Tuesday, February 10, 2009

My Outboard inner-child

I'm fascinated by myself.

I have no qualms about admitting this, and if you just scoffed at that admission, perhaps you need to take a second to reflect on how ego-centric you are. If you've ever taken a personality test, shown interest in what people are saying behind your back, or had slightest spark of intrigue in what a horoscope or palm-reading has to say about your personality, I'm pretty sure you're interested in yourself too.

One of the best things about having a blog is how it serves as a wayback machine, reminding me of things I've done and people I've met, and generally rendering the memories that have been long lost to the ether in satisfyingly high clarity.

This blog was founded to chronicle my exploits from the States, and I often find that when I read my entries, I'm envious of the past-Sully who is still excited from his adventures (not to mention fretful that I don't write 'em like I used to). However pathetic a reflection it is of my memory, I do enjoy that I can read what I wrote just two years ago and find more freshness than familiarity, hopefully experiencing it how outsiders did back in the day.

As valuable as this blog is for offering the recent history of Sully, it's not always an entirely 'pure' summation of what transpired, with fussy details being glossed over and characters being left out for the sake of getting on with the story.

Fortunately for me then, that I've had the same Yahoo! mail account for at least ten years! The oldest item is dated the 26th of March, 1999 - when a 12 year old Sully sent a typo-riddled happy birthday message to his aunt.

The archives span from my first girlfriend to my current, along the way featuring tales of stupidly broken bones, sordid tales of teenage debauchery (to which I always seemed a spectator), and the entire back catalogue of e-mails charting the gradual shift from long-distance friend to long-distance girlfriend. It's fascinating stuff!

Fascinating stuff that I don’t intend on sharing until tomorrow, however. Grotesque as it may seem that I’m trying to bait you into returning with the promise of further worship at the altar of my narcissism, it is entirely in the interest of keeping this entry from getting too bloated, and not the notion that my self-interest is remotely worthwhile to anyone else!


Okay, okay - I can't very well just tease you like this, so I’ll share a little. This is from Monday, 18/10/1999 making me 13 and a half, and meaning I should have known a lot better than this:

Guess this solves the mystery of why I was left out of the teenage debauchery...

Embarrassing stuff!

In the meantime, I have to ask – how far back does your written record go? What links do you have with the psyche of your inner 12 year old, if any?

The title to this entry is a reference to a great article in Wired from September '07: Your Outboard Brain Knows All

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