Growing up, I did well in elementary, middle and high school, mostly in part to my excellent memorization skills.
I’m not sure if I ever actually learned anything, but I could recite the Preamble to the Constitution, the state capitals, several scenes from “Romeo and Juliet” and the entire rap to “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air” – all without blinking.
These skills carried on into early college, as I did well in history classes by memorizing names or dates, like the invention of PEZ candy in 1927.
Yet as a near college graduate, I find myself in memory hell.
My short-term memory that served me so well all those years is gone. I’m determined I am the first 21-year-old with Alzheimer’s.
In recent weeks, I have found myself having casual dinner with friends, only to get a phone call from an angry classmate asking why I missed our study session.
I forget about upcoming meetings and appointments. I’m constantly making lists, but forgetting what’s on them, or even where I put them.
Last week, for example, I was so proud of myself that I remembered to stop at the store to pick up toilet paper on my way home – two-ply.
My cell rang while I was grabbing a buggy, and my roommate asked me to pick something up for her at the store.
I happily obliged, as I proceeded to stop at the frozen food aisle after picking up the toilet paper.
I managed to raid the entire aisle, getting every variety of Hot Pockets known to man.
As I was cramming the entire freezer section into my trunk, the word “yogurt” scooped into my head.
Embarrassed, I ran back into the store to grab the lone item my roommate requested.
The next day, my heart skipped a beat when I showed up for Spanish class and a friend said “You ready for the quiz?”
I’m pretty sure I made up some stuff about the conquest of Peru.
So maybe forgetting the grocery list or a simple Spanish quiz isn’t that traumatic, but I fear things are getting more serious.
As I write this, my family is waiting at home for me. Today is my sister’s ninth birthday – if I had remembered, I could have made plans to get home on time.
I have dreams about missing my own graduation because I forgot.
My friends and family continually call me to remind me to do everyday tasks – “Take out the garbage,” “Pay the bills,” “Pick a major.”
I’m sure everyone I know has a theory about what’s causing this geriatric coma.
My dad would be convinced it’s stress, and my mom would think I’m not eating right.
My friends would say I need to get organized.
But my inner hypochondriac thinks this is the beginning of a Memento-type disorder, and it’s only a matter of time before I’m tattooing “Water the plants” on my left shoulder.
All the usual organization methods seemed to have failed me.
I’m out of sticky notes, the string-around-the-finger thing never worked for me and I don’t remember if I have Outlook Express on my computer.
In fact, you’re reading this entirely pointless column because, yes, I forgot I had to write a column for today.
I cannot think of any more examples because I forgot the rest.
So I’ll just continue to hope that I don’t end up in my car, with the keys in the ignition, wondering where I’m going.
Until then, I think there was somewhere I had to be …