Memory Loss is the New Black

I enjoy going out to lunch, during the week. It's nice to get out, away from the unforgiving work flow, and catch up with friends. Apparently, I like going out to lunch so much, that I made plans with 4 different people for the same day.

Back in college, I used to paint a lot. I used oil based paints that require a strong solvent, to make them pliable. There were all sorts of natural options, to dilute the paint, like linseed oil and the sort. I chose turpentine.

Painting with turpentine, for hours on end, in my 10x10 foot room at my parents house, was a bad idea. I'm pretty sure the toxic air was pinching out the tiny life candles of, more than a few of, my precious brain cells.

My first car was a '79 Celica hatchback. I named it Henry. There was a hole in the floor board, directly behind the clutch. Perfect for resting my heel, but not so perfect when it rained. In the winter, the doors would occasionally freeze shut. Unlocking the hatch gained me access to the car, but crawling through the collection of empty food containers and various other sticky contents was, in hindsight, unfortunate garbage disposal on my part.

Beyond all this charm, it was also missing it's gas cap. Something I could have easily remedied, and a detail that did not go unnoticed, by the occasional passenger. Their window would always come down, in an attempt to diffuse the fumes. I didn't notice.

So when the calls confirming my 4 different lunch plans started to come in, I thought back to these two poor choices. There's no way to prove if, these avoidable circumstances, had contributed to my unfortunate habit of crowding my social plate.

Yes, I said habit.

This isn't the first time, and sadly, it won't be the last. If I'm lucky, I'll live as long as any white, slightly overweight, male should live. But knowing the state of my memory today, I'm troubled that, perhaps in 10 years, I'll happen upon a day with 6 lunches to attend.

I can't remember phone numbers either, and have been known to look up even my own. That said, I store everything. Every detail of my life has been stored and cataloged on a computer.

I can tell you when my friends were born, when someone died, dates of parties past, when certain albums came out, how much your child weighed upon birth, and your sister's finance's IM address.

I started my data collecting with my Sharp Wizard pocket organizer, in the early 90's. It had 64k worth of memory and was an important fixture in my daily life. Don't know how insignificant 64k is, by today's standards? To store just one of your favorite Steve Miller MP3s (let's assume it's "Fly Like an Eagle,") I'd need a total of 49 of the 64k Sharp Wizard personal organizers.

Having this mass of data has come in handy, more often than you'd think. People at work know to ask me when they can't find the number for Custom Freight, I'm one of the only ones that will remember your birthday, and I always know when craw fish are in season.

The price I pay for being a super organized data hound, is that I rely on the computer and I know very little, off the top of my head. If I was lost in some forest, days passing by with no sign of life, and then suddenly happened upon a working pay phone, I wouldn't even be able to call my girlfriend.

So is it the various fumes, or the computer that is to blame? More importantly, who have I chosen to grace with my presence at lunch today? Hopefully it's the one person reading this post.