At the prodding of a few friends, I joined Facebook the other day. On the one hand, I’m feeling a little elated about the people coming out of the woodwork. How is it that the first guy I ever kissed (2.2 million years ago) found me within two hours of setting up the account!? Impressive in its own baffling way (unless it turns out there’s a “alert me if so-and-so ever joins Facebook” feature, and then I guess it’s not quite so amazing). I’m strangely thrilled at the prospect of reconnecting with people I accidentally lost track of along the way.

On the other hand, I discovered a feature last night that’s making me feel like Jason Bourne, and I’m starting to think I might be a selective amnesiac. How the hell is it that I remember NO ONE I went to high school with!?!?

Okay, not no one. The few people I am still friends with I remember. And the girl who was a pathological liar and accused me of stealing something from her when I told her I didn’t want to be friends (and took it so far as to have her parents come to my house, and get me into a world of trouble.) HER I remember, but I still don’t want to be friends! 

Anyway, I went to three high schools (although Facebook will only allow me to log two of them), and I have looked through most of the 300-odd names listed for both of them and stared blankly at them all. It gets even worse if I look at the three colleges I attended, but that I can blame on the fact that at college there are a lot more attendees…  RIGHT?

Then I try to remember the names of my teachers and (***sound of wind blowing***) blank. I remember Sister Elaine from second grade, and I think maybe there was a Mr. Longnecker at some point or maybe Longacre? Or Longenecker? Who the hell knows?  

I always thought I had a good memory, but now I’m starting to think that maybe the reason I sometimes dream that I’m back in high school is because I NEVER WENT. Maybe all my memories have been transplanted by the government, and I’m an uneducated secret agent they’re waiting to activate? Maybe this is why the CatWoman outfit fit so well – I was born to wear stretchy leather and other ‘ninja wear’? Perhaps my body is a lethal weapon, and I don’t even know it? I wonder if I can fly a helicopter?

Or maybe it’s just early Alzheimers, kindly robbing me of things that apparently didn’t matter much anyway. Who can know for certain?

Regardless, it’s freaking me out a little bit, and I think I need a drink. That’s good for brain cells, right?