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Old 04-24-2009, 09:06 PM View Post #1 (Link) a first draft of an essay
Augenstern74 (Offline)
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What we don’t remember…

I don’t remember my first day at school, which is strange, because I can remember incidents that happened much, much earlier. Hence, when I want to know something about this time of my life, I have to look at photographs.

There is this picture in my mother’s dining room. It shows a six years old girl (should that really be me?) with her surprise-bag in both hands. I hold it proudly and carefully like a treasure. It is moss-green, and the picture of a porcelain doll is printed on it. I turn the picture to the front side, so everybody can see it. I wonder now whether I was curious about its content then, while I am looking at the girl’s smiling lips.
The schoolbag is shouldered. It is blue, and now I remember it vividly. ‘WUM’ was written on it. I was so disappointed with it. I would have liked a SCOUT bag better. Why? Well, everyone had one of those. And I wanted to be like everybody, and I wanted to have what everybody had.
You see me smiling on the picture, I told that before, and you realize that there is a missing tooth. My dark brown eyes look open and excited into the camera. They are wide open in order to let in more light. They look like I tried to suck in every detail of the moment, so it stays on. My irises like printing presses of the present. But, where did I put the copy now? Is it buried under things that are more significant? But wait, we are not at the end of all these lost and found memories!
I intensely look at the picture trying to find more details. The hair is of a dark brown with a shimmer of red like a chestnut. My haircut is typical for the seventies and eighties of the 20th century. It is called ‘round-cut’, and I remember that my mother had cut it the day before. She had placed a cooking pot on my head and cut around its brim. I almost hear the noise the scissors made while they cut away the slight curls that had formed at the end of my hair.
My eyes wander down my body and I discover the black skirt I wore on that day. It had a red braid at its bottom and I suddenly remember the day my mother sewed it. More memories pop into my head now. The skirt, black, red, and pain. These things are inseparably connected. Do I really want to remember? No, this must wait for future times.

What did I feel when my mother and I drove to school together? Did we drive at all? Did we take the car or the bikes? Did we walk?
I am sure that we took the car because of the huge surprise bag I was carrying. But everything is gloomy, and I even cannot remember what car we had at this time. Well, unimportant stuff, isn’t it?

What was the first smell inside the schoolhouse? I am sure that I felt extremely excited. But I cannot remember. As we entered the building I must have realized the large rubber plant in the entrance hall. I know that it was there during the four years I spent in elementary school. But trying to remember it now, it is all black.
There is only the dark notion of many people inside a very small classroom. The room is in the basement of the schoolhouse. I know this, but I cannot remember going down the stairs or entering the room.
Are there people in the room; do they talk? There is an impression of adults – lots of them – and me feeling small.
Are there children? Was it a happy day?
I can’t remember how my class-teacher looked like. And I can’t remember the feelings I had during these first hours at school. Everything drowned in the blackness of unconsciousness.

Why do we forget things? Do we forget the unimportant stuff?
Or, are the so called unimportant facts the things that matter most? – Maybe they are dangerous to remember. Memories can hurt a lot. I have not forgotten about this.
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Old 05-30-2009, 04:20 AM View Post #2 (Link)
aj.e (Offline)
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I think you are confused my friend. This section is for scripts. Mosey along now, move this thread of yours.

"A vasectomy is the key to success."
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Old 06-03-2009, 04:50 PM View Post #3 (Link)
nagarjuna (Offline)
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Is there an admin who can move this?

"Let us not mince words. The marvelous is always beautiful. Anything marvelous is beautiful. In fact, only the marvelous is beautiful."
-Andre Breton

"If God, as they say, is homophobic, I wouldn’t worship that God."
-Archbishop Desmond Tutu

"eyes open, see. eyes half open, see better. eyes shut, see best."
-Morris Cox, "Tenet for an Artist"
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Old 08-27-2015, 09:48 PM View Post #4 (Link) uh...
kidzrulz101 (Offline)
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:? cool
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