, since I'll never really have the chance to witness them genuinely - you can't just stand in front of a mirror and be surprised, or confused, or annoyed. I like knowing what signals I'm giving off, and usually try to subdue minor expressions so that I have more flexibility in terms of how I come across, but what am I really doing? It's funny that everyone knows but me.

I still have that mark on my finger, and now that I think about it, my fingernails seem better than they were yesterday (they got stained and weakened by my beloved green nail polish, ironically enough), and I feel physically comfortable for the first time in a while, since my lack of sleep and food have been wearing on me for the past three days.

And what determines what we do and don't remember? I have no idea where I got the cut on my arm, but take the kid who works next to me in chem lab, who burned himself with sulfuric acid on Monday and will definitely remember that story (that's something I like about chem, if you screw up there can be actual consequences. It's exciting in a weird way). Obviously there was noticeable pain involved in obtaining that mark, and he'll remember it. (What, RENT is going off Broadway???) But what keeps me from remembering where I got the scar on the back of my hand? Maybe it never hurt enough for me to notice when I got it, but how could I not notice feeling something that cuts my skin? How do we go around so often without seeing all the little things we pick up, the things that other people see before we do, the accumulated reminders of where we've been?