Memory Laps

 

Some people's minds play tricks on them. Mine is out to destroy me.

 

I know it sounds a little extreme, but I swear its an inside job. There is certain information a person needs to remember in order to not look like a complete goober, and my brain deliberately loses and mishandles this infomation in some Machiavelian attempt to take me out.

 

My nervous system does not have a problem storing infomation. No, sir. I know because it manages to retain every tatty piece of trivial knowledge I have ever come across whether I want to or not. Everything from useless facts from books to sludge that manages to ooze out of my TV while switching past E! Television*--it's all greedily sucked up by my mind with no regard for anything that affects my immediate life. Think of my brain as some psycho baggage clerk at an airport, loading luggage (information) onto a plane (my memory). He will be carefully loading a piece of Samsonite with "CALL YOUR GIRLFRIEND" printed on it in big letters, when all of a sudden he spots... a gum wrapper with "Most American cars honk in the tone of F" scraweld on it! Overjoyed, he flings the case into the back of the plane in order to go chase after this little piece of intellectual refuse. Later, when I go to claim my baggage, a broken Samsonite case will arrive, clothes scattered all about. I'll know it had something to do with my girlfriend, but just what has been lost. This will be followed by a gum wrapper, meticulously polished and smoothed out, ready to share with a world who doesn't give a hoot about what note their Explorers beep in.

 

What's even more annoying is that my mind is able to use these stupid facts as a weapon to make me look like a fool even when I don't have to remember anything. I will be given a simple command: "Go upstairs and bring down your laundry." I obey, but right when I reach the top of the stairs I hear a voice inside my head.

 

"Psst." it goes. "Lisbon is the capital of Portugal."

"That's right." I note.

"Not only that." the voice continues. "You really gotta pee."

 

So I return from upstiars, refreshed and feeling like I have accomplished something, when my mom asks for my laundry.

"Huh?" I ask, bewildered.

Mom rolls her eyes. "The laundry I sent you upstairs to get."

Then suddenly it will all come back to me and the little voice chuckles to itself. Sometimes if it has been especially clever my fly will be down, too. And it doesn't end with botching tasks. I can be sitting anywhere serious--church, an opera, the witness stand--and my mind will wait for the exact moment when everyone is silent to remind me of a scene from an old Saturday Night Live or, I am serious, play a fart noise.

 

There have been times when I've tried to use my trivia curse for good, but I have even been foiled in doing that. All my brain has to do is switch around some connections and all that I knew absolutely changes into wrongness. When I went to Disney World, I was able to get into the hot seat at the "Who Wants to be a Millionaire: Play It!" attraction. I was doing well, making my way up to the 250,000 question (getting the million-point question wins you a trip to New York to see Regis and possibly touch him when his bodyguards look away). The question had to do with which part of a plant produces pollen, and I was torn between the stamen or the pistil. Now, I had been able to remember the sexuality of plants in biology using a rather lewd memory device that I will not relate to here and definitely did not relate to at Disney World**. My mind wasn't just able to turn this device around on me, it created an entirely new, lewd device. Right there, out of thin air! Needless to say, I lost; but at least I'll never forget that the stamen produces pollen. I think...  

 

Regardless of what my mind puts me through, I can't completely blame it mind for behaving the way it does. I am the one who started feeding it weird info and immature comedy in the first place, after all. Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe my mind, its bank flooded with high calorie, low nutrient thoughts, is calling out for help in the only way it knows how. Heck, maybe it's just keeping my heart rate up with all those extra trips up and down the stairs. I guess what I'm really trying to say is

 

Cicadas chirp in the tone of E-sharp.

 

Yes, but I'm really trying to say... uh... darn!

 

Heh heh...

 

 

 

*   "Unfortuantely, Pamela and Tommy's relationship came to an unexpected close when Pamela refused to play 'Farmer Tom'."

**  If you're perverted enough, you can probably figure it out anyway.