Memories....Escape the Corners of My Mind

Who is this girl?

The one who sent a friend request on Facebook?

When the notification came that so and so wanted to be friends with me, I figured it was one of those errant mistakes.  Like, she mistook my Capital High for another.  I figure there's got to be at least fifty high schools with that name, right?

For some reason (I like to think because I'm tender hearted and outright rejecting her offer seemed cruel), I neither accepted nor declined.  Instead, I waited.

Sure enough, she is adding friends and they are people I know.  People from high school.  Today, I dug out the old Class of '93 Yearbook to see if I could find any mention of her.

None.

My guess is that she went to school with my class at some point but did not graduate with us.

In any case, I can't place her.  I have no memories of this girl.  Even more troubling, as I looked through the yearbook, was how many other students I shared hallway and classroom space for four years that look equally foreign.

I've noticed it before.  How names escape me.  In a conversation with someone awhile back, I could only remember two of my high school English teachers:  one teaching my Freshman year and the other my Senior year (who I only remember because she was really, really bad.  Horrible, really).

I can't remember the last names of most of my roommates at BYU.  My sophomore year?  I can't even remember their first names.

I can't remember the name of the building next to the testing center at BYU.  The one where the artists hung out.  It's been bugging me for weeks.  That and the name of the Engineering Building.

I can't remember the names of some of the boys I dated before Jay.  Even ones I kissed.

I can't remember the names of several of the women who I served with in Primary presidencies.     Women who I spent a lot of time with and remember being pretty close to at the time.  How's that for bonding?

It goes on, but it's embarrassing.  What is wrong with me?

Do I not care enough to remember or is my memory that bad?  Do I need to be doing more Sudoku or eating more fish?  Taking Ginko Baloba?  Is that its name?  See?  I can't even remember that.

I don't know how the people with 300-plus friends on Facebook do it.  Keep track of them all, I mean.  What is the point of having experiences or making friends if you can't remember them?

Blogging helps.  I look back at posts and remember.  But, as these September snippets have taught me, it's much more interesting to write about a part of your day instead of it whole.  So, twenty-three and a half hours of each day might just become lost to me.   At least now I'll be able to look back and remember the time that I realized I can't remember anything.

Poetic.  Almost.