I Talk Out Loud Like You’re Still Around

So I'm reading Sloane Crosley's How Did You Get This Number? (great book go get it) and at the chapter where she explains her learning disability (something about really crappy spatial reasoning which gets her lost all the time) I feel myself relating to her problem. Why? At first I'm confused because I don't have any issues that I can recall that inhibit me from functioning normally...OH WAIT DUH. It smacks me in he face: I've got the shittiest memory ever. So shitty that I forgot about my own shitty memory. Whoops.

In the book Crosley explains her ways of dealing with her disability. She has invented elaborate ways to cover it up so it doesn't impede on her adult life. So being the overly involved reader that I am (I do this with every book I read, sticking myself in it) I start to consider how I deal with my shite memory.

My coping mechanism is to over-analyze everything.

David does it too. My best friend that is. We have a habit of taking minor occurrences in our lives and breaking down the memory of it: discerning cause, effect, psychological motivations, etc. Most people HATE when I do this. David is all for it, and we laugh at our own ridiculousness.

Do we really have to decode exactly what circumstances led to us running into one another on his -and now mine as well college campus? Normal people would simply think, "Oh, duh! I had registration today and Dave has a summer class in this building so we were bound to see each other!" We aren't very normal.

And in this very pattern of over-analyzing I see:

I need to break things down in to patterns and know the WHY of the event to help myself in remembering the event.

David needs to turn over every detail and know WHY because of the anxiety he gets over things he can't figure out. If he can't figure out why his boyfriend said something it'll fester and make him more exacerbated until he intentionally picks a fight over something pretty negligible.

We're such freaks.