Ten years later

Last night I threw away most of my notebooks from college. I flipped through
a few of them. It was like paging through someone else's photo album and
realizing that I was the one who took all the photos. I could see my
handiwork and my passion for learning and knowledge. The things I could do
and the stuff that I knew are all history. I'm glad that I have that history,
but the notebooks are bland-faced keepsakes filled with unintelligible
markings, so they are better gone. It's best not to be reminded of what I've
forgotten. The memories that survive are all that is necessary.