For the longest time, I wondered what my issue was. I claimed it to bad memory, but the logic of the matter is I remember way too many things for it to be bad memory. I based the ending of many of my past potential relationships on the fact, that if I did not "think" of things, or think to come up with stuff, that I wanted nothing to do with the relationship. I did not want to deal with the day to day pressures of where you hear the women fly off the handle because the man did not remember a specific day. I always thought that self-absorbing of the woman to do. Note, I say women because it is extremely rare for your average guy to get pissed off for forgetting about something because he feels, "He is not being appreciated."
What added to this, was that I did not ever feel I made an excuse for my actions. I was not like, "Well, I forget things, so just deal with it," and thus I would forget things because I was giving in to my self-fulfilling prophecy. I did one thing that I did not want to do. I decided to go seek help. I did it in the form of a shrink (so yeah, for the record, I have been in actual therapy before). That did not go well, I cannot even remember the reason. At around the same time, I was also seeing a counselor (via Grand View college). I think seeing this woman in action, who I was not (directly) paying money to had something to do with my feelings towards the head shrinker. She did a great job in making me feel better about myself. The good feelings, however, did not correct the overlying problem.
I remember in my psychology class, one of the greatest psychological minds I ever met, Dr Evans, would have us get into groups and "evaluate" the other person. Anyone who has had deep chat with me, where I seemed somewhat professional (meaning not getting emotionally involved, screaming, yelling, etc), well that pretty much what this class was for. This is the type of class that any psychologist would have to go through. Well, in one of the one on one sessions, I sat with Dr Evans and "told him my problems," He did not hold back, but unfortunately, I do not remember what he said. This was ages ago, and I only remember me enjoying being around him. In fact, I brought my laptop to class and would record some of his lectures. Still, it appeared I was not any closer to my qwest to figure out how to take care of whatever was wrong with me.
So, from that time, more potential relationships came and went. Not everything was ended on the basis of this important aspect. Obviously, I have issues with honesty, the issue being I require honesty and being able to trust the person I am with. The relationship with Starr was not affected by the main point of my story. I guess my inclusion of her is due to my "unresolved issues" problem, a psychological aspect where we have issues in life due to things left untied. Imagine you have a relationship where it ends, and there were some things you would have liked to close. You might find yourself reminded of this person or situation. For example, I hear "Layla", and I immediately think of Starr. Then, a rush of everything happens. See, one day when I had her over at a friend's house, she ended up getting his number, and ended up fucking him a few times after. It was in a chat about a month or so later that this information somehow came up, and it only did so due to questions on my side. From that, more questions, and of course, lying. I asked if a condom was used, of which I was told there was, and after me going out and doing research (like I was writing a damn term paper), I found it to be a lie. Anyone who knows me well knows what something like this does to my mind. Needless to say, things drifted between the both of us.
Well, in an extremely strange twist of a movie plot that someone could only write, many years later, when I decided to finish up my college degree(s), who would I find in my psychology class taught by the other greatest psychological mind I have ever known (Jim Hanson) than Starr.
A quick and important note on Jim. He was the teacher of my psych101 class I would have taken the first semester of first year of college, in 1993. At that time, I knew I enjoyed computers and wanted to pursue a field in it. I otherwise was confused about this college thing. Well, after the brilliant teachings of Jim, I realized I wanted to really study the human mind. Yes, ladies and gents, it was this class that molded the very foundation of what is Maddness. Anything you love about who I am as a person, you can thank this man. Teachers can make a subject boring and you do not care to continue on its studies, or teachers can be Jim... standing next to his desk as all the students start to come in... taking what appears to be a white ball and passing it back and forth between his hands... watching the rest of his students come in... starting class with his lecture, still passing this white ball between his hands... walking around doing so... talking more... making the students wonder, "WTF is up with this white ball?" Then, asking a student to put out her hand, putting the ball in her hand, and everyone watching it melt into her hand going all over. The lecture had been talking about, and working more into, "perception". Oh, and despite what he thinks, during that one time when he had something written on the board and talked about how he could get anyone to come up and erase it, I did not fall for that trick :p I had something valid I wanted to show (some time, someone ask to talk about "No Known Solution", the story of NKS).
