Aug 26.

8/26/2025 7:41. Correspondence 11

Tuesdays are long for me. Very long. I will be honest: I'm not sure what to say today. Today was such a typical day. It's also hard to slip back into the groove of ideal blog posts after the last two days, but that's what I should do, I suppose.

 Today was a day that I will almost certainly not look back on. You ever have those days? You certainly have, even if you didn't realize it in the moment. Today is one of those days, and I think that is fascinating. I've always been drawn to the ordinary. The unasuming. The unnoticeables in life. I love cities because it is all I can see when I look around. I love to choose a brick in the wall and try to picture its history. I try to look past the ordinary and see the hands that laid it. I try to see the faces that have, are, and will pass every day. No one gives that brick a glance. That brick never has had a moment to bask in its unrecogined brilliance. The simple magnificence that has led to its creation, placement, and rest for sometimes generations. I love those thoughts beyond belief. 

Today is similar to that brick. The chances I will be remembered in even 200 years are frankly slim. And that's my entire life and identity, and achievements. Can you imagine the chances that today will be remembered in 200 years? How about 50? 1? Even just six months. It's difficult to even consider. That's beautiful to me, though. This day will be forgotten to make way for new, beautiful memories and experiences. It will be pushed aside to make room for new information. It will be deleted to gain a new perspective of the world. The me typing this, the me that is sitting in this small room at 8:16 PM, will not exist anymore. There will be no memory, no recollection, no anything. I won't even remember that I'm forgetting something. I might be a completely different person in 10 years with entirely different values and thoughts, and the me writing this will be a stranger, nearly impossible to recall. All that would be left is this. This post will be the only proof that this day even existed. 

I have a friend who has a self-described irrational fear that she will forget things. She writes down nearly everything that happens to her. She hoards videos and photos of herself to remind her of key events or days. She saves any physical representations of memories. I don't see that as an irrational fear; I see it more now as trying desperately to prevent the inevitable. Your true death in this universe: to forget and to be forgotten. 

That's why we need to try to appreciate things no matter how small or insignificant. No one knows who laid that brick or poured that concrete, but pausing and thanking them for their contribution to our world revives them for that while. Staring at the fabric of the world around us prolongs their memory a while longer, even if we don't know their face or name. Same for days like this. They are forgettable and inconsequential, so let's enjoy them while they exist fresh in our heads.

I truly apologize if I gave any of you, my dear readers, an existential crisis. Don't panic. My advice to you: Make yourself a perfect cup of hot tea just the way you like it (if you don't like tea, any warm drink will do), and with each sip, appreciate that it's in your hands. 

Appreciate everything. 

I love you all, 

Calvin Landreth