Write Everyday Project #19, Memory of Snowflakes

Alas, that this entry isn't about remembering a specific snowflake or snowfall.  Nor is it a poem, since a poet I am not.  No, this is a complaint that sometimes my memory seems to made out of snowflakes, ones that melt as fast as I touch them.

This was brought on by something that happened a few minutes ago, where between my deciding to open up a new tab to search for something and my actually doing so, I forgot what I wanted to search about.  I actually did recall a minute or so later, I wanted to Google the new report on the value (or perhaps lack thereof) of multi-vitamins, but it was pretty disturbing to bring up a search box and not recall what I wanted to type in it.  That seems to be happening more and more lately.

There are mnemonic tricks to help remember things, of course.  "Thirty days has September, April, June, and November.  All the rest have thirty one, except February which is all fucked up."  That's how I remember it, anyway.  And since it works, I see no reason to go back and learn the correct version.  I've also found that repeating something out loud at least three times in rapid succession can help keep things straight, to say nothing of simply constantly repeating what you need to recall until you don't need it any more.

Nevertheless, I find myself relying more and more on my phone's calendar and address book functions.  I only know two phone numbers, my own and my parents' (and that last has been the same for 36 years), and I'm fuzzy on my own since I've only had it a few months.  I also use my email as a memory bank, keeping things I want to remember to do in my inbox, while cleaning out the rest.  There's a message from the Pritzker Military Library about a program they'll be webcasting on Thrusday that I want to remember to watch, that I've left in my inbox, for instance.

I do have to wonder if this is an age thing or simply a complexity of modern life thing or possibly a "get more sleep you goon thing".  Or possibly all of the above and other stuff besides.  Whatever the cause, it remains an uncomfortable thought that my mind may not be as reliable as once it was.

Now, where'd I put my phone?