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Self-Portrait 3
hellblazer
I need a little bird or something to sit on my shoulder and whisper in my ear, constantly reminding me of the things I need to be doing at any given moment. I realize that other people have this little thing called a "brain" that serves this function for them, but apparently mine needs to go back to the shop.

I've always been a little bit scatterbrained, but lately it's gotten to the point that if I'm doing something, and I start thinking about doing something else, if I don't at least get started on "something else" within the next five minutes, it's right out. I'll remember it an hour later and go "Shit!"

And I'll make mental notes to do certain things, and I'll remember them, on average, about eight or nine hours too late to do any good. Or one thing of two or three things that are nagging at me will pop into my head, and I won't even think about the other two. Like last night, when I went over to Luke and Michelle's, I meant to borrow her copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude. But did I remember to? Of course not. Something else that I needed to do popped into the forefront of my brain, and the book was completely forgotten. I also meant to snag back a couple of CD's that she'd borrowed, but did I remember those either? Again, of course not. I also forgot to call my mother last night. Stupid brain.

Oh well. I don't suppose I should complain too much. I did remember to do the one thing that was actually important. Oh, wait, no I didn't. Michelle remembered while I was standing there trying to remember. Double-Stupid brain.

Or maybe I'm just getting old.


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One Hundred Years Of Solitude may be my favorite book of all time.

I've heard good things about it, and the plan was for me to borrow Michelle's copy and read it over the break. If they're still here when I get off work I'll just grab it then, but if not, I suppose I'll just have to wait.

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