The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.: Ahh, high school... Too bad I don't remember much of it

5.22.2008:

Ahh, high school... Too bad I don't remember much of it

4:18 PM

Facebook has made it very, very easy for old high school classmates to find me. Not that it was very hard before, seeing as how Google made it pretty easy, but Facebook also invites the notion of communication and "getting back in touch" in a way that simply Googling the name of that doofy football-playing wrestler who hung out in the art room all day doesn't.

Now, it's good to connect with folks from the old days, and I've had fun spinning my gears remembering who is who and all of that. The trouble is... I actually remember VERY little about my high school days that doesn't directly deal with Mike and my core group of friends (at the time), outside of things in my journals and the actual events that happened. Ask me who the girl was that... You know... Puked on my thing, and I can tell you no problem. Ask me what class she had second period the year we went out, or the names of two of her best friends... yeah. Not so much.

The same goes with the vast majority of the faces I barely see through the haze of my memory when I see photos of people who contact me on Facebook. There are a few whom I remember without having to have my memory jogged or referring back to the yearbook / journals, and it's been really cool catching up with those folks. But there's an entire category of people who make up a good 85% of the pie chart of "people I probably should remember, and whose names and faces are balanced precariously on the edge of my memory, but I simply don't recall without help".

It's those people who have been the most interesting to catch up with, actually. Or, in some cases, attempting to get to know.

There have been a few who understood completely and, after a few attempts to jog my memory ( "remember the time you let those crickets loose in the library? i was the girl who laughed and didn't tell on you" and "remember the time you fell through the roof of the front lobby while trying to put the security guard's golf cart on top of the building? I was the kid you landed on" and other notable snippets from my life), I've recalled and we laughed and life was good.

But there's also been a few folks who took GREAT offense when I attempted to recall who they were. They couldn't believe I'd forget them, or they think I'm being coy (and in one case, was trying to "Play like [I] am famous now" which is as close to hilarious as you can possibly get with me, seeing as how I'm sitting here eating Fruity Pebbles at 4:30PM in my Red Bull shorts and a ratty old Hanes t-shirt covered in paint splotches, actively ignoring alerts reminding me to do the work I have to do so I can actually afford to pay my house note this month).

And I feel bad about it, for all of a minute or so, until I read lines like "You think you're so high and mighty - put this in your book, you fucking asshole."

Really? Is that necessary?

I mean... Come on.

I remember things. I remember words and pictures and events. I remember them in excruciating detail. It's just how my brain works.

But I don't remember anything or anyone that doesn't have an event or situation "tagged" to them. When you're not directly involved in something I've done or have had happen to me, I'm sorry - I just don't remember it. The same is also true of every other thing on the planet for me... I don't remember the names of stores I walked into and bought nothing inside, because there was nothing of note for me to buy. So it doesn't trigger the "remember me" thing in my head.

I don't remember the titles of comic books I read once (or read through enough to know I didn't like it) because it made no impact. The same with books, movies, tv, and - yes - people.

My brain is just that way. It simply doesn't latch on to things that don't trigger the "remember me" stimulus. I'm sorry that that might hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that my attempt to circumvent that issue by asking you about how we know each other offended you. But I'm not sorry about how my brain works... It's not like I can help it.

But you can bet I remember you now.

Labels: Joe's life, memories, whiny bullshit

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The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.

5.22.2008:

Ahh, high school... Too bad I don't remember much of it

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