Everyone Looks So Familiar!

Barbara: Okay, it wasn’t so long ago that I was bemoaning the fact that I have a hard time remembering people. I am a “people person” and not remembering people kinda defeats the purpose, no? And yes, I do take small comfort in the fact that most people have this same problem.

Of course, we’ve all found a myriad of ways to cope with this conundrum. There’s the trusty party trick where two friends play each other’s wingmen: Friend 1, “I know I’m supposed to know her, but can’t for the life of me remember how I know her or what her name is.” Friend 2, “No problem, I’ll introduce myself and get all the stats.” There’s also the “ignore the person until I can place him/her” solution. Or the “fake your way through the convo” option, just smile and say benign things that don’t betray your ignorance.

Okay, a whole blog post could be written about this. But here’s the thing: lately friggin’ everyone looks familiar to me!! I’m walking through the garden centre and have to hold myself back from shouting a hearty hello to every Tom, Dick and Sherri. I’m at a party and find myself in disorienting conversations with one person after another: “Oh, where did we meet? I just know we know each other. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Were you at the (fill in the blank)? No? Are you friends with (fill in the blank)? No? Well, didn’t we chat about the (fill in the blank)? No, no, and always no.

The truth is: I DON’T know them. We’ve never met. And we have nothing in common. Well, that last part is an exaggeration because ironically my maniacal efforts to remember imaginary connections often results in … interesting new connections!

But why does everyone look so damn familiar??? Is it that I’ve lived long enough now that I might in fact have randomly bumped into this person somewhere in the past? Is it that I’ve lived so long now that many facial traits have imbedded themselves in my brain and I’m actually seeing everyone’s doppelgangers? Is it that I’ve … lived soooo long???

Deb: A few years back, the boy gave me a button that said, “Don’t feel bad, I don’t know your name either”. I really should wear it every day. In a way, I have made my peace with this because it seems that a good deal of the world is in the same boat. Even the boy at his young age struggles with this. I read something interesting that said the reason we don’t remember names is that we have too many numbers in our heads. And numbers trump names.

Barb, the fact that people look familiar to you (happens to me too!) is that there are only so many different facial configurations in the world, right? Or it could be past lives and the people you met there! I have found a foolproof way to cope however. Instead of those pesky old individual names, everyone becomes “sweetie”, “darling”, or “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy”! Now I know that most people are on to this ruse, but I say, Who cares? I mean, after all, who would balk at being called sweetie?


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Quick, My Car Needs To Be Somewhere!

Deb: My car has a very busy life. In addition to taking me safely thither and yon, it has its own agenda. I can’t believe it has time to fit extra chores in, what with my packed schedule, but clearly it does. Or at least, it tries.

I was on my way to the Danforth the other day (which is a neighbourhood in midtown Toronto), but it turns out––without consulting me, mind you––my car had another appointment downtown. So off we went. Just as my car was getting to her destination, I realized that I was going to be late for my appointment so I made a u-turn and doubled back. Yeah, I feel bad about it, but what are you going to do? I hate to pull rank on my car, but I am kinda the boss. I guess because I didn’t pay cash, my car thinks she has the right to do her own thing. Maybe she’ll stop making her own frivolous plans when I have her paid off. But for the time being, she’s a gal on the go.

I cannot tell you how many times we get somewhere and I slam on the breaks and say, “Where the hell am I?” My car’s not telling.  She does it on a whim.

I have talked to friends and they say that this has happened to them … this, this, this usurpage of power, this mind-screwing-“hood” trip. They, too, have found themselves late and confused, asking the same damn question, “Where the hell am I?” Lately, it’s a good month if my car doesn’t go off halfcocked at least once. But even on the good days, I know she’s making plans, we’re not fooling each other. At the end of the day when I’m heading up to bed, I can see her sitting there bathed in streetlight, plotting our next detour.

Where are we off to next, I wonder, and how long will it take me to notice this time? God only knows.

Barbara: Ack!! I had no idea where you were going with this, Deb, until about halfway through … and then the lightbulb went off!!

THIS HAS HAPPENED TO ME!!!

It is the weirdest phenomenon. La-di-da, all happily driving along, then, oops, totally wrong side of town (and let me tell you, folks, in a city the size of Toronto, these car-propelled detours are no small inconvenience). At least now I know who to blame. It’s my car, gosh-dangit. And she has a mission of her own.

Okay, Deb, next time this happens, I will calmly pet her soft little dashboard for her silly shenanigans rather than smashing my head repeatedly against the steering wheel! 

Black Hole

Barbara: A couple of weeks ago, the strangest thing happened to me. Deb and I were chatting and she mentioned that she was working with a colleague of mine. I was delighted and surprised to hear the news and told her as much. Deb stopped––I’ll never forget her expression: one of disbelief mixed with a kind of abject sorrow––and she said, very kindly and gently, “Barb, your mind is like a steel-trap, that’s how I think of you. But I’ve told you this news three times and you’re surprised every time I tell you.”

Oh my god. I mean, really? I was devastated. Not by her words, of course, but by the shocking slap in the face of my own brain’s sudden unreliability!!! Okay, I’m used to having extraneous information maybe come and go, but pertinent, delightful, and interesting news that has a deep connection to my own stuff??? Has my brain become riddled with Black Holes into which the most important parts of my life will inevitably get sucked, leaving only random inconsequential details like when Deb is getting her oil changed, or when my sister’s husband’s mother is going for tea with her girlfriends????!!

Deb:  Barb, even your blondest moment is air-tight and ON IT!  And FYI, I found the tin foil in the fridge this morning ... there by the grace of God go I.

Barbara: Thanks for the vote of confidence, Deb. Gotta say—the tin foil in the fridge did make me feel better.

Oh, and just started reading this book in the hopes it might help me. My good friend, Angie, gave it to me for Christmas, but I, um, kept forgetting to read it….