Anyway, there she was, in the class I was looking forward to most that year. I only had nine credits left (and had for many years), so it was not like I had a bunch of classes, but Grand View is a small school, and I was "coming out of retirement", so to find her there... well... it was something I took a step back from for a moment. As is true of a lot of my past, I do not remember a lot of what happened back then. I remember going to Perkins at one point with her during lunch, and we both realized the change in each other (or maybe that was noted to the other?). I otherwise cannot really remember much of the year. Oh! Yeah, I stand corrected, I had that dreadful depression and was crying and upset for a while, and wrote about it. It would have been a public entry, related to school, and was either about God or my views on honesty. I remember I was [we were] to write something down in this social psychology type class, and then look at it, and then attempt to come to the realization that the opposite was true. So I either had to look at the opposite of God being the most important thing in my life, or look at the opposite of honesty being the most important aspect of my life. I did, and it did not go well in my head.
Oh yeah, one other thing I remember was a call from Starr (this is facetious as this is where the "not remembering thing" was originally meant to go). See, to this day, I have my... third dead Mousis cryogenically in statis (some time, someone ask to talk about "Army of Mousis", interesting stories of GVC and my first psychotic pet while living on my own). Well, one potential mousis was going to be one Starr had. It had something, a cancer or lump growing on it, and at some point when asked for it I said I did not want it. Keep in mind, I was on Mousis #3. I was doing something wrong. So some point shortly after the decline, the bump thing exploded or something, and the mousis died. When talking on the phone as she was at work, the mousis came up in conversation, and the lines, somewhere along the lines of, "well the decline of you taking him was a good indication that the relationship was not meant to be," What a wonderful way to rationalize the fact you slept with my friend, I had to bring that info out of you months later, and then lied about condom use. See, I have a thing when people continuously do not take responsibility for things, and that comment forevermore angered me. That is all it was... her not wanting to take responsibility for the reason we did not hook up.
Oh, I was no treasure trove, don't get me wrong. While I do not remember the actual event, one time talking to her at BJ, I was reminded of an incident when I said if she would not pee in front of me, there was no need for us to be in a relationship, "because your friend pissed in front of me". For the record, the friend in question was drunk, and I was "stuck" in the bathroom from doing double shots of tekillya and soco through the night.
So yeah, long detour story about stuff, but of course I want to make sure you are getting your money's worth. (it should be noted an extremely important research has been done at this specific time, 19:30 CST 080215, whereas this entry started February 15, 2008, 10:21. despite this being the case, the rest of this post is going to move on as it was intended before this research was done to my best ability... for further information someone ask to talk about "Roll Playing vs. Role Playing"). Taking over 12 hours to get back to this causes issues with understanding where I came from, but I think that part of the problem of the subject of this entry in the first place. (Despite my loved use of Modzilla to correct my spelling and such, from this point on, I am not correcting any errors that are made in spelling or grammer, to prove a point later... keep in mind, everything that I type is believed to be the proper way to spell or speak my mind, not done on actual purpose... this makes sense as it continues).
Okay, back to the story at hand, closing up Starr, that deals with an important aspect of my life, a Gestalt psychological process known as "unfinished business". Anyone who studies the different schools of psychology, would come across Gestalt and his existential aspects of psychology. Anyone familiar with this knows that unfinished business will cause a psychological dissonence in the mind, and anyone familiar with dissonence realized how that could impact cognition (anyone note familiar with Gestalt psychology should ask me to talk about "It's all Histalt"). So I think I am done with that story. Who knows, probably not.
So, very jumping back, paragraph two, the going in for "help", well, because that trick did not work, I decided to attempt a different route, one not legal. I had heard, and in rare instances seen, what tweekers can do (see also "Army of Mousis", and some time, someone ask to talk about, "A Tweeker Ate my Pad"). I decided I would take that route, and tried meth. For all not familiar, the drugs of my life have been from pot, to acid, to meth. Pot I have done the most, with acid in second, and then meth. As there is a possibility I have done other drugs (of non-legal kind), I would not rule this out, however, know if I think of it, I will tell someone. Well, I will tell all of you. So tweek it was. The time line is stuck in my head like no other, it will always be there, just like my first real acid trip (some time, someone ask to talk about "Acidic Girlfriend"), or a varity of acid trips, of which I remember all major ones, (some time, someone ask to talk about "The Mothership *is* Coming", "Cops Changed my Stash, Man", or "Rain in the Tornado").
