Sunday, 5 December 2010

Losing My Memory

There’s an old saying, “If your head wasn’t screwed on...” etc. my Bio Memory is so full of years of crap, films, music, people, languages, plants and old TV adverts that got stuck deep in my cerebral cortex as a child, it seemed like a great idea that I could buy Memory on a Stick.

Having access to a Windows run PC a few weeks back I was able to buy my first Stick and download loads of stuff that is “PC only”... I named it “My Memory” which may have been my unconscious telling me I was Riding For A Fall...

This morning I thought I would fish it out as I was planning on using the library PC to do some import/export thing with Second Inventory, a PC only programme. So, I looked through my desk...

Now, there is a particular glazed look that comes over me when I am staring at something that doesn’t quite compute... My Memory wasn’t there.

When did I last have it ?? No idea. [Words of a song come back to me “I know I had it when I came back from that memory enhancement seminar”.]

I could have put it somewhere “safe” and so started that increasingly inane activity called Search. More and more unlikely places get examined until you know you are verging on the desperate.

The second search through the same desk can be excused, after all, I may have missed it in my first incredulous realisation that it wasn’t where it should be... but... the third scramble through the same draws holds a certain lunatic idea that maybe it may have crept back into the draw when I wasn’t looking..or..what?

No, the third search attempt on the same areas must lead to the mental awakening that My Memory now has to be classed as Missing, presumed Lost.

The crazed workings of the brain wonder if some miscreant has crept into my house, past cash, jewellery, electrical appliances and stolen My Memory. But I have to draw the line at looking through the draw for the fourth time, at least for the moment.

I have lost My Memory. It takes a bit of accepting, but it may, or may not, “turn up”. Amazingly in life some things do not turn up. They just get sucked into a vortex of Lost Things where they fester and mould until the end of time. That is apparently a part of life.

So...being in this slightly insane mind set I decided to look for the Xmas lights. They are the only real decorations I like, little neon blue strings which get put up in my front room and look so good I usually don’t remove them til Spring... any bit of colour helps to get through the dark grey season. I had looked for them earlier in the week and they weren’t where they were supposed to be I assumed they were in the loft.

Loft entry entails gymnastic maneuvers befitting a modern circus troupe, and possible muscle damage. It only took me 20 minutes to find the torch.

The Xmas lights weren’t on the loft. ( I say ‘on’ rather than “in” as a remnant of my Norwegian speaking days...a habit I can’t shake).

So, plainly a total waste of a morning..

My conclusion... simple...

My Memory has stolen the lights and is holed up in some dark corner celebrating Yuletide without me.



  1. When all else fails, try the refridgerator.

  2. ...ah that could be where they're hiding from me....

  3. awww, poor Soror :( here's a tip from someone who has done this a lot: get either a neck chain or one of the small "stick wallets;" it's harder to lose them than a single memory stick (I currently use 11 different ones)

    Plus... remember what your mother said (i think they teach this is Mom School): "It's always in the last place you look."

    As for your lights, I think I might have seen them hanging around some shop window...

  4. Miso has come through at UWA, just to let you know. i think your memory was eaten by the Sock Monster who mistook it for a sock.

  5. Ah... yes....that could be it....:)) Yes, congrats to Miso.

  6. I "came through?" Does this mean I... I won't be on the way to the glue factory?!?!?!?

    *falls to her knees, bursting into tears and incoherently mumbling thank-yous and blessings to various goddesses, gods, nature spirits and the ghost of her old 6th grade art teacher, Sister Marcella*

  7. It seems you have been spared, Miso.
    You have been UWA approved,
    ... and Sister Marcella, or her ghost may have played her part in your redemption...