Remember when I got my first camera? It was a monumental moment.
That day forward, my life became a movie.
Making Lady Gaga music videos and doing photoshoots everywhere.
But before then, if I wanted to capture a moment my first thought wasn't to upload 100 unedited photos online (peak Facebook IMO),
I would just hope to remember it.
One of those times I'll never forget was the day I got my license. Both of us hair blowing in the wind, cruising by the Seawall in Gansett.
Windows down.
Sunroof open.
Avicii's Levels playing so damn loud I could feel the bass through my chuck taylors.
In that obnoxiously teen moment we looked at each other and in unison screamed
"CORE MEMORY!!!"
Almost as if by saying those words out loud we've guaranteed locked it away in our memory bank forever.
A special treat to pull out of our pockets whenever we needed it, a pick-me-up on our hardest days.
Funny to think I don’t have any photos from that moment but I carry that memory with me every day.
Isn’t it wild to think about those times compared today's culture?
Undocumented bliss
I wonder how things will change with it being easier to document everything on our phones.
All I know is that I need more cloud,
er-memory cards,
or memory orbs,
or whatever-the-fuck futuristic memory storage solution comes next because I want to remember everything.
Losing my memory, I've realized, is a huge fear of mine.
After my Papa I find that at times I can be obsessive with how I document things so I don’t forget.
This manifests itself in a lot of cool ways like scrapbooks, journals and nice photos, but trying to capture every aspect of my life often leaves me overwhelmed and disappointed in myself.
I'm never capturing enough or doing the memory artistic justice.
There's just too much about being human that I want to remember.
I find myself reliving these curated memories at a surface level. Giving the cliff notes versions of my most precious moments because they’ve “already seen it online.”
It made me realize that telling a story based on how it made me feel in that moment is much more meaningful than just showing documentation of that memory to someone.
Anyone can take a photo but only you can relive your memories and make people feel like they were there with you.
So lately I've been trying to dial it back.
Telling myself to capture the most important stuff, but what qualifies something as "the important stuff"?
What makes a core memory?
Is it the people? The place? The feelings?
To me it's the feeling of realizing we don't want to be anywhere else in time or space than that very moment.
Noticing this while it's happening seems exceptionally rare in the distracted world we live in but we should all be striving to create more core memories and not just document them, but truly live them.
Our future, and current selves will probably thank us.
So let me ask you...
What is one of your favorite core memories?
I’m asking my friends because I love hearing what sticks with people and understanding why it resonates with them.
We all have so much to learn from our memories and why we remember something. Everyone wants to be remembered (especially brands).
So I want to know what makes something a memorable experience and how we can apply that to our work, art and relationships to live more authentic lives.
Oh! Before I forget, thank you again for the champagne you sent me and James, you're so sweet 🍾 I mean speaking of core memories my man really knocked it out of the park with this one.
I know I just said I wouldn’t give you the cliff notes version but I’ll save that story for another call because this voicemail is already wayyy too long.
But I will say this was a rare occurrence where I felt completely present in the moment AND I got beautiful documentation thanks to my very thoughtful friends.
Anyways, James and I couldn't be more excited! I'll try to keep the wedding talk to minimum. Again, living not just documenting 😉
I gotta go because we’re headed to the farmer’s market, keep me posted on your core memory.
Okay, talk soon.
Byeee!
Core Memories | Sorry I Missed You (10)