Some people climb Mount Everest. Some people climb the corporate ladder. Some people climb aboard pirate ships in search of gold only to find they've stumbled upon a seniors-only cruise. Some enjoy volunteering to teach children how to skip, while others have a knack for performing open-heart surgery blindfolded and armed with a pair of nose clippers. And some, crazily enough, even like stealing microphones at televised awards shows. But I'm one who takes simple comfort in being a blissfully scatterbrained schlub. The type of guy who couldn't remember his own name if it was tattooed on his arm, or on the left inside of the ankle right next to a small freckle, one-inch wide in swirly black font ... or something like that.
I've lost more jackets, sunglasses and retainers than Richard Simmons has lost paternity suits. One cell phone went swimming with a pair of jeans through the wash, while my treasured U2 iPod was sent hurtling into a crowded intersection one summer day after being abandoned on the roof of a friend's car. I just recently broke the screen on my new digital camera, absentmindedly ramming my leg into a pole while it was still in my shorts pocket. Good news: It still takes pictures. But that's kind of like saying, "Isn't it grand Stevie Wonder has his driver's license?"
Of course, the sheer lack of recall I have transcends far beyond personal belongings. Meetings, papers, my mail-order bride's birthday, candlelight dinners with President Casteen, parasailing lessons, triangle concertos and even deadlines for this very newspaper have all been equally neglected by my unwatchful eye. As far as classes go, nothing beats the rush of the triple threat. Staying up until the crack of dawn to finish an assignment I just remembered, forgetting to bring it to class the next day even after shoving everything from my war-torn desk into my backpack and then, if my teacher is really a saint, not dropping the damn thing at office hours for half-credit. A plummeting homework grade and early-onset Alzheimers - who knew it could be so thrilling?
Not to say there aren't perks to being absentminded. Liberal use of curse words is not only normal, but completely expected. I'm never relied on for anything and nobody bats an eyelash if I show up late. Multiple-choice tests tend to burn off more calories than a five-mile run. And I'm never stressed about deadlines, unlike many of my fellow classmates.
I also have the pleasure of being able to reflect on how amazing I could be if blessed with a mind of steel, rather than one adept at reeling off quotes from Arrested Development at random. Steve Jobs' personal headphone tester, a fortune cookie tycoon in Malaysia, the owner of Pita Bungalow - the bitter rival of another pita restaurant on The Corner - the possibilities are endless! But I'd really be golden if I could just remember how this column was going to end ...
David's column runs biweekly Fridays. He can be reached at d.replogle@cavalierdaily.com.
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