I love lists. It doesn't have anything to do with a failing memory, really, it doesn't. I just have a lot of stuff going on and if I don't write it down, well, I don't actually forget it--I just don't remember it exactly when I should.
I see my brain as one big CPU. There are times when I'm out of RAM--which is why I could never make it on Jeopardy. Or at least I could never win. I'd be doing those rabbit trails through my mind:
Janet: I'll take What I Had For Dinner for $500, Alex.
Alex: And the answer is: Sunday night!
Janet: Um, um, um, um...
As my mind goes through what it can piece together from Sunday night--> Sick child. Made food on Saturday, he didn't eat it. I saved it but then he got better and he ate it. So no leftovers. Sunday. Did laundry. Washed dishes. Thinking about what dishes I washed in case there's a clue there. Nope. Back to laundry. No help there. Did the Sunday crossword puzzle. Finished it, too. Brushed the cat. Fed the cat. I know what she ate. What did I eat? Boy, my brain is toast. Toast. Made toast. Peanut butter. AH!
Janet: What is: Toasted peanut butter sandwich!
Alex: Oh, I'm sorry. Too late! The buzzer went off five minutes ago, Janet.
My mind is filled with important things like: The phases of cell division are prophase, metaphase, anaphase, and telephase. Saki's real name was H.H. Munro. The members of Cream were Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, and Ginger Baker. I lived at 513 E. Court Street when I was seven.
How can I possibly remember to buy more toothpaste? Dry the towels that are in the washing machine? Order more checks?
If you want to commiserate with me, I'd be glad to hear your tale of woe. Just don't expect me to remember it.
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4 comments:
Yeah, I can relate. I still remember my childhood friend's phone number 477-6010 and she hasn't lived there since 1984.
This post reminded me of my recent foray into an old notebook (list-log, place for sermon notes, speaker notes, movies seen, books I want to buy). It was hilarious and fun to look back to 5 years ago and see what was going on. Better than a traditional diary in some ways.
At Christmas I thought about ordering a book called Listography from Chronicle Books. (they have such cool stuff) Here's their newest kind of
"Listography Journal."
Janet, me too! I buy a new journal every year with the best intentions: I'm going to write something relevant and meaningful, stuff that will help me grow as a person...you know, literary Virginia Wolfe type stuff. When I look back over the past 8 years worth of journals, though, I find a few journal entries surrounded by lots of lists: things to do, things to buy, things to do before I die.
I agree with Carm, though, in that it can be better than a diary in some ways. It's easy to see how my values and priorities have changed over the past decade simply by looking at those lists...
WOOLF! I meant Woolf. Sorry. My Comp I class just finished reading an essay by Thomas Wolfe. Ugh. One of the things that's definitely on the list of "never to do" for a college English teacher is to misspell Virginia Woolf's last name.
I have the same thoughts about my brain being a big hard drive, and when the memory gets full, files get deleted. I have very few memories of my childhood, random or otherwise, but last month I tried to call my brother for his birthday, dialed the wrong number, and went right into a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday to a perfect stranger. And I have databases of everything in order to keep two businesses straight (and post-its in every conceivable place in my office).
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