I was trying to remember the kids’ game where the objective was to take the cards it came with and mix them up,place them face down in a grid pattern, and then try and remember where the pairs were. You would turn them over and then remember the placement of the cards. The one with the most pairs would win. I was trying to envision the particular game I saw in my brain. I could not come up with it. I Googled it….the name of the game was “The Memory Game”. Need I say more? Of course I must.
I try to take a positive spin on the amount of information I have on tap in my brain. After so many years of experiencing things directly, or through the spoken word, or written word or Googled word, I know a lot. My memory of information is remarkable. Am I a savant? Of course not. The content of what I wish to remember at moments when I need to recall something, is usually inaccessible. I have a theory about this, among the theories I have about things I think about a lot. I see this blog as part of my ….wait a minute for me to remember what word I think captures this….still thinking….not green house, not laboratory, although that is somewhat like the word I am still trying to place….perhaps it will come to me, most likely during the night as my brain, much like IBM’s Watson, is going, going, going, until I figure it out. I conceptulize our brains to be like a giant closet that we have had over time. It is filled to what we believe is its capacity, until we go and buy another piece of black clothing, because we frankly can’t find the black piece of clothing that we know we have somewhere but when we need it, it is gone, baby, gone. So we replace it and then magically, it reappears. That makes us feel better, because, you just can’t have enough black clothing if you are a cosmopolitan woman, or a cat burglar. So here comes another random comment…why are cats considered sneaky….why is it Cat Burglar and Not Dog Thief…. Okay back to the brain closet. I am constantly sorting through my closet, replacing things, reorganizing things, throwing things away inadvertently, or advertently(yes, a word). So much stuff. I have moved about 14 times in my life and I was not a military brat. I find moving to be somewhat an opportunity to purge things that you don’t use. Then you get to reorganize your stuff in your closets/cupboards etc. The brain, as a metaphor, can be moved to many places, both emotional and psychological. Like a closet, it has deep dark corners and in the shadows hides things we put away for safekeeping until we need to find them. That’s the challenge, finding them when it is needed.
I have taken to being a list person. It is the latest tool that I consider invaluable, much like Google. Organizing my day, my thoughts, my tasks at hand, requires a list. Who doesn’t plan to remember the things you need at the market, only to get home and find, that even when you see it and pass it in aisle 13, your jam packed brain, is not jarred visually and when you remember it, is well past when you saw it. Along with that is the corrolary, that you buy something you spy in a store because you remember triumphantly that you need it (usually a condiment or five pounds of flour) only to find out that you had that very same thought last week and when you get home, you find that you now have ten pounds of flour and four bottles of mustard. Who among us, writes a list, and loses the list and finds the list, long after you need the list. I want to rely on my memory but I think we all forget to remember. It’s nice to be surrounded by the people I care about especially my FHB (for those new to this blog, it stands for Favorite Human Being, aka my husband who doesn’t like being reference by name). My FHB is my back up closet. We talk in that familiar code of statements such as “So, did you remember the thing?” and he smiles and says “Yes, it’s in the car, I forgot to bring it upstairs”. Or the ever familiar, when you are watching a television show…” doesn’t he look like what’s his name?” and he responds ” you mean the guy who was in that show about the guy who did something when he lost his memory or something like that?” It is such a comfort to know that when I can’t remember, in that critical moment, it doesn’t matter, because when I do remember, I can check it off my list.
By the way, I will take any and all suggestion as to the word I was trying to retrieve back in the beginning of this post. If I remember, I will post it on Monday. If I forget, hey, that’s life.