I was with Mr Chance. I rememeber that as clear as day. I was also with Juan. There might have been others, but I do not remember who they are. We started Tuesday night, and I ended Saturday morning. For all those not familiar with how this works, it translates to I would have slept on Monday night / Tuesday morning, and then stayed up until Saturday morning / Friday night. The goal: clean my pad. As one thing of tweek will not last the average user, even new, for that many days, I ended up doing... 1... 2... possibly three times. I first cooked a rail (putting on foil and burning it, then inhaling it), and then I snorted a rail, and... eh, mind is kinda fuzzy I guess. Maybe I did do it four times, I do not remember. Well, the goal failed, but I will say, I got a LOT of final Fantasy VII time in. I also got the strange feeling of not ever sleeping, and that it does to you. I showered each morning, and when I did, it felt like I could feel my bones through my face. It was like all of the fat was sucked out. It was the strangest, and not happy, feeling that I could experience. It was not horrible, and it was not like I was tripping out bad. Just strange, and not in a cool way. Well, come Friday night, I am over at Myles' house, in the back yard inside someone's car shmoking up. Man we had a lot of people in that car. When I looked out the car windshield and say the door of the back house levetating and moving, that is when I decided it was time to go home and get some sleep. hEhEhE!! What a strange thing to see... looking at a door, and noticing it move. Now, to give an example to anyone not familiar with this process, look at an LED arlarm clock and then bite down on an electric toothbrush (or stick your phone in your mouth on vibrate and have someone call you, that might be similar). That strange movement you see, slow it down a little bit, and then increase the space it takes up, and you have an idea of what was happening. I had said I did not ever want to do this drug, and here I was doing it. Why? So I could attempt to "reboot" my head and do what I wanted to do, clean. Motivation.
So a lot of time passed, at least from paragraph thirteen to this one (um, the last one for those not counting). I now take you to... oh wait, scratch that. I take you to one other time, and I cannot remember when it was, I only remember what it was about. At some point, maybe the head shrinker, yeah, it was him, I ended up taking something. It might have been for depression (and for the record of time frame, I can state I had broken up with... correction, I was broken up on by Panda, so go back into my history, I was working at Wal-Mart, of which my tenur was 6-26-96 to 10-10-99). It was something that started with a Z, like Zytech or something. I decided to also take this drug, however, I think it is for something totally unrealated to the title of this entry, so I think I am confusing myself and going to move on). So *now*, a lot of time passed, at least from paragraph thirteen to this one. I am... what was I doing. I was working at Qwest. Oh dear word, I have this part documented, so I can look it up. 060117 - 060124, I started on medication known as Strattera. I started with 40MG. See, at this point, talking to my current doctor, if I was to have myself "checked" into, psychologically, it was going to take about $1000 out of pocket, as my insurance was not going to cover whatever in the world they were going to do. This was just to look at me, so, yeah, we decided to
Well, jumping ahead even more as it is close to 1:00 080216.6x, a little time ago, a coworker stopped me as I was walking by her. Teresa/Q, single, mother of two, bad car injury at some point in her life. She had pain and some problems. She started talking to me about a conversation we had (so I believe, as I do not remember it), and how she realized some of the issues I have had (which I do not remember telling her) were similar to some of her issues, and a break through revolation that I have had my head wrapped on over sense. In her doctor sessions, they determined that she had memory issues related to her dyslexia. Now, I think what I had talked to her, as I have talked to a lot of people about it, is my dyslexia. Well, turns out there is much more to this than I realized. People with dyslexia have problems processing infomration into short term memory. This fit my bill, it made sense (please note, my comment where I wanted to point out in paragraph ten "[it should be noted an extremely important research has been done at this specific time, 19:30 CST 080215, whereas this entry started February 15, 2008, 10:21. despite this being the case, the rest of this post is going to move on as it was intended before this research was done to my best ability... for further information someone ask to talk about "Roll Playing vs. Role Playing"]" now comes more into play, but only regarding the fact this is the first time I have researched the topic, as there is a deeper look into the research I will get into later, "Madd Memory: How My Memory Does not Suck"). I was not sure what the connection was at the time, but I do know that I started thinking about it a lot.
Second to last paragraph for this entry! So come today (technically yesterday now), I had a fight with Jen. Most people can relate to this part of the fight, when someone feels as if the other one does not care because of what they forget. Now, for this to REALLY make sense, you have to realize the researched part of my story (and for anyone who has yet to figure out the title of this entry by now, attempt to read it backwards) has yet to come, and is in the second part of an entry ("Madd Memory..."), but the key trigger is that the fight, which switched me into a certain type of mood, for some reason had me go online and attempt to pull up some information on what Teresa/Q had talked to me about. I wanted to find out more about what I might have been searching for almost all of my known life. Everyone seems to want to know who they are... I want to know how I are (this one was on purpose).
So the moral of this entry is simple, and I hope all human beings end up getting this entry indexed and ranked as the number one search entry on google, yahoo, and everywhere else: just because someone forgets something, it does not mean they care any less for you.