That’s what people remember…
What do you think people remember about you?
Is it everything you’d hoped they’d remember about you or… is it everything you’d hoped they’d forget?
People have a strange way of remembering what you want them to forget and of forgetting what you want them to remember…
…they feel the same way about you as a person who remembers and forgets… all the wrong things.
… and we all try so hard to force the rightness of ourselves onto others.
“Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are but to refuse what we are.”
― Michel Foucault
Okay… forget that…
What do people actually recall when you remind them that you exist?
Because people have a strange way of forgetting your existence entirely… um… how is that possible!?!
Come on… you’ve done it too… unless you’re like.. totally perfect!
Remember valley girl talk… that was ‘in’ once, a fad… it’s hip to be cool, but it’s also hip to hate hipsters and their idol worship of being cool.
Wtf was I talking about…?
And when they do remember you… perhaps because you remind them to remember you… what is it that they remember about you?
Is it your style?
“Style. That’s what people remember.”
― Terry Pratchett
It’s kind of funny… the quote above… I edited it by pasting and matching style…
… I’m the only one chuckling… that’s not as embarrassing as it might seem to be… perhaps because I’m used to it and… it’s part of my style.
The embedded link in the words – my style – will lead you to a Daily Post prompt which is… old.
They often regurgitate their daily prompts – they’ve got a book of these, you know, which can be bought if you can be bothered to buy it – and they really can’t be bothered to come up with new stuff daily because… if we can’t be bothered to… change our underwear every day then why should they… or something like that (apologies to those who change your underwear every day… … …why?).
So… let’s just go with this as being new and pretend it’s not old. Just like we pretend… loads of other things.
Happy birthday!!! Oh, what a surprise!!!
Here’s the question of the prompt (if you’ve heard it before pretend you haven’t – you might answer it differently this time than you did before… or not. Or maybe it is new to you, so you’re… kind of excited about being asked this. Either way… that’s something something):
Describe your personal style, however you’d like to interpret that — your clothing style, your communication style, your hair style, your eating style, anything.
Wait… don’t be too eager to answer… let this simmer a bit before you jump in… unless of course you’re an angel who goes where others fear to tread with such haste as though your wings are on fire… so flying time is limited.
Many of us like to dip our toes in the water of style and figure out whether we want to go public with things, like our style… what’s the temperature or frequency, Kenneth?
Like leggings… I did that quite openly the first time it was in vogue… and later watched as the next generation, and the generation after that, and my own generation (some of whom wore those leg thingies but burned all the evidence) ripped the piss out of leggings… so it was quite a surprise when something so hated by stylistas and fashionistas suddenly was loved by them… again… as though someone had just invented the light bulb or the 3-D book (in these days of books read on kindle and stuff which is flat… come on, you’re waiting for it, aren’t you… for someone to invent a 3-D version of a book… um… but… yeah, yeah…).
You caught me once doing stylist fashion shit… not catching me doing that again! Haha!
If you’re going to laugh at me… I want to enjoy it too… enjoy the flip side as it slowly dawns on you that I really don’t care… I’ve tried caring and it’s just not worth it when it comes to style…
This is me…
Je m’en fous…
Yes, I know everything about me is bad for me… just because I know it, doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it, especially if the only one it bothers is you… but it doesn’t bother me… much…
… but right now I think you should be focusing the energy you’re using up on finding fault with me (and worrying about it… and perhaps its implications infecting you) on fixing yourself… you’re looking a bit feverish, queasy, faint… was it looking at my photo… oh, dear…
It’s okay… you look beautiful… when broken…
I’m kidding, of course…
what was this about…?