By Ben Fassett
Staff Writer
Do you remember what time you woke up?
Do you remember if you ate breakfast? Whether you bathed, if you put conditioner in your hair or just shampoo? Do you recall any of the conversations you had with friends, loved ones or family?
I asked a man, once, what he did that day. “Nothing,” he said, “just hung out and watched TV.” I asked him what he watched, and he could recite three hours worth of television to me. When I pressed him about what he actually did, however, he couldn’t tell me anything. He didn’t even know what he had eaten. It seemed as if he would have been better off in a coma.
How do you know if you've learned anything?
I blew smoke in a woman’s face a while back; more accurately, at the back of her head. I walked on as if nothing had happened. I gave her a cancerous gift. She yelled at my back. Maybe she talked to her friends about it. Hopefully, she stewed over that moment. It will give her something to remember about the day. If I’m really lucky, perhaps that means she’ll recall all of the things that happened around that one instance. It sounds cruel, but the fact is that she has a better chance of remembering it than if I were to smile at her.
Your life is made of tiny little experiences accumulated into what most of us call “good” or “bad” days. Studies have shown that negative experiences (what turn into “bad days”) stimulate more cellular activity in the orbitofrontal cortex and amygdala portions of the brain, which conjure up your emotions and provide a reference for more detail-oriented thought patterns.
It’s the science behind all of those bad things you know.
That means that it is important to pay attention to the terrible things happening all around you. You literally learn from your mistakes. You glean knowledge from other people’s downfalls. When someone pisses you off, you are far more likely to remember the offense than that person’s favourite color.
Remember that the people you care about have to design their own life experiences while being constantly bombarded by more information than we have ever experienced as a species. It is a swim against the current, and because of it many of them won’t remember the things that truly matter. You have to help them.
Shake them awake.
Tell them that they’re getting fat. Find a stranger and shake him by the shoulders, scream in his face and tell him that you really like his shoes. Absurdity works too. Do something grand for someone you love. Bury them in a truckload of flowers. Smear chocolate on your hands and cry about soiling yourself at the bus stop. The people around you won’t soon forget it. You won’t, either.
Try to remember what you’re dying for.
