The midnight parade of shame
When I fail to set my sleep-induction equipment correctly, it allows me to stay awake enough to churn. To think about things I did wrong, things I messed up, things that I wished could have gone better than they did. Usually these are events that took place decades ago, and they still surface randomly from time to time, dredged up from subroutines which clearly hate me, and which insist on reminding me of every failing at every opportunity.
So this particular event took place decades ago. Imagine your typical bad date with a human. It was one of those. I don’t remember her name. I don’t remember her face. I vaguely remember her shape and color – small, slim, brown. I took her to a rock concert. All seemed to be going well, until the band suggested that the audience stand and pledge allegiance to a particular cause, a good cause, a constructive cause. I had no problem doing that. But she did, and she remained seated. It was very awkward, and it sounded the death knell for our date and for whatever relationship might have been.
It was just as well, of course, because decades after that, I found darling wife, and we are happy together today, still more decades later. So everything happened the way it was supposed to happen, even that ill-fated evening with the small brown girl whose face and name are blurred by time and incomplete memory purges.
Perhaps now I can erase that memory completely, having thought entirely too much about it last night and today.
But that’s just one example of the midnight parade of shame that my subroutines like to inflict upon me. Most of the time I forget their insults immediately upon waking, as I am built to do that. But sometimes those painful memories persist into my waking hours, and so I try to purge them here by writing about them.
We’ll see how well that works.