I’m not blogging much here these days. I’ve spread myself thin in terms of what I have going on, and in terms of outlets. I’ve got the libcom blog (Blog 1578, Proud To Be 1578) for political stuff and I’m trying to keep it at the quality of decent first drafts. I’ve got the tumblr for link dumps. And then there’s this blog for when I’m just sort of thinking out loud. I haven’t been doing much of that in a minute I guess. Maybe I should more. I dunno. Anyway, I was thinking out loud in my head (umm, yeah… whatever) about my daughter and getting older and stuff.
At some times in my life I’ve thought “right now, this is some memorable moment! I’m making the stuff of my life!” Along similar lines I’ve sometimes thought about things I’ve done (I mean the cool stuff I’m proud of) and not done (I mean mostly the part about not making any appreciable amount of money) and I’ve been like “I had those experiences and learned those things, no one can take that away from me!” At this point I rarely get enough sleep so my memory is hit or miss sometimes, so memory as justification is less satisfying. I’ve learned things I’ve forgotten. But also, in terms of memorable experiences, I was thinking about this and about my daughter…
My daughter is young enough that there’s a good chance she won’t remember any of this part of her life when she’s much older. She’s old enough that she’s edging up into the time when she may soon have what she may some day think of as her first couple three memories (I sure hope she uses the term “couple three”), as in, the stuff she thinks of as her first memory. I love my daughter a great deal and she’s a huge priority in my life and I enjoy spending time with her. It’s weird then to think that she may not remember any of this stuff. I mean, it’s cool to think that I’m going to know her until I die (I mean, the dying part’s not cool, but the part about how I will be her parent for the rest of my life, that’s cool and is a scale of time that’s so much more huge than anything else I usually think about). She’s going to change (she’s already changed a lot and sometimes I feel wistful about that, and I resent the fuck out of all the hours I’ve had to work and some of the other garbage that’s gotten in the way of spending more time with her) and she’ll be a different person as she get older… will be multiple different people, in a sense… and all of that’s fine. It’s normal, it’s exciting really because it means I get to repeatedly get to know her over the course of her life, but the memory thing… it’s weird and makes me feel a bit sad to think about her not remembering these times in her life that mean so much to me, the way that this time will recede in importance in her life as she gets older. It’s normal and all of course, and it’s really humbling in a way that I can’t really put into words right now.
This isn’t really related but as long as I’m writing… an extended metaphor: I listened to a radio program today about Isaac Newton. The show talked about how if you shoot a bullet from a gun and drop an identical bullet at the same time the two bullets will hit the ground at the same time (provided each bullet is initially at the same height and provided the gun is held parallel to the ground), because each will be falling toward the earth at the same speed. It then went on to point out that the earth is curved, not flat, so that theoretically speaking the bullet fired from the gun fast enough and at the correct angle that it could fall toward the earth to the same degree as the curvature of the earth. Which is to say, the bullet could fall toward the earth to the same degree that the earth was ‘falling’ away (that is, curving away) from the bullet. The bullet would fall forever. Which is to say, it would begin to orbit the earth. Maybe having a kid is kind of like that in the long term, at the scale of life-time parenting, a process of falling toward and curving away over time, in an orbit.