Physiological Sculptor

My Empty Solid State Drive 

My physiological baseline does not sustain Long term memory, and I would like it to. 
This way, the moment could be savored, and the quest embarked deeply, embedded into my memory.
Memory was this fleeting desire, for I am someone who spends countless hours trying to get to the bottom of things, in an attempt to figure it out—everything, all the time. I sure have a keen way of relinquishing all traces of it from my mind.
Not sure if it’s because of my lack of priority in some regard, or an active and a pertinent way of thinking about things, so they are able to reach my long-term memory—long-term or even short-term memory receptors in my brain. If this, by some means, is hereditary and out of my control, because my mom is the same way.
However, my mom and I do have something very prominent in common. We are both notoriously stressed and anxious people.
Maybe it’s because our minds only ever try to get to the bottom of things solely in any given moment, because we believe that if we do, maybe, just maybe, we will be relieved from some level of anxiety or stress that we’re feeling about anything at any given moment.
Maybe my mom and I’s brains operate and learn only when—only when it is a mirror of survival. Like, only our brains operate and learn only by means of survival, rather than by means of anything else.
For example, nearly everything I do with persistence, which for us hinders, is fairly fundamental to our daily function, needing, including these things. But mostly, any other gratification for learning or doing really anything is, in my life, has always been an extension of my subconscious incessant dread or direct need to calm down, relax, and control something.
So, my control to aid my fight-or-flight stress response to a different area of my life, of which is not within my control.
Could this be a development of a new baseline that could sustain long-term memory?Why don't we flip the script and turn the old, new-age narrative on its back?
What would come of it?
Symbiosis.
I'd suspect, for some time, until the majority is able to sustain itself long enough to create balance, that the awareness of one would multiply into the collective consciousness, creating another ripple in the evolution of the human experience—a place of people adapting to one another until they evolve and abound once more.
The computers we've created to mimic humans, and our current understanding of intelligence, have led us somewhere unexpected.
What if we've been looking at evolution the wrong way?
Back to the Future presents us with a misconception. We imagine watching our own species evolve before our own eyes as though it's science fiction.
Of course it's already happening.
We watch younger companies redefine industries. We watch technologies emerge that solve problems in ways we never imagined. We compare today's intelligence with yesterday's as if progress happens in isolated leaps, but perhaps we're missing something much larger.
What if we're already witnessing the evolution of human intelligence—not biologically, but psychologically and culturally?
You may be saying to yourself at this point, "Power builds on itself."
I'd argue our understanding of relativity offers another way of looking at it. We naturally compare things to themselves, to what came before, and to what appears similar. We compare human intelligence side by side, generation by generation, assuming that's the only meaningful measure.
But what if that's the wrong comparison?
What if the real evolution isn't found in the individual, but in the transfer of awareness itself?