Down the whole.

The music scholars of the Middle Ages were so concerned with the lost music of ancient Greece that they never bothered preserving historical records of their own music. The folks of the 1700s, enamored with the new romantic literature, were fascinated with the fantastic, and untrue, histories of the troubadors of the Middle Ages and forged troubador music to suit the romantic tendencies of their audiences. And there were several attempts to scrounge up a history and "discography" of actual troubador tunes. But, again, less attention was paid to the contemporary history of music in the 1700s.

It's strange that we never consider the times in which we live to be historical. One day my collar bone might be dusted with a fine brush, turned gently in the hand of a loving archeaologist, laid in a metal pan with a notecard that reads: female, 21st century. Professors and scientists and anthropologists might spend time contemplating what I loved or ate or wore. They might say, "She was from the Southern region. We can tell this by trace amounts of a substance, known in those days as 'grits', that we found nearby in an intact melamine dish. Therefore, we can guess that she was conservative and wore hoop skirts." It's hard to say how much they'll know. We might assume that weblogs preserve our thoughts and ideas for posterity, but it ain't necessarily so.

One day, I will cease to exist as an individual, when my collar bone and scapula come loose beneath a heap of dirt and Florida grass, and I will become a part of the culture into which I was born, a part of the historical legacy of the whole. My personal feelings will be supplanted by what is known as "Southern, American, woman, mother, etc." We only have these few years before we're swallowed up by impersonal history to be who we are as individuals. To make our own personal myths. To write our own personal histories.