Getting Smarter, but Getting Dumber

This weekend, I incorrectly identified Quiet Riot when "Cum On Feel the Noize" came on the radio.

If you know me at all, that was mortifying.  I pride myself on my encyclopedic knowledge of rock'n'roll and pop culture in general.  I never lose Trivial Pursuit (except that one time, but they got me absolutely shmammered beforehand to handicap the whole game), I can usually tell you not only who sang a song but what year it came out, and possibly even what the name of the album was.  I am a rock'n'roll idiot savant.  Fortunately, I only said it to my husband - there were no other witnesses.  Of course, now I'm telling you, but there's a point to this.  I am losing vital knowledge that I've had tucked up inside my head for at least a decade or two.

The trade-off is: I can factor the shit out of just about any trinomial you throw at me right now.  I can factor their fucking faces off.

Is this a worthwhile trade-off?  Until May 11th, it is.  Until I finish the very last question on my algebra final, it's just fine with me.

Once, years ago, my grandparents went to the doctor because my grandmother was having difficulty with her memory.  The doctor told her that your memory is like a box: it can only hold so many marbles (memories) at a time.  When you add new marbles, older marbles might be forced out of the box to make room for these new ones.  (My granddad tells this story 100% to get to the punchline, which is: "Doctor, are you telling me my wife is losing her marbles?"  It seemed wrong to tell the story and not give you the punchline, so there it is.)

I have no problem shoving the rock'n'roll marbles out of the box for the moment.  Or memories of the third grade.  I can part with those, too.  Also, lines to movies that are not very funny, and/or are hackneyed or cliched.  Like lines from Top Gun.  I'd like to keep the funny ones, however.  The name of my kindergarten teacher.  That can go.  I would like to remember the dog I had when I was a kid, though, that would be good.  The entirety of the eighth grade.  That was pretty much useless.  Also, all the words to Young MC's "Bust A Move."  (And ZOMG, I just had to Google who sang "Bust A Move."  Please let this semester end so that I can go back to being myself again, full of completely irrelevant trivia.)  Any and all football stats pertaining to the Houston Texans.  Those are worth approximately less than nothing.

Brains should be more like iPods.  Just as I can go into my iPod and realize that I haven't listened to that one Aberfeldy song in the last six months and delete it to make room for the new Allison Krauss , I should be able to go into my memory, realize that the last time I accessed my phone number from my junior year in high school was 1999 and make some room on the hard drive by deleting it.  Anything I haven't thought about since approximately 2001, you're up for possible deletion.  Including my second grade best friend's middle name.  And her address.  And her phone number.  All of which I can tell you right now.  (See?  That line from Pee Wee's Big Adventure that you're thinking of right now?  That can go too.)

I need space for algebra, history, accounting, philosophy, probably some sort of science.  Any and all embarrassing memories can go.  That thing that makes me blush to think about it now, fifteen years later?  Don't remember it.  It never happened.

Instead, with my luck, I'll end up forgetting something important to make room for the new stuff.  Like the PIN for my debit card.  Or my kids' birthdays.  Or the password to my e-mail.  Something that will really affect my daily life.  But while my kids hate me, I can't access my e-mail or get any cash, I'll still be able to sing all the words to "The Humpty Dance."  Don't hate.