I've been thinking about the past, or, more specifically and on a meta level, what the past actually is. The past is our version of events that transpired, seen through our current lens. It's not fixed.
When I think back to childhood, this is the most obvious. Of the tens of thousands of hours that compromised my childhood, only a handful of them stand out in memory. When I'm feeling fondly nostalgic, I'll remember the ones that evoke feelings of nostalgia. When I'm feeling ecstatic, I'll remember the ones that are exciting. When I'm upset, I'll remember sad moments. And so on.
In fact, we deliberately twist and mould our versions of the truth sometimes. When we tell stories that we want others to remember, we tell one version of what happened. If we tell a story enough times, we end up believing that version.
If it's true, I want to leave a record of where I actually am in any moment in life. That way, I can always look back on the record and see where I was. This might not give me the objective picture of past events, but it does tell me what my subjective experience of a moment was in great accuracy.
And, in fact, I have been doing this for much of my life. Keeping journals, taking photographs. I suppose that's why I'm writing these logs too.
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