You Never Learn Less

You just get older, and can’t remember all of it.

“I’ve put so much information into the front of my brain, that stuff has started falling out the back,”

George Carlin

My friend said, “I know a little bit about a lot of things.”

I answered, “I know a lot, about a lot of things, I just can’t remember any of it.”

This is most apparent when I sit down to write. All the big, two-bit words that only my sisters and I bandy back and forth, because we grew up in chaos and sought refuge in books, run right out of my brain. Or fall out the back, as George Carlin would have it. I need a brain broom.

On top of that, as I happily trip the light fantastic of deep discussions, making eloquent points, the exact word I need to describe a mind blowing experience simply refuses to reveal itself to my overloaded brain, much less agree to come off my tongue. I’m left floundering for the word, while my opponent, I mean conversation partner, jumps in and then down the rabbit hole. Like Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit, I’m late to the party.

Now, this isn’t really just an age thing. Don’t we all experience forgetfulness? Of course. It just seems to happen more often once we pass a certain milestone.

I’m convinced that’s because George Carlin was right. I’m a life-time learner, and a constant reader. Where does the brain store all of it? ( I know, it’s the hippocampus). Of course, we don’t know everything about the brain. It could still surprise us. Maybe someday we’ll be able to access the part of the brain that stores memories by scanning it with a smartphone, and they’ll all come flooding out. And not in the way George Carlin meant.

I do have a nearly eidetic memory for conversations. Maybe that’s why I’m single. Husbands and boyfriends really hate this about me. But it’s a huge help in my psychotherapy practice.

What I don’t understand is why I don’t have the same power of memory for everything else. I think it’s self-sabotage, not age.

For instance, a year ago I created a place for everything and put everything in its place. So why do I put stuff somewhere it doesn’t belong, and think I’ll remember where that is? Am I trying to drive myself crazy? To what purpose?

It could be I’m challenging my brain to remember things. Let’s go with that.

That’s what I’ll tell myself when I’m too lazy to put my glasses in their perch by my bed, instead leaving them on my desk, table, kitchen counter, bathroom counter, or on top of my head.

I’ll remind myself that I’m challenging my brain to grow more neurons when I put the fresh, raw turkey for Thanksgiving into the pantry instead of the refrigerator. Yes, I remembered in time. See? My brain met the challenge.

Challenge your brain, too. Try to take note of landmarks when you park your car. Yes, I know your phone can remember for you, but it’s not as much fun. Plus, you miss out on wandering the parking lot pressing the lock button on your key fob so your car will honk for you. Way more fun than using a “Find My Car” App.

Turn off the ringer on your phone, and put it somewhere unlikely. Like inside your closet on a shelf while you change clothes. Or on top of the washing machine. Or in your pocket, of the jeans you’re wearing. Then frantically search. No fair using the “Find My Phone” App.

Both the car and the phone challenge have the added benefit of providing you with exercise, as you traverse the parking lot, or run madly through your house.

When you can’t think of a word in conversation, make one up. Your friends will assume you are smarter than they, because you know words they don’t. Or, say what a friend of mine does when she forgets what she was saying, “I’ve decided not to tell you.”

Brain challenges are supposed to keep us young, right? So we make our own brain challenges unintentionally. It’s still good practice, and it gets your heart rate up in a way the brain puzzles don’t. Two birds with one stone.

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Previously published on medium

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