My life is so similar to The Notebook it's not even funny. It's not funny because I'm talking about the final chapters here people.


Yes, my memory. It's slipping. It's unreliable. It's basically of no human use.

Important dates, tasks, names, events, elementary problem-solving skills...all out the window. With me one second, then absolutely gone within the smallest, tiniest, least computable fraction of a millisecond.

A milli, a milli, a milli, a milli...


See, just now I was going to continue on with my constantly-compiling motherload of memory issues, but now can't remember where I was going with it because I ridiculously got off task with that whole milli tangent and then consequently started humming to myself A Millionaire. Then my mind started questioning if "milli" was spelled with two Ls or one, and then I wondered if that song is indeed called A Millionaire, and then I felt completely embarrassed for not knowing earlier if milli was spelled with two Ls or one, and then that issue instigated a self-reflection shrouded in doubt concerning my ability to remain salaried as a professional writer, and, considering the economy and subsequent unemployment rate, my concerns skyrocketed exponentially to that of supremus maximus levels because if I was fired from my job for incompetency, I couldn't get a temporary job as a waiter because I have no MEMORY to remember what anyone asked for, and now my anxiety levels have heightened to another unhealthy maximus.


You know the song though, right? Millionaire? By Lil.....Wayne, right? Or is it Lil Zane? I need to do some serious Google research now to officially resolve my queries before I get an aneurysm.

I may never get back to my original point, just FYI.

I'll update once I'm informed and back on task.