Amnesiac

One of the most intresting characteristics of pain is that you can't remember it once it's ended. Similarly, when it is present, you can't remember its absense. The same could be said of love. I consider this an irony of state dependent memory.

I have completely lost my past. It's very strange. I have trouble talking in anything other than present tense.

I know that I *have* a history; I can look at the documentation, or ask Valancy. But my mind slips over events as though they are jellied glass. It's not just that I have no emotional connection to them, it's that they don't exist to me unless I'm actively thinking about them -- which is hard work. I'm going to try to document it anyway, because Valancy tells me it is important.

It started with the events of last Wednesday, spending time with Thomas and Valancy. Thomas, it must be understood, I have loved for fully half of my life. There has always been an inevitable sense of connection, from the time we first met. We can go for years without speaking and not lose the sense of closeness. (Could, rather. Must remember past tense.)

To be frank, I always found that more annoying than romantic. I've never believed in fate, or soulmates, or any of that crap, and I *certainly* don't think someone can fall deeply and truly in love at age eleven. But there is, nevertheless, no other description for it. If you're saying at this point "that's bullshit", know that I agree with you.

On Wednesday, he simply . . . wasn't there. He was any other college boy, dressed in khakis, drinking too much, and talking about life as an angry white male. There were moments, certainly, which hinted that another Thomas *had* existed, like his instrumental use of Godzilla. . . But more often, he viewed Val and I as just another couple of chicks. We could have been anyone, never mind that the three of us had been best friends for aeons. So could he.

If I could think about it, I'd find it terrifying that a person could simply disappear like that.

Obviously, I'm not in love with him anymore, because he doesn't exist now. In a way, as I've said earlier, this is wonderful -- it means I never, ever have to worry about it again.

What's more frightening, when I have the capacity to be frightened, is that I can't recall ever loving him, or ever being in love. With anyone. At least, that's how it started. Within a few days, the amnesia managed to bleed backward until I could only remember two events for which we were both present. Now, it's almost all gone -- not just him, but everything. There's. Nothing. There.

I can't remember being a kid. I can't really remember my parents, or my family, or anything. Hell, I can't remember the beginning of today. I know that there are certain people I like and certain people I dislike, but I couldn't tell you why. I can remember the origin of certain objects and artifacts if someone asks me, but I mostly keep them around because I know that they *should* mean something to me and I hope that maybe they'll trigger something.

It's ridiculous. I shouldn't be reacting like this. Nothing has happened that could cause it; I've received no head trauma and I refuse to believe that my entire psychology can be affected by one idiotic. . . I don't even know. I don't know what caused it. I have to have caused it, and I have to be able to stop it.

Of course, I don't care whether or not I stop it, because I have no attachment to the memories I should be trying to get back, but people tell me it's important and my brain tells me they are trustworthy and not generally self-centered.

The one bright spot in this is that I'm an incredibly good improv actor, and so I can fool most people into thinking I'm still me. And obviously, there are still people and pastimes whose company I enjoy. And, of course, I retain my sense of humor. If that's ever gone, I don't know what I'll do.

And Other Strange Phenomena

Accompanying the amnesia are legion additional symptoms which I failed to mention in my eariler entry:

(1) I have an incredibly upset stomach, to the point where I find it difficult to eat more than a little at a time without feeling violently ill. After a couple of days, this gets old. Valancy suggests I take some medication, but I loathe relying on external cures, especially since I cannot doubt that this is psychosomatic. Moreover, I fear I will become one of those stock characters who always wears a tie and carries around a bottle of pepto bismal like an Irish flask.

(2) I have little to no attention span, which leaves me staring at walls, playing a lot of computer solitaire, and listening to CDs very quickly (ie with my finger on the fast forward button).

(3) I am incredibly irritated by background noise -- the hum of the computer, the clicking of the keys, the rustling of paper, the whirr of the air conditioner. This is why I listen to the music -- to drown it out. I don't enjoy listening to the music either, but at least it's somewhat cohesive.

(4) I seem to have summoned a poltergeist, because things keep flying off of shelves and tables and out of medicine cabinets. So far I have managed to dodge them all, but it's only a matter of time. I should put "superglue" on the grocery list.

(5) I'm sending even more strongly than usual. To illustrate, a scene from yesterday evening:

ROMIE: "Wow, I haven't heard from Joanne in months. Wonder how she's doing."

PHONE RINGS

ROMIE: "Hello?"

JOANNE: "Romie? Wow, I didn't even know this was your number, I just felt compelled to dial it. I haven't talked to you in months. How are you?"

This sort of thing has been happening a lot.

Apparently, though, there is no need to worry, because Dee reassures me that I am evil, which I find oddly comforting.

But I was going to Toche station to pick up some power converters!

Val: Get dressed. We're going to the grocery store.

Me: (whiny) I have to update my virus protection software!

(pause)

Me: God, that's the lamest excuse I've ever offered.

Morality Plays

A conversation over lunch:

Valancy's Mom: " . . . and it really upsets me, you know? Nelson's such a nice guy, but since he's Jewish he won't go to heaven with the rest of us. Isn't that sad?"

Valancy: "Mom, Romie's Taoist and I'm agnostic."

Valancy's Mom: (putting fingers in ears) "La la la la"

Romie: "Also, Jesus was jewish."

Valancy's Mom: "La la la la"

Okay, so that's not *exactly* how the conversation went, but for all intents and purposes, I think mine is an accurate representation.

In my dealings with people, I have one rule and one rule alone: don't fuck with someone else's religion unless you want to start a war. In my experience, it has brought about the fall of more empires than I can count. (Machiavelli, if you must know, agrees with me.)

Of course, I never actually *follow* this rule, but that's only because most people completely misinterpret their own faith, which makes me sad. I want people to be religious and spiritual and mystical, but this preoccupation with vengeance and the afterlife is just a thin disguize for hatred.

Valancy's mom is the angriest, most bitter person I know. She wants to buy a shotgun and live alone in a small cabin in the woods, making marionettes and explosives. She prefers books to people. She is dreadfully afraid to leave her own house. Moreover, she always sneaks in and steals my stash of chocolate. And pita. And odwalla bars. And hummus. (I should really find a better hiding place, but Val is terrified of roaches and insists that I keep everything in the kitchen in a really obvious place. ::glares at Val::)

I like her very much. She knows incredible amounts of history, art, and archaeology, and in the sixties she used to wear orange lipstick and a black wig.

I have contemplated converting her into one of my diciples, for she does make a mean peach cobbler, but I decided that I shouldn't have to be messianic in my own home. It's too much like working overtime.