Mentalpause
Feb. 24th, 2005 09:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrdreamjeansI’ve been traveling so much, trying to see so many of my friends, trying to hit so many deadlines, that I’m forgetting things, having a hard time coming up with answers to questions for which I really do have answers. Luckily, I still do come up with information that is seemingly lost in my memory banks, but it’s taking a bit longer than it used to. (Don't you hate it when your memory bank won't give you change?:) I’ve decided those times when I can’t quite come up with information should be called mentalpause.
Mentalpause should be relaxing. After all, why do I need to know so many things? I’ve always been a guy with a strong need to know, to understand how and why things happen or work. Why can’t I just sit back and accept that, after a certain age, bits and pieces of information float out of my memory, sloughed off like so many dead skin cells to be vacuumed off the sofa and carpet?
I meet so many people in my travels and have worked with hundreds of actors. Often, I can’t come up with a name, no matter how vigorously I go through my mental rolodex. During the gypsy run-through in New York for “Evita” someone said, “Hey Neil! Remember me?” This came from an actor on Broadway in “Phantom of the Opera”. He was my musical director in 1979 at a Six Flags over Texas Theme Park. I hadn’t seen him since then. (Plus he was no longer a sunny blonde.) I wanted to say, “No, as a matter of fact, I have no clue who you are.” (I don’t do that to people. I offer my name to save them embarrassment.)
I think it would have been more concise to say, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m going through mentalpause.” Perhaps, that would have elicited sympathy from him rather than chuckles at my expense. It certainly would have saved time. And I wouldn’t be sitting in Spokane, Washington, months later, remembering the episode.
If I rid myself of useless information, the unnecessary retention of unimportant facts; if I conveniently forget past hurts and lost loves, wouldn’t I be living a less stressful existence? If I have no memory of an unhappy event, or don’t care what someone thinks, wouldn’t life be much simpler? Maybe there’s a way to separate the important from the trivial or painful in my memory. I’ll gladly take suggestions.
On a practical level - healthy choices in diet, fitness and exercise and vitamin supplements help. So do quality hours of rest. But, there is also an unwelcome genetic component to all of this. My Dad certainly isn’t happy not knowing things. At home, I’ve made lists by the phone of important phone numbers and addresses, including the home number and address. There are days Dad can’t come up with any of this information on his own without the referral list. There are moments when he can’t remember the names of places he’s worked, his favorite store or the name of a loved one. Senility isn’t kind. Medications can be unkind to memory. I’m going to attack the problem instead of waiting for the decline.
I’ve decided to embrace my occasional lapse of memory, to buffet myself against the onslaught of sypathetic glances when I joke about being senile, to defend myself against the embarrassment of having to acknowledge that the years are making me a bit forgetful. I’m simply going to tell folks I’m in mentalpause and laugh. Doesn’t that sound better? It's just like the past... when Altzheimer’s Disease was called “hardening of the arteries”. The folksy phrase, hardening of the arteries, sounds much kinder, less clinical ... something that could be improved with a mental laxative, instead of a constant reminder of this frightening, debilitating disease.
I’m just going to push a button in my brain like the pause on a television remote. It will freeze my cells in a neutral state until, blissfully, the required information floats into my consciousness and once again, my friends will say, “Neil, How ever do you remember all of the details of that stuff that happened so long ago?” I’ll just organize the brain-cell files, keep adding or re-introducing information so the occasional lapses will be less noticeable...and...oh...wait a minute ...geez... I can’t come up with the right word to finish this thought... Excuse me while I take a mentalpause. Talk amongst yourselves:)
Mentalpause should be relaxing. After all, why do I need to know so many things? I’ve always been a guy with a strong need to know, to understand how and why things happen or work. Why can’t I just sit back and accept that, after a certain age, bits and pieces of information float out of my memory, sloughed off like so many dead skin cells to be vacuumed off the sofa and carpet?
I meet so many people in my travels and have worked with hundreds of actors. Often, I can’t come up with a name, no matter how vigorously I go through my mental rolodex. During the gypsy run-through in New York for “Evita” someone said, “Hey Neil! Remember me?” This came from an actor on Broadway in “Phantom of the Opera”. He was my musical director in 1979 at a Six Flags over Texas Theme Park. I hadn’t seen him since then. (Plus he was no longer a sunny blonde.) I wanted to say, “No, as a matter of fact, I have no clue who you are.” (I don’t do that to people. I offer my name to save them embarrassment.)
I think it would have been more concise to say, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m going through mentalpause.” Perhaps, that would have elicited sympathy from him rather than chuckles at my expense. It certainly would have saved time. And I wouldn’t be sitting in Spokane, Washington, months later, remembering the episode.
If I rid myself of useless information, the unnecessary retention of unimportant facts; if I conveniently forget past hurts and lost loves, wouldn’t I be living a less stressful existence? If I have no memory of an unhappy event, or don’t care what someone thinks, wouldn’t life be much simpler? Maybe there’s a way to separate the important from the trivial or painful in my memory. I’ll gladly take suggestions.
On a practical level - healthy choices in diet, fitness and exercise and vitamin supplements help. So do quality hours of rest. But, there is also an unwelcome genetic component to all of this. My Dad certainly isn’t happy not knowing things. At home, I’ve made lists by the phone of important phone numbers and addresses, including the home number and address. There are days Dad can’t come up with any of this information on his own without the referral list. There are moments when he can’t remember the names of places he’s worked, his favorite store or the name of a loved one. Senility isn’t kind. Medications can be unkind to memory. I’m going to attack the problem instead of waiting for the decline.
I’ve decided to embrace my occasional lapse of memory, to buffet myself against the onslaught of sypathetic glances when I joke about being senile, to defend myself against the embarrassment of having to acknowledge that the years are making me a bit forgetful. I’m simply going to tell folks I’m in mentalpause and laugh. Doesn’t that sound better? It's just like the past... when Altzheimer’s Disease was called “hardening of the arteries”. The folksy phrase, hardening of the arteries, sounds much kinder, less clinical ... something that could be improved with a mental laxative, instead of a constant reminder of this frightening, debilitating disease.
I’m just going to push a button in my brain like the pause on a television remote. It will freeze my cells in a neutral state until, blissfully, the required information floats into my consciousness and once again, my friends will say, “Neil, How ever do you remember all of the details of that stuff that happened so long ago?” I’ll just organize the brain-cell files, keep adding or re-introducing information so the occasional lapses will be less noticeable...and...oh...wait a minute ...geez... I can’t come up with the right word to finish this thought... Excuse me while I take a mentalpause. Talk amongst yourselves:)
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Re: not a sound from the paaaavement....
Date: 2005-02-25 06:15 pm (UTC)