my stupid brain won't forget that it's Chris Kirkpatrick's birthday today.
It happened again. October 17th, and what am I doing? Why, the same thing I’m always doing on October 17th, mon chéri: I’m thinking about how it’s Chris Kirkpatrick’s birthday.
Chris Kirkpatrick doesn’t mean anything to me in particular. He probly clocks in dead last on the ‘Big 10’ list of boy band members. But my brain has a glitch where it remembers every single birthday of everybody I’ve ever met, and lots of people I haven’t met too. If you were in second grade with me and you brought cupcakes on your birthday, congratulations, I remember your birthday forever now.
You might think that sounds like a fun, cool, helpful feature - it’s not. It’s a burden and a nuisance and a drain on resources. Of course it’s nice to wish friends and family members happy birthday, but this could be easily accomplished by writing them down or keeping them on a calendar.
I know brains don’t work this way, but I can’t help but feel like it’s just a ton of space I could be using for something else. I know it couldn’t be as big as, like, finally understanding why the government can’t prevent a recession by just printing more money (“If there are more $20 bills, $20 bills lose their value” - ummm, okay, so just say they’re still worth $20? You’re the government? Literally we made money up??????). But I do feel like my birthday memory could be cashed in for something more reasonable, like a better sense of direction. Mine is piss poor, and even if it couldn’t be great, I’d love to apply the birthday memory to it like it’s a gift card that won’t cover the whole cost. Is it worth a 20% improvement in directional capability? I’ll take it.
There just doesn’t seem to be a way out of remembering every goddamn year on October 17th that it’s Chris goddamn Kirkpatrick’s birthday. I don’t even remember learning this information; I’m pretty sure I was born with it already installed in my brain. It could have something to do with the fact that my own birthday is in three days. When you’re a kid you don’t know that many people, so it feels exciting and significant to meet anyone whose birthday is within, like, two months of yours in either direction. Three days apart? We’re literally twins from the same mother, we’ve known each other in one thousand past lives, we were made from the same stardust. I guess that’s why my brain holds such a tight grip on this information, though it doesn’t really explain why I remember that AJ McLean’s birthday is January 9th, or that Jenny Chiang’s birthday was April 11th. Is April 11th - hope you’re well, Jenny Chiang, you had really neat handwriting. (Do you see what a plague this is???)
Like most of my other problems, a lobotomy seems to be the only way out. I’m down. If you know of any clinical trials experimenting with Eternal Sunshine-type technology, please send them my way. I’ll literally do anything for a $25 gift card. In the meantime, happy birthday, Chris Kirkpatrick. You don’t deserve how mad I am about remembering your birthday.
