SSA Ep. #45: What Was This Blog Supposed to be About?

The way I see it, there are two ways my life could go.  Either I will develop skin cancer and die while still relatively young, or I'll beat that skin cancer (I'm pretty sure the skin cancer will develop eventually--it is my destiny) and live to be really, really old.  And if I live to be really, really old, I'll have Alzheimer's Syndrome.  I'm pretty sure the Alzheimer's is unavoidable, too, simply because my 31 year old brain is already having serious trouble making and keeping connections.  I do crossword puzzles and Sudoku and other things to try to sharpen my brain power, but it's kind of a lost cause.  I think I've already started a very very gradual decline towards completely losing my memory.

For instance, I have thought of dozens and dozens of wonderful socially awkward topics about which to blog, but alas, thirty seconds after I've dreamt them up, I forget them.  I might remember some of these topics on some random day during some random encounter, but some of them are probably forgotten forever.  Just last night, I had some brilliant topic that I was going to blog on today, but...I forgot it.

That kind of thing happens a lot.  I walk into a room and can't remember why.  I stand up to go do something, only to sit down a second later because I can't remember what I was about to do.  I learned a long time ago that if I think up a good line for a poem, I'd better write it down immediately or it'll get lost somewhere in the fluffy synapses of my brain. 

Sometimes I think my head is like Winnie the Pooh's...stuffed with fluff.  I guess that beats one of the alternatives.  Poor Eeyore--stuffed with sawdust.  Yeah, I see you judging the gloomy little guy.  You'd be gloomy too if you were stuffed with sawdust.  And if your tail kept falling off.  So there. 

Yeah, but anyway, I was kind of just writing this in hopes that I would remember what I was originally going to blog about today, but I don't think that's going to happen.  Maybe it will come to me sometime tomorrow while I'm at work, trying to remember what some kid just asked me to do for them.  Maybe it's lost forever.  Maybe someday when I'm in a nursing home drooling in my jello (which I won't remember that I don't like), I'll remember it.  I might not remember my own name, but I'll remember what I was going to blog about today.

All I know is that it was brilliant.  It was a brilliant topic.  Perhaps it was so brilliant that it would change the world and life as we know it.  Perhaps that's why my brain forgot it.  It was a fail safe.  My poor memory is the one defense the world has from knowing my insane genius!  ...so all the world ends up seeing is the insane part.  Thanks, brain.  Thanks a lot.

And please no one take this the wrong way, because I know this is horrible.  I'm not making fun of anyone besides myself.  My great grandmother had Alzheimer's and it's a horrible, horrible thing.  I've been blessed to not have any other close family members to have had it, so far (and I'm hoping never).  But one day I was talking to my roommate about Alzheimer's, and I was saying how I hoped no one in my family ever got it.  And then I said something that made me laugh hysterically, because it was funny in a pathetic way--which pretty much describes most of my life.  I said, "If anyone in my family has to get Alzheimer's, I hope it's me.  I don't have any kids who will worry about me, and if I'm going to be sad and alone someday, it might be kind of nice to not know what was going on."

Yeah.

SSA Ep # 18: Forgetful Gratitude

I'm pretty good at some things. I can sing. I can write. I dominate at word games. I can make kids laugh. I can sometimes make grown ups laugh, too. But I'm not good at everything. I mean, one person can't have ALL the awesome talents. I'm bad at sports. I can't dance (unless the hokey pokey counts). I can only draw well enough to impress a four year old. I am only fairly sure I'd be a pathetic rodeo clown, but to be fair, I've never really tried. ...and I'm pretty sure I never will...

One thing I'm horribly, horrifically, terribly, and very very BAD at is taking compliments. I've gotten slightly better at it, but at the end of the day I still find myself guiltily replaying the conversations I had throughout the day in my mind:

Friend/Coworker/Parent/Or Other Nice Person: I love that shirt you're wearing!
Me: I got it at Target. $9.00. On Clearance.

or

F/C/P/ONP: You've lost more weight, haven't you? You look great!
Me: Actually, I think I've gained weight since last week.

or

F/C/P/ONP: I heard you singing those high notes in choir today. You have a pretty voice.
Me: I have a slight cold, so I'm surprised I didn't croak this morning.

or

F/C/P/ONP: The blog you wrote last night made me laugh.
Me: Which one? Oh, that one? Yeah. That was a totally awkward situation, huh?

I have conversations simliar to those above on a fairly regular basis. I'm not sure if my replies to these compliments come from some sort of self-esteem issue or just because I feel the need to say something witty. The one theme I notice in all situations is that I often forget something very important. I forget to say "Thank you."

It's not because I'm not thankful (though I suspect I'm not as grateful as I should be). I mean, I get a lot of compliments from people. It's not because I'm particularly awesome--it's because I have awesome friends who choose to see good things in other people. I love my friends. I love the parents I have come to know over the years. I love my coworkers. I'm exceedingly grateful for them and for the constant encouragement they are to me.

But I forget to say thank you. If someone compliments me on something I'm wearing, why do I feel the need to mention to them where I got it? Do I think they're going to run out and buy one just like it? Do I just want to brag that I scored an amazing purchase? If someone compliments me on a talent I have, do I try to appear more humble by downplaying it? If someone compliments me just because they care and want to say something nice, do I try to come up with some response other than "thank you" because I feel the need to fill the conversation with meaningless and not-as-witty-as-I-think-it-is chatter?

I think the answer to all of those is YES.

So, it is apparent that I have a problem.

But what do they say? Admitting you have a problem is the first step? The first step to what? I don't know.

I hope it's not a dance step. I so can't dance.

(In case I've forgotten to thank you for a compliment or anything else, let me say it right now: THANK YOU!)