I've seen your face a thousand times. Every day we've been apart.
Yes, you are correct - "Mama I'm comin' home", Ozzy Osbourne.
I've been all in to "power ballads" lately. It started off with Skid Row and their amazing "I remember you", the simple oh so beautiful lyrics. Then this rock ballad thing's been escalating rapidly, travelling through decades.
I just love that, searching your memory. Searching for something special, a theme, a relationship, extra ordinary situations - anything that's kept safe far back in the brain.
My mind is still set on those favourite rock bands and ballads from childhood and forth - loads keep piling up, songs I thought I'd forgotten. 12 years, that's how old I was when I heard "I remember you" for the first time: "Walking hand in hand, love letters in the sand." Adorable!
Music. Love. Memories. The memory. Interesting and kind of "big" stuff in life. Huge might be a bit closer to the truth. But there's a big problem, a huge issue - what are true memories and what are something more like a mix of things that really happened intertwined with pure fantasies, that have been developing through the years. Recalling something in a way that's just part true, and part consequence of bad memory or even make believe. Does it matter?
Was it really at age 12, when I listened to Skid Row's "I remember you" for the first time? Well yes of course, I'm certain of it. The question still stands, can I really be 100 percent certain? Probably not, but who cares?
If you look at it a bit closer, there are several occations where it really do matter. Well, obvious stuff like witnesses' statements for one thing. What I'm thinking of is something else, personal recollections, in one person's life. Does the rule of 100 percent's certainty apply to one persons own memories? Is it important for that one person? Does it matter for me, when it comes to my life and me living with a psychiatric disorder?
Why this is crucial for me to discuss, is beacause I spend lots, LOADS, of days and nights thinking and thinking and recollecting and wondering about exactly everything that's ever happened to me ever. Asking myself what would be the best thing to do that very second, minute, hour, day, tomorrow, the day after that, next week and so on. Tiresome is one word for it. Idiotically stupid another. Intellectual? No, I don't think so. Analyzing could be it, a small part of it - but there's so much more beyond that. *Sighing*, about me, myself and I thinking so bloody much!
Help me out here, people, if you're up for it. What do you think about thinking too much? Is it ever too much? Is it any good, can it lead to something better?
Think about it.