I Don't Remember Why I Wrote This

Memento is an interesting take on a widely studied form of reterograde amnesia. It's an ingenious plot idea to explore what the consequences of someone's life with this condition could be. It's also puts a direct spotlight on the dynamic and imperfect nature of memory. This semester, I have been helping a professor who is studying memory to code autobiographical narratives of stressful events in people's lives. People talk about these moments in many different ways, and it is my job to give a rating to each phrase of the narratives based on whether it is factual or interpretive (and then a number based on why). A "stressful event" in someone's life varies greatly from person to person based on their experiences and personalities. Some include horrific diagnoses of loved ones, while others describe tripping down the stairs at graduation. Most of the phrases that are coded are given an interpretive rating, despite many of them being simple descriptions of what happened to the person. This is because certain things are emphasized ("It was freezing cold") or because they are internal ("I was so nervous"). As I continue to code, I realize how few pieces of these stories can be considered 'factual'. These statements are things like "I picked up the phone" or "It was raining". It is generally agreed upon that we remember things better when they had an impact on us, and even more so when this impact is negative. If this is the case, these memories are bound to be filled with "interpretive" content. Obviously we don't remember what we had for lunch a few weeks ago, but we would remember several details about the day someone we knew passed away. I've been thinking about all this quite a bit as we watch Memento, and find it difficult to imagine living life without any short-term memory at all, however imperfect it may be.