Promises Broken, Chapter 1
I should start with some sort of preface, but I’m afraid to say that I’m no good at these things. I don’t know if I even need to point that out, really, as I’m sure it will all become far too evident should you choose to stick with me. In any case, maybe the best thing to say is that I have a horrible memory. Kind of an unfortunate condition for a storyteller, but it’s still a story I want to tell regardless of my various handicaps (Oh yes, I have others, but I figure I’ll only bother you with them as they come up). I really wish it were something I could blame on drugs or blunt trauma to the head or something exciting, but sadly there’s nothing unusual to be said about my condition. I remember things poorly. That just reminds me, I need to send some forms in my suitcase to my tax guy. Should I do that right now before I forget again? No, I’m building some sort of momentum; let’s work with this.
So yes, I have a bad memory. By this, I mean that in general I simply forget things. Honestly, it’s more of an issue in everyday life. I’m famous for having to take not one, but two extra trips to the grocery store to pick up items forgotten. That doesn’t happen often, but it’s not something most other people have to deal with on even a semi-regular basis, so I feel it does a decent job of showing what kind of person I am when it comes to my memory. As far as remembering the past, which is what this whole thing is about, it’s like that too. Oh, I can remember the shape of things, but many details get lost in the cracks. Maybe I’m just trying to find an excuse for whatever inconsistencies or blatant errors that find their way into all this. Who knows?
Oh, and that tax guy thing? That’s classic me as well. For some reasons, while my memory is a piece of shit, my brain does choose to hold on to various little things and spring them on me seemingly randomly. That’s usually the reasons for those occasional third trips to the super market. Sometimes in the middle of the second I’ll suddenly remember want to try out some recipe that I managed to jot down while watching some cooking show on some sleepless night. But you know what? Those aren’t really good examples of what I’m trying to say. Those things are useful, at least somewhat.
No, I’m really trying to say is that I’m prone to go off on ridiculous side tangents (much like this whole pre-amble is shaping up to be) and I should hope that you might be able to bear with me. In any case, you’ve been warned, so I’ve done what I can do.
Maybe I should get on with the story.
Most of it takes place in November.
November, to me, is a sadly underestimated month. It has Remembrance Day, and then what else? And it’s not like Remembrance Day is a grand occasion: The ever declining amount of veterans (fingers crossed here) observe it as a vigil to their fallen comrades, but as the new generations (of Canadians at least- In case you were wondering what the hell Remembrance Day is, it’s a Canadian holiday in the middle of November celebrating the sacrifice of war veterans) are born away from war, it becomes more of a practiced ritual and less of an actual tangible event. Halloween colors October, and December is… well, fairly obvious. Does November deserve to be used simply as extra shopping days until Christmas? No, I think not.
I see November as an anvil. (Please, bear with me.) In my mind, November is the month where relationships are broken. Sure, spring is the season of new love, and in that light November is the month where that love is tested. Just enough time for the cracks in relationships to begin to show and looming family holidays make November the prime check point- Go no further until you’ve had a chance to think things over, this is your last chance. November is the month where couples weigh the chance of spending the holidays alone against the burden of buying presents and, lord forbid, spending time with whoever their lack of foresight managed to shack them up with. In that regard, Valentine’s day is less a about love then it is a celebration of surviving the hellish onslaught of stress testing that is December and January. November is the anvil that relationships are placed upon to be hammered upon by their built up history. At the very least it should be. I can personally think of several family dinners that could have been well served by a carefully observed November months before.
Maybe that’s just part of the way I am. I’m aware that the way I think is far from the normal for a lot of people. I don’t know why my thoughts go in this direction, only that maybe November has just revealed it’s true form to me amongst the corpses of failed pairings and twisted husks that were formerly called love.
That… that happened in November.
If only I could take that back.
So yes, I have a bad memory. By this, I mean that in general I simply forget things. Honestly, it’s more of an issue in everyday life. I’m famous for having to take not one, but two extra trips to the grocery store to pick up items forgotten. That doesn’t happen often, but it’s not something most other people have to deal with on even a semi-regular basis, so I feel it does a decent job of showing what kind of person I am when it comes to my memory. As far as remembering the past, which is what this whole thing is about, it’s like that too. Oh, I can remember the shape of things, but many details get lost in the cracks. Maybe I’m just trying to find an excuse for whatever inconsistencies or blatant errors that find their way into all this. Who knows?
Oh, and that tax guy thing? That’s classic me as well. For some reasons, while my memory is a piece of shit, my brain does choose to hold on to various little things and spring them on me seemingly randomly. That’s usually the reasons for those occasional third trips to the super market. Sometimes in the middle of the second I’ll suddenly remember want to try out some recipe that I managed to jot down while watching some cooking show on some sleepless night. But you know what? Those aren’t really good examples of what I’m trying to say. Those things are useful, at least somewhat.
No, I’m really trying to say is that I’m prone to go off on ridiculous side tangents (much like this whole pre-amble is shaping up to be) and I should hope that you might be able to bear with me. In any case, you’ve been warned, so I’ve done what I can do.
Maybe I should get on with the story.
Most of it takes place in November.
November, to me, is a sadly underestimated month. It has Remembrance Day, and then what else? And it’s not like Remembrance Day is a grand occasion: The ever declining amount of veterans (fingers crossed here) observe it as a vigil to their fallen comrades, but as the new generations (of Canadians at least- In case you were wondering what the hell Remembrance Day is, it’s a Canadian holiday in the middle of November celebrating the sacrifice of war veterans) are born away from war, it becomes more of a practiced ritual and less of an actual tangible event. Halloween colors October, and December is… well, fairly obvious. Does November deserve to be used simply as extra shopping days until Christmas? No, I think not.
I see November as an anvil. (Please, bear with me.) In my mind, November is the month where relationships are broken. Sure, spring is the season of new love, and in that light November is the month where that love is tested. Just enough time for the cracks in relationships to begin to show and looming family holidays make November the prime check point- Go no further until you’ve had a chance to think things over, this is your last chance. November is the month where couples weigh the chance of spending the holidays alone against the burden of buying presents and, lord forbid, spending time with whoever their lack of foresight managed to shack them up with. In that regard, Valentine’s day is less a about love then it is a celebration of surviving the hellish onslaught of stress testing that is December and January. November is the anvil that relationships are placed upon to be hammered upon by their built up history. At the very least it should be. I can personally think of several family dinners that could have been well served by a carefully observed November months before.
Maybe that’s just part of the way I am. I’m aware that the way I think is far from the normal for a lot of people. I don’t know why my thoughts go in this direction, only that maybe November has just revealed it’s true form to me amongst the corpses of failed pairings and twisted husks that were formerly called love.
That… that happened in November.
If only I could take that back.
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