Everything I think about these days seems to be related to aging. Even the things I don’t want to think about are age related. Like my memory. I used to drop gingko biloba regularly but stopped this past summer as I had concluded that it didn’t really help me–I would forget to do what M told me to do, or I would not be able locate my baseball cap. What I hadn’t counted on was that, perhaps, the gingko biloba was actually working and my powers of memory was actually worse.

I was on Facebook, poking around the RBJ group and noticed someone I thought I might know on Xanga. As she–and most of us–prefer to remain anonymous, I thought I recognized through her location history. But I wasn’t sure. I thought I’d friend her but decided to confirm her identity first. I wouldn’t want her to think I’m a stalker…

Onigiriman: Hi, Are you Enygma? I’m Onigiriman. 🙂 Of course, you may already know that. 😛

Enygma: Yes.
Wait, when we messaged each other several months ago, did you think I was a complete stranger?

Oooops! (@_@;)

Oh brother. She’s right of course; she did message me. And I did NOT think she was a complete stranger back then. But for the moment, I had forgotten. I guess, had I bothered to think about it, maybe look in my inbox for previous mesages, I would have saved myself the embarrassment. But nooooooo. I decided to confirm as to save both of us some embarrassment, but ended up just embarrassing myself.

Now where did I stash that gingko?

1:30, 7.26