I’m losing my mind.
I’m forgetting everything. And I don’t think it’s early onset Alzheimers, although it wouldn’t be so early at this point.
Last week in Nashville, I ran into someone I wrote a song with over 20 years ago and I sang him the whole hook. But songs I wrote a year ago? Forget it. Why? Fast food. And I have to say, since finishing my book and re-evaluating what I want to work on, and who I want to work with, my memory for songs I’ve written more recently has improved. But that’s about all that has.
I went to jot down these thoughts on the Post-it pad I keep in my make-up drawer in the bathroom, for pre-shower ideas. Gone. I had made a mental note note not to remove that pad from that drawer. But indeed it had been removed. Probably by me.
Last month, I rested my keys on the roof of my car before a trip to Ventura. The Keyless Go engine happily started, but when I turned it off, 60 miles from home, I couldn’t start it again.
I bought my husband that “tile” tracking device to put on his keychain cuz he’s the one who’s always losing his. He should have just given it back to me. But he can’t anymore because he can’t remember where he put it.
I can’t find my Ugg Boots. I might have left them at the nail salon…swapped them out for post pedi flip flops. Dunno. Maybe I left them at Yoga. I will check tomorrow.
I misplaced a signed copy of my book that I was planning on mailing to my Facebook friend, Travis. Most likely, another book buyer at a songwriting workshop I attended this past weekend, now owns a book with a message to Travis inside the front cover. Sorry, whoever you are. You’re probably reading this and understand why that is.
“Where is your head, Katherine?” sang k.d. lang. God I miss k.d. lang. Where is k.d. lang?
Because of all this ditzy-ness, I’ve started a ritual of taking inventory whenever I’m about to leave a location and head to another. Still, I leave things behind. Phone? Check. Purse? Check. It’s always something else.
I left my sunglasses on the dining room table at a co-write last week after carefully taking that inventory. (To be fair, co-writer's wife had come home while we were working and tossed her jacket on top of them. So they were not visible upon my eye scan.)
I left my capo and guitar tuner on Victoria Shaw’s guitar. We scoured her writing room before my departure. It appeared to us I had successfully gathered all my belongings. Wrong again.
What’s going on? I’m multi-tasking. I have lotsa stuff to tote. Three pair of glasses (sun, near and far), power cords, snacks!, guitar accouterments I’m not used to carrying as I’ve always been a keyboard player. Excuses. The real reason is it’s unnatural for a boomer who grew up single-tasking to multi-task.
I can remember the phone number of a childhood friend but I can’t remember my sister’s…I blame this on the iPhone…which I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. But it is replacing the need to use my brain. I realize it has a Reminders app but to have it remind me of things I need to remember myself, compounds the problem.
I started writing this blog and then went to the market for laundry detergent and some fish for dinner. You know what happened? I can’t find the fish. I swear. I lost the damn fish.
I’m tired. I have to slow down. I know I do. And speaking of slowing down, the songs I can't remember are not surprisingly songs I happened to write in a hurry.
Today, Keaton Simons and I sat in my yard with the warmth of the sun and 2 guitars. I know we wrote something that will see the light of day. (No pun). And I won’t forget it.
And speaking of slowing down the world, here's one I wrote with Guy Roche in 2000 (sung by the infamous Windy Wagner). I'm aware that it's dated. It's 17 years old! But it was slow cooked. And I remember every word.