Of foggy roads and dying dreams

My old blue external hard drive had served me well for six years, but now it's time to move on.

Replacing old electronic hardware is not a big deal. After all, five years is about the average life span of an external hard drive. But factoring in the times where mine has been dropped or trampled by thick textbooks and heavy laptops, it should have died three years ago.

I'm so glad it didn't though.

Turns out this piece of metal is my only surviving memento of university life. Don't get me wrong, I still keep every birthday card and gift (even if I don't use it aka the chocolate fountain). But sooner or later, things would be lost, things would be forgotten, and things would be lost in the move. And twenty years from now you're wondering how you can be a hoarder and yet lose everything that matters.

I used to never understand why some of my friends would bring along their bulky, professional cameras to a simple trip. They don't mind the hassle. They don't mind having a less enjoyable experience. They don't mind tagging me on Facebook later. All that matters is leaving behind a traceable memory; because at the end of the day, anything stored in digital form would be permanent and can be easily revisited. I guess I owe them everything for knowing that early enough.

I'm realizing a lot of this now as I sift through the random collection of documents and photos in my hard drive. One thing that hasn't changed is that I'm still messy, then and now, because I'm looking through folders labelled "From Desktop 1", "Unsorted stuff", and the classic "asfgafgadsfa". I'm uncovering hundreds of interesting things that I had forgotten- ebooks, self-motivational wallpapers, password-protected word documents (that I can't open anymore), and music back when Hillary Duff was childless, and Westlife and Britney Spears still had hair.

Then there are the ones that are more personal: old CVs, vlogs??, dozens of application forms, successful letters :), rejection letters :(, interview guides, practice tests - things that reminded me of the sacrifices I made to get into med school. I still feel sorry for the 2009 me who apparently had to sort out numerous applications to medical schools in five different countries, prepare for three different aptitude tests and still expected to do well in Health Science First Year. But those were the dark ages.

Some of the things I'm reading is incredibly embarrassing but somewhat amusing. Here's the introduction to the first draft of my personal statement back when I was 17:

Alone in my room, I seated myself at my desk. I brushed away the James Patterson novels to one side as I placed my First Aid manual on the table. The silence of the room was only punctuated by my breathing. The sound of screeching cars and roaring buses started to fade into the distance as my mind screamed for me to concentrate. I closed my eyes, allowed fact after fact to rush into my head like foam-capped waves crashing mercilessly against the shore. I was going to take my First Aid Exam the next day. A hint of what a doctor's job is like.

T____T

Thankfully it didn't survive the final draft because I sound like I'm reading 50 Shades of Grey more than anything else.

As I'm processing through everything, I decided to leave everything untouched. It's not like urgently needing some free space or can't afford a new external harddrive. Maybe it's just the hoarder in me talking, or that everything in there has become a memento of my past. Those old, outdated CVs reminded me of how much I've grown and changed. Every song in that old playlist was once listened to for a reason, was rated 5/5 for a reason. I guess I owe it to my past to at least give each digital artifact the remembrance it deserves.

So I'm leaving my harddrive in the box where I keep my birthday cards and gifts. Only to be slowly forgotten, only to be slowly buried under more junk. Then one day it will be suddenly remembered, fished out from under cakes of dust and the trip down memory lane begins again.