Time
is limited; I think everyone realizes that whether or not we want to fully
believe it. Demarest uses the metaphor
of life as a highway, and the car’s speed representing time. Sometimes our lives fly by and we look back
and do not remember where all of the good times went. If we just happen to be cruising that day, we
will have memories imprinted in our brains that will stick out and shine, like
stars amongst the dust that we left behind in our haste to constantly get
older. This idea gives the audience a
concept to relate to, so that the concept of time is easier to wrap their head
around. It makes the issue more personal
for each individual. Also, Demarest
presents outside information that hits home, “‘But as long as I live, my past is rooted in
my present and springs to life with my present’” (Renza 271-272). Demarest takes a middle road between Vonnegut
and Nabokov’s approaches; time can be used as a structure for an autobiography,
or it can just be there for the author to touch on once in a while.
Time is
controllable. Demarest, personally
showed me that time can only affect a person and/or their writing if they want
it to. They can let the road pass by all
too quickly, or they can control the speed of their lives and enjoy each
moment. An autobiography is a purely
selfish work—not in a narcissistic way—where the focus is not on the past or
the present, but on what the author feels is important at that present time. So, author, throw out the rulebook and just
enjoy the sweet ride of life.
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