Forget me lots!

(Originally published 2/1/2006)

As human beings, it is only natural for us to forget things. Our minds are bogged down with work and family obligations, worries about the state of the world, and all of the time we spend wondering what it would be like to set Emmanuel Lewis up on a blind date with one of the Bush twins (maybe that last one’s just me). It has recently occurred to me just how forgetful I am.

Lately I’ve been doing things like forgetting to do my laundry until I have to wear swimming trunks under my dress pants to work. Or forgetting where I put my glasses or the keys to my apartment. Or looking frantically in my messenger bag for my transit pass (which ends up being in my pocket). There are so many things that we need to remember but cannot, things like birthdays, anniversaries, or to plug in the iron before we iron. I don’t think that there’s a lack of space in our brains. I think that some of the things that we need to remember just can’t fit in there next to having to remember a deadline or to go to the video store or to feed the baby. The problem is all the things in there that we just don’t need anymore. Most of the space in our heads is being taken up by the things that we just can’t seem to forget.

For example: How old is my father? I don’t know. When was the last time I had s*x with the guy who I thought was the love of my life? September 2004. What color are my friend Katie’s eyes? Beats me. What was the guy’s name who Mitch Bright broke up with me for in the Spring of 2000? Andrew.

Why do I remember these types of things but I don’t know how to spell my niece’s middle name? How is it possible to remember what I was wearing the last time I saw this British guy I have a huge crush on (a green zippy sweater that I looked awful in) but I don’t know my sister’s married name?

Emotional scars and obsessions aside, our brains are also filled with bizarre trivia that we could live for a million years and never find useful. For example, I know every lyric to every Indigo Girls song (go on, test me). Who but a handful of lesbians gives a hoot about that? I know how many children Karen Mackenzie had on "Knots Landing" (3 biological, 1 step, and 1 adopted). I know who shot JR and who killed Laura Palmer (Kristen and "Bob," respectively). I even know what character on "Days of Our Lives" became possessed by Satan and reeked havoc on the quiet town of Salem (Dr. Marlena Evans). But ask me if I’ve paid my electric bill this month and I couldn’t tell you.

There must be a reason why our memories can be so selective, so lazy. My brain behaves the way I do when I help a friend move. Why pick up the television or computer monitor when I can carry the ice trays? As far as our brains are concerned, it would rather carry something light like the chronological order of every Madonna album than bother lugging around Grandma’s birthday or the name of your boss’ children. I think it’s a survival mechanism. Our brain needs distractions from all that boring or bothersome cr*p we’re forgetting. It’s more fun for our brains to recall the dance steps from Pat Benatar’s "Love Is a Battlefield" video than it is to know how to repair our own computers.

Also, society has made it easy on the lazy brain. Recently, a friend of mine was arrested. Her one phone call at the police station was pointless whereas they’d confiscated her cell phone. She had no one’s phone number memorized to call and come get her. TiVo makes it easy for us to even forget what television shows we enjoy. If you forget that "Nanny 911" is on, it will remember to record it for you to watch at a later time.

So what have we learned today? Well, the next time you forget to remove the tags from a new pair of jeans before stepping out for a night on the town, the reason is that there is something clogging a part of your brain. What’s blocking that ability? Maybe it’s either the lyrics to the "Facts of Life" theme song or an ex-boyfriend’s phone number. If we could only clear our minds of the trivial and pointless facts and memories that we can’t seem to forget, then we would no longer forget things like calling our moms on Mother’s Day or closing the door to our apartments when we leave for work (not that I’ve ever forgotten to do either).