That Would Be Filed Under F For Fuck My Life.

Sometimes I wish I could have some sort of disease that worked like Alzheimer's.  Not in the horrific way that Alzheimer's destroys every part of your brain and leaves you unrecognizable and rips your family to pieces.  But if I could have some of the bad memories taken away, I wouldn't mind.  Not all of them, of course, because some of them have been very important in my growth as a person.  But seriously?  Many of them can just go away.  I usually don't dwell on most of these thoughts, but they will just creep in when I have been thinking about something else that may be related in some obscure way.
     It's like I have drawers of memories filed away under different categories, written on cards to be looked at every once in awhile.  But sometimes when I am looking at one, I drop the drawer and the cards become a jumbled mess, so I have to look at each one and put them back in their place.  Wouldn't it be nice if I could just go through and hand pick the ones I don't want and burn them in a nice little pile?

Take this little gem for example:

Year:  1985
Place:  Elementary School
Description:  While preparing to give a demonstration of how to make pancakes and heating up the griddle, cockroaches that had been living in said griddle began running for their lives.

I wish this did not actually happen to me.  But it did.  And every time I think of it, my cheeks still burn with the shame and humiliation that I felt that day.  It is like I am 11 years old again, crying to my teacher.  But the best part of that memory <insert sarcasm> is that now, as an adult, I can only dream of all the things she must have been thinking.

How about this one:

Year:  1987
Place:  The shopping center across from my house.
Description:  While walking with a more popular girl that I did not find very attractive (I still don't know why we were hanging out), she told me, "It's not your fault that I am prettier than you.".

Yeah, I don't like to remember that one either.  I don't actually think she was prettier than me and honestly, that shows some insecurity on her part.  But the way I felt about that statement at 13, considering the way I already felt about myself and my life at the time, so not cool.  And so not worth rehashing, but there it is.  Cataloged away to make an appearance when I least expect it.

This one is similar, but worse on so many levels:

Year:  1990
Place:  The neighborhood next to mine
Description:  Walking home from school, a younger child that I did not know told me I was fat and ugly.

Again, not really worth rehashing, so why can't it just go away?

This one, wow.  This one is one I would totally love to forget.  No, this one I wish would have never happened, but forgetting it would be nice too:

Year:  1992
Place:  My best friends car
Description:  After getting ripped on Purple Passion wine coolers and calling my friend to come and rescue me from a party, I suddenly puked Purple Passion and the contents of everything I had eaten that day all over the passenger side of her front seat.

Do I even need to explain why I would not want to remember this?  No, I didn't think so.

     So, yeah.  I wouldn't mind having a few memories erased.  Again, nothing overly important, just ones that have no business hanging around and taking up my sweet ass time.