O brain where art thou

I feel so far away from my blog these days. Anyone even still checking this thing? Blog friends can you hear meeee? (Please sing that in a Barbra-in-Yentl sort of way, if you don’t mind).

I have been in one of those spirals where I have been franctically busy for 80% of my time, and so then the remaining 20% I just hide in my house doing nothing but crossword puzzles with my blanket and Jon Stewart. (Not that Jon Stewart is with me under my blanket, but listen, I wouldn’t kick him out if he was).

I have been conducting a little scientific experiment this week and it is this. I have been trying to prove that I have a finite amount of brain space, and once that space is used up, I become a complete and total blithering idiot. Ok, so I haven’t been trying to prove it, so much as just proving it unintentionally.

First of all, Delium was over for dinner the other day, and he was telling me about this movie shoot that he was on (have I ever mentioned that one of the many things Delium does is be an actor? I feel like I have somehow never mentioned this fact, but that can’t be right), and he was going on about how Bubbles was in this movie, and how he got to meet him, and it was so awesome. And the whole time he was talking, I was thinking “Michael Jackson’s chimp is still alive? And he is in movies now? And Delium is hanging out with him? WHAT.” Yeah, well he was talking about the guy who played Bubbles in The Wire. Which, if you had been there and heard the context of this story, would have been totally clear to you. I was excited about 2 degrees of separation from The Wire, but disappointed about there not being an awesome chimp story.

Brain space- that one wasn’t so bad, right? That was earlier this week- Monday. It gets worse.

The next thing that happened was that I was telling Nordic Boy a story, and I wanted to say that I thought a certain thing ever since I was a kid. So, I could have said “Ever since I was a kid…” or I could have said “Since I was a kid…” Either one. But somehow I tried to say it both ways together, and so I said “Since ever since I was a kid,” to which Nordic Boy was all “wait, what did you just say? Since ever since?” And I looked at him like he was a nut bucket and said, “UM YEAH. Since ever since I was a kid, I…” And he said, “since ever since? What is that?” And I honestly couldn’t process what was wrong with saying it like that. I hereby declare it ok for you to sing “Since ever since you’ve been gone” whenever that Kelly Clarkson song comes on.

Then, at the end of my work day the other day, just before leaving, I was emailing with two of my friends about having them over for dinner. They have never been to my house before, and so I was typing out my address, and the more I looked at it, the more I was convinced that that wasn’t my address. And the more I that I thought that, the more that I couldn’t think of what my address really was. Finally, I had to open Google maps, type in what I had written, and map that shit out to see if it matched up where I live. AND IT DIDN’T.

I had to google map my own damn address people. And then it was wrong.

This weekend, you may find me with my blankie and dvr episodes of Jon. If I can figure out where I live and get home ok.



  1. Still here, yup. I sometimes absolutely and perfectly forget whether my street number goes before or after the compass direction, like 33rd St NE or NE 33rd St, one of which is not a legitimate address, and I have to stop and make my brain say "northeast 8th street" which is a street in my hometown of Bellevue, because that recalibrates my brain. It's like I really don't know, so I have to figure it based on a separate, known point on earth. I also forget my home phone number on paperwork and put down a similar one from my college days, or mix them together. Banks love that. Take your time about the blog. We'll wait. Like dogs on the back porch.

  2. A lot of that going around. I typed 'where' instead of 'were' three times in a work report this week, and couldn't figure out why it looked wrong. Then I went to the grocery store to buy four things and could remember only two of them when I got there. In my office we call that "brain lobus," from when a client called to have her son evaluated because the kid's radiology report said he had "lobus." I finally figured out she was talking about 'brain lobes.'I read you religiously, in the atheistic sense of the word. Thanks for writing!

  3. Yoohooo! Totally still here, we blog buds have to stick together in these hard times! Cold weather makes you lose brain power. And getting older too. Since I had my birthday a couple of weeks ago the number of words I have put in the wrong place in the wrong context has been bonkers! Keep on writing, we luuuuuuurrrrve you 😀

  4. I actually thought of you (in a nice, unstalker way) at a party last weekend because I was remembering that you have blogged about little hiccups in this American Melting Pot Project we have in progress. A guy was going on and on about "those people" and I thought he was building up to some racist crap that I would have to get in his face about, and then he revealed the source of his stereotyping. "You know how they all are- those rangers." Ha ha, it's intra-military rivalry. I think that's okay, right?

  5. Yup, I've got the same thing going on lately. I blame it on being 7 months pregnant, but I have this fear that that's not really it, and that I really am just becoming more and more forgetful and absentminded the older I get. And that really does scare me.Oh, and I have this weird habit of confusing my bank account number with the sum of my parents' home phone number added to my high school best friend's home phone number. I have no earthly idea why I have that string of numbers memorized 15 years later (I think I must've added it up while bored in algebra class one day and somehow memorized it), but there it is.

  6. I also read you religiously and very much enjoy all you have to say even if I never, ever comment. Also, I stopped at the Seattle airport twice last week and thought of you both times. That sounds creepy, but it's not meant to.

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