There's this line in Eminem's "Not Afraid" that I find particularly clever: "like a f*ck you for Christmas, his gift is a curse." I'm not the biggest fan of the song as a whole, but every time I hear that one line, I end up with a grin on my face. Unfortunately, though, I think I know a little bit about how that feels.
See, I have a fairly good memory. It's not a photographic memory or anything, since I can and do remember things incorrectly with hilariously bad results. Still, I've found that on average, I can remember details that other people can't. Most of the time, this is a good thing. I remember most of my friends' birthdays off the top of my head, for example. As a result, I can take advantage of information I processed long ago in order to adapt to the current situation. Like I said, this is a good thing.
Then again, I also said that this is mostly a good thing. There is a dark, dark underbelly to this ability. On the most basic level, it can annoy everyone involved. If I absentmindedly repeat a couple of lines of dialogue while someone else is around, other people in earshot might express a mixture of surprise and annoyance (side note: this leads to some interesting guttural sounds and sighs). I have learned to quickly stop when this happens, but it's just one of those quirky little things that I have to watch out for. On the flip side of the annoyance coin, I might remember that someone said we'd hang out, even though that person forgot. I'd guess that this happens something like half the time. I don't usually get mad about it, though there have been a few cases where this has led to spectacular disagreements (Mild Ex'es figure prominently here).
Still, I have to say that the worst part about all of this is that this kind of recall lends itself very easily to people making assumptions about me. For example, I remember one time when a different friend was making fun of a song on Facebook. She happened to hear it on the radio, but she didn't know which artist sung the song, so she ended the post with something like, "who sings this rubbish?" Well, I had heard it on the radio that day, as well, so I recognized it as Keri Hilson's "Pretty Girl Rock." Me being me, my inner monologue went a little something like this:
"Oh! I know that one!"
"Well, she did ask, so let's tell her."
"Okay, [Facebook friend], here's the information you were looking for. You can thank me later."
The reaction, as you can probably guess, was more along the lines of, "wait, how the heck do you know that? Do you like this kind of super sugary pop music? Are you a teeny bopper?" No. Hell no. At this point, I suddenly regretted being helpful. Stupid memory.
Even worse, I have a friend who I used to talk to on AIM a long, long time ago (that product is effectively dead now, to give you an idea of how long ago this was). She used her birthday as part of her screen name, to differentiate herself from the thousands of other people with a similar first name and last name. And as it happened, I remembered both this fact and her actual screen name. So, I knew when her birthday was when it came up in conversation recently. She actually asked me, "wait, how do you know that?" I didn't blame her, and I had to explain myself. Luckily, she didn't immediately assume I was a stalker, but I could almost see that seed of doubt beginning to form in her head. This memory thing can be dangerous, I tell you.
Just to recap, by this point, my memory had made me out to be a stalker with a penchant for teenybopper music. You know that old phrase "ignorance is bliss?" Let's just say that I can remember a few times where that phrase seemed apropos.
See, I have a fairly good memory. It's not a photographic memory or anything, since I can and do remember things incorrectly with hilariously bad results. Still, I've found that on average, I can remember details that other people can't. Most of the time, this is a good thing. I remember most of my friends' birthdays off the top of my head, for example. As a result, I can take advantage of information I processed long ago in order to adapt to the current situation. Like I said, this is a good thing.
Then again, I also said that this is mostly a good thing. There is a dark, dark underbelly to this ability. On the most basic level, it can annoy everyone involved. If I absentmindedly repeat a couple of lines of dialogue while someone else is around, other people in earshot might express a mixture of surprise and annoyance (side note: this leads to some interesting guttural sounds and sighs). I have learned to quickly stop when this happens, but it's just one of those quirky little things that I have to watch out for. On the flip side of the annoyance coin, I might remember that someone said we'd hang out, even though that person forgot. I'd guess that this happens something like half the time. I don't usually get mad about it, though there have been a few cases where this has led to spectacular disagreements (Mild Ex'es figure prominently here).
Still, I have to say that the worst part about all of this is that this kind of recall lends itself very easily to people making assumptions about me. For example, I remember one time when a different friend was making fun of a song on Facebook. She happened to hear it on the radio, but she didn't know which artist sung the song, so she ended the post with something like, "who sings this rubbish?" Well, I had heard it on the radio that day, as well, so I recognized it as Keri Hilson's "Pretty Girl Rock." Me being me, my inner monologue went a little something like this:
"Oh! I know that one!"
"Well, she did ask, so let's tell her."
"Okay, [Facebook friend], here's the information you were looking for. You can thank me later."
The reaction, as you can probably guess, was more along the lines of, "wait, how the heck do you know that? Do you like this kind of super sugary pop music? Are you a teeny bopper?" No. Hell no. At this point, I suddenly regretted being helpful. Stupid memory.
Even worse, I have a friend who I used to talk to on AIM a long, long time ago (that product is effectively dead now, to give you an idea of how long ago this was). She used her birthday as part of her screen name, to differentiate herself from the thousands of other people with a similar first name and last name. And as it happened, I remembered both this fact and her actual screen name. So, I knew when her birthday was when it came up in conversation recently. She actually asked me, "wait, how do you know that?" I didn't blame her, and I had to explain myself. Luckily, she didn't immediately assume I was a stalker, but I could almost see that seed of doubt beginning to form in her head. This memory thing can be dangerous, I tell you.
Just to recap, by this point, my memory had made me out to be a stalker with a penchant for teenybopper music. You know that old phrase "ignorance is bliss?" Let's just say that I can remember a few times where that phrase seemed apropos.
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