Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

The slippery mind

I have one.

The night before last, as I was writing yesterday’s blog post, I had a great idea for today’s.  It was so good that I debated with myself.  Should I write it instead of the Scissor Fit post?  I decided, no, I would write the Scissor Fit post and save this new idea for another day.

And, you know what happened then, right?

I didn’t write it down.

Aaaaaaaarggggggghhhhh!

The days when I could effortlessly recall every little thing seem to be gone.  I can still recite huge chunks of plays I did in my giddy youth.  There are poems that are permanently lodged in my brain.  But the reason I came into this room two seconds ago. . .not so much.

Now, I’m not saying that I never used to forget things.

It’s a fact that about once every seven years, I would be peacefully sitting at home, about to have a lovely meal I had cooked myself, when the phone would ring and somebody would say, “Where are you?” and I would have to rush out to some important meeting that had completely slipped my mind.  It was always upsetting and embarrassing, but it truly only happened about once every seven years—and almost never after I got my Palm Pilot.  (I still say the Palm Pilot has the best reminder application!)

Nowadays, I rarely have meetings I am supposed to attend, but I do have other things I am planning.  There are things I want to pick up at the store, blog posts I want to write, little tidbits of news I want to tell a friend or relative.  It’s a bit worrisome that they slip my mind more often than they used to do.

I think it’s because I have more time than I used to have.  Few things have to be done today; there’s always tomorrow.  There’s a nice leisurely feel to that—except that I always seem to be busier now than I was in the days when I had a full-time job and rehearsals every night—but it does seem to rust the old steel trap.

I think one of my New Year’s Resolutions might have to be to memorize some monologues or a sonnet or two.

Just to see if I still can.

Roses in December

“God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.”
~J. M. Barrie

Today, I am wondering where my mind went.

I nearly forgot to do this blog post.  How is that possible?  I know I have to do a daily blog post.  I’ve done one, day after day, for months.  Nearly six months now.  And, today, it is only by accident, it seems, that there will be something appearing.

I thought of it several times yesterday.  I had a couple of topics in mind.

And then. . .I forgot.

This is a somewhat disturbing trend.

Definitely something to wonder about—where my mind went.

On the other hand, one could wonder about the equally amazing phenomenon that nearly the first thing I thought of when I awoke—far too early this morning—was OMG! I never did my blog post.

Memory is a strange thing.

An odd tightrope.

Sometimes, it seems like the more you put into it the more it can hold.  When I am very, very busy with multiple projects and hundreds of details, I can often track them like a bloodhound.  When I have less to do, it’s like the old brain goes on a slow boat to Bermuda.

Sometimes, though, when I am very, very busy with multiple projects and hundreds of details, the whole thing springs a leak.  Multiple leaks.  Things start slipping through the cracks, and the cracks—well, they start to resemble the proverbial sieve.  Then, when I have less to do, a single-minded purpose, that one thing can become nearly an obsession.

An odd tightrope.

Some days, you over-balance in one direction; some days, it’s the other.

I’ve always had a really good memory.  It’s a bit disconcerting when this kind of thing happens.  As I get older, too, the occasional missed connection gets more worrying.  Is this a trend? I wonder.

I think I’ll spend part of today learning a poem or something.

Memory is a muscle, too.

And I like roses. . .December or otherwise.

(But first, I’m going back to bed.  Later, ‘gators.)