The Way Home

Format

The layout of my blog is still terrible. However, since my knowledge of html and template fiddling is limited to making things in italics without using the italics short cut key or inserting a picture I think this is as good as it's going to get. Want me to edit your thesis? Translate something from French to English? Talk about Hannah Arendt? I'm your girl. Writing code, not so much. Unless it makes it harder to read somehow, I think I'm going to leave it as is for the moment.

The Way Home

I tend to think of the strangest things on the way home from work. For the past week or so, I've been imagining what it would be like to be in some sort of accident that would give a person retrograde amnesia, meaning they would be unable to remember past events (as opposed to short term memory loss). To be honest, I've been imagining what it would be like to go through my situation in Korea with retrograde amnesia. It is an interesting prospect and is perfect for amusing myself with for the 15 minute commute home. Of course, Wikipedia informs me that most amnesia lasts for less than 24 hours which kills my fun a bit but I can ignore that. Apparently, you remember motor skills but I wonder how deeply it has to be ingrained to remember. Would I remember how to speak French or Spanish? Could I still touch type? Tie my shoes? On the other hand, thinking about it so much has made me think that I should give my parents a list of friends to contact in case I ever did get amnesia and the people I keep in touch with around the world wondered why I wasn't responding to any emails. (Since obviously I wouldn't remember any of my email passwords.) Is it morbid to imagine things like retrograde amnesia or simply, very strangely, curious?

This weekend is the Battle of the Bands at Psycho. I love Psycho. I love the special events that Psycho hosts. However, I hate events like Battle of the Bands almost as much as Open Mic Nights. Even though I can't sing on key or play guitar, I have a trained ear (somewhat trained anyways) and every wrong note jars my senses. I am going for the usual reasons, a friend's band is playing. There is only one way to survive a Battle of the Bands: go with a mocking partner and be prepared to drink a fair amount. What is a mocking partner you ask? Someone who not only won't mind your merciless commentary about the music but makes for interesting repartee about the matter. I have to think of something nice to do for myself on Sunday to make it up to my ear drums. Maybe a pedicure...with my ipod to drown out the pop music playing at the salon.