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Friday, Mar. 05, 2004 / 9:44 a.m. ~Scary Adventures In Memory Loss, Part II~ I was just trying to activate my new debit card and again, I forgot my PIN, as if once I had the idea of what I thought it was, since I�d suddenly forgotten it in a rush of forgetfulness, which now that I�ve remembered the other time I forgot, when I was much, much younger, I realize is not age-induced at all, that was all I could think it might be. Finally, it popped in my head as I tried to picture my fingers typing it into numerous keypads at numerous locales, numerous stores, around town. I wrote it down, and I know one is not really supposed to do that, it�s not safe, and etc., but I�m scared I�ll forget again, not that there would be no way to find out, but I�m tired of forgetting things, and I�m tired of having so much to remember, constantly, at work with so many forms, so many processes, and at home with needing this and that from the store, running out of things, trying to write it all down, things to do, etc., having notes everywhere, and constantly trying to consolidate all these notes. I�m afraid I�ll forget something else I really do need to remember. And before I forget, let me just say now that �Survivor� is no longer fun. I�m tired of contestants leaving, because they�re weak and tired, or they�re getting psychic visions of their parents dying, or they�re overcome with tortured thoughts of sexual harassment. It�s just no fun anymore. Can we just retire the concept altogether? Call it an early aught aught�s phenom and let it go at that? I�m not only forgetful, I�m so tired. I know I could chalk it up to menstruation, and I often use that as an excuse for everything, because it absolutely is, but I�m just tired in general, tired of my life and the way it currently must be lived. Today I shall find out about the lease renewal, get that part over at least, see if there will be an incentive to stay, like last year, and there should be, and if the monthly rate will increase or if I�m lucky enough to stay at the current for one more year. And then, I really want to think about moving, about changing my life. It�s been too long, it�s just been too long. It�s early, not even 9:30 a.m., cubicle time, and this is looking to be a very long day. I also have a lot to think about with this man, the artist, as he jokes a lot, but I think there is too much truth in everything he says. He joked last night that he wants me to be his �girlfriend�, but it sounded funny, silly, like nothing he would actually say. Then I started wondering if he really does want that, any small or large part of him. And I worried in my wondering. I can�t have anyone wanting anything from me, it makes me feel so uncomfortable, and since we�ve only spoken on the phone, still have never met, I no longer even want to. It�s gotten to that point where it�s too late, it�s beyond that point, that point, whatever and whenever it is, is so far gone we can never get it back. I feel like I only want to be alone, yet I want help in so many areas. With my storage locker, with packing up my things and moving, buying a house, maybe, moving to another state, maybe, buying a new car � it feels like I�m getting so much older, but I don�t know anything about being a grownup, like the time is slipping by and there is no instruction manual, like no one told me how to do all this, there�s no one around to offer assistance, I�m just supposed to know, but this is not inherited wisdom, nor inherent knowledge, this is learned and I�m too tired to research, I want results without work. And I�m tired of working. I long for how things used to be, and that gets no one anywhere, ever. There is no going back, no matter how good it once was, how made in the shade anyone had it, those idyllic Summers at the lake are gone, those early crushes, first kisses, the carefree youth, the time wasted not studying at college, or taking drugs and being stupid, the memory loss from all the marijuana, all of that is gone and there is only the adult responsibility, the grave seriousness of middle age and growing old, the fear of dying alone, the wondering if the cats will die of thirst if �something happens to me� and I don�t make it home, if I drive up to my apartment and see the building on fire, so much to worry about, like too much knowledge of �what could go wrong�. I long for the past and the future is so uncertain. On that depressing note, I think I�ll find some work to do before the real work gets here, or someone will soon come along and ask what I�m doing. Maybe I should go out tonight, let off some steam, release the old steam valve. Where is that thing anyway? (One more scary adventure in memory loss: I came in to work first thing and asked the woman who sits behind me if she heard about the big scare at work yesterday, and she looked aghast� because she was here when it happened, and I should�ve known that � I slinked away from that one, felt so incredibly stupid, and angry at her for making me feel that way, because that is how she is.) Cost of the War in Iraq
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