Lately, I've been having trouble keeping my mind on task. You realize, "lately" is a broad term - encompassing many many lifetimes. I will be in the middle of doing some Terribly Important Business when it will occur to me in a flash of panic that my nails should be clipped. However, NOT occurring to me is that I should just clip them. Instead, the thought of clipping becomes a sense of suffocation and confusion. "Leave this chair? Now? For the clippers? I don't know if that's such a good idea. After all, I have Terribly Important Business to attend to."
After which, the thought crosses my mind, "Oh. What was I doing? I forget. Something to do with something Terribly..." promptly followed by pulling out the paints and spending the day in acrylic bliss.
As I've mentioned before, when we lost my grandmother, she was struggling with Alzheimer's. I'm very sensitive to the idea that I might also lose my mind. I frequently find myself walking into a room after a train of thought and then wonder why I'm heading in that direction. I'll stand in the middle of my office and look about for something to trigger my original intention. I might stand there for 2 minutes before I realize I was planning on running errands and I returned upstairs to pick up my wallet.
Minds are such fascinating, fragile things. I suspect that it's due to mental clutter that I get so derailed in thought. Going, going, gone.
This is yet another reason why the journals help me. My mad lists. Frantic notes. Reminders. Cheat sheets so I don't have to retain anything for too long.
My other grandmother was also a scribbler. When she left us, dad cleaned up her estate and found piles and piles of notes to herself. In fact, I remember when we'd receive her Christmas presents, there would often be a note taped on the gift, underneath the wrapping, to remind her who to wrap it up for. Her house was littered with her thoughts. My favorite, though it was a commercial magnet on the fridge, was a cow saying, "Holy Cow! Are you eating again?" As a child, I got the joke and felt spiffy.
So the constant notation is therapy, I suppose. Though, I hate to live in messes. So you know what I'm going to do today? I'm going to buy a new journal - a little one, to keep on my desk - to scribble randomness inside of....a place to write down the RGB/CMYK values of my favorite colors...a place to remind myself how long certain wines should be chilled before opening...a place to remember how to set up Pro-Tools for a recording session...a place to remember the name of the funky restaurant we want to try...a place to write down the running list of software I'd like to buy and movies I should rent.
Also, I'm feeling choppy today. As in, the hair must go. When I was a teenager, I once felt so choppy, I pulled it all in a ponytail and whacked it with fabric shears. Before I get that desperate, I must see a hairdresser. It's close to my waist and out of control. But, then, this shearing event has been on my list for about a month now. We'll see if I actually have the nerve.
Or else, I may simply forget.
