I have a terrible memory. I really don’t like this about myself. I wish I could lock each moment into my brain with incredibly specific detail. But I only remember only seven things from the last 30 years:
1.) Playing piano on Easter sunday for my Dad.
2.) Walking in on my uncle’s girlfriend naked in the shower.
3.) Huddling in the church hallway until the angel, who called himself Fred then disappeared, saved my family and our minivan from that tornado.
4.) The day in middle school when, mid-cheerleading practice, for which I was a tall and patient human pyramid base, I realized what exactly deordant is, and why I required it.
5.) My first day of grad school in NYC, when walking to class, I overheard someone say that their most poignant memory of 9/11 was how silent the city was on that day, without the hum of departing and arriving planes.
6.) Watching a gypsy woman in Rome hide in an alley and peel off her own scalp with a knife, to appear more deserving of charity.
7.) This morning at the gym when I realized that I’ve seen She’s Out of my League about 37 times.
Other than that, it’s basically a blur. Thankfully, I have this blog, which I’ve now been bloggy upon for over 5 years. I can now click on past months to remember what exactly I was doing, how I was feeling, what silly thing I was eating or buying or fretting over, one year ago. If you’re curious, December 5th, 2011, Craig Wright gave me a tiny chess set and I wore a dress with tiny people walking tiny dogs. This information provides little perspective, hindsight or foresight wise, but still, it’s just nice to know.