Words are escaping me

I want to be a journalist because I want to know things.

I don’t know a lot of things, I’m not smart.

I think that’s why I wanted to be a journalist, because journalists are required to know things, and if they don’t then they have to learn.

I want to know things and read things and understand things.

The frustrating thing is that I forget everything I learn. I don’t remember a thing I learned from college, because at the end of every semester, after every final, I would close my eyes and delete the mental files labeled Biology, and Mexican-American History, and Music, because I thought I was making room for more information, but I didn’t realize I was only hurting myself.

I’ve always had bad memory. I can’t remember simple things like 8 x 7 or what I was just about to do before I got distracted. It’s why I blog. It’s why I’ve always blogged.

I wrote about the most inconsequential things because at the time I thought they were consequential, and things I’d want to remember.

And I think that’s why I always wanted to be a journalist. Because paper lasts, words last, stories last, but memories don’t.

 

 

Remembering why I wanted to be a journalist is important because I’m starting to forget. I’m forgetting words, I’m forgetting grammar, I’m forgetting idioms, and how to pronounce things.

I can feel my brain degenerating, my cognitive senses flailing as I try to formulate a sentence.

I want to write, so that I don’t forget, but what do I do when I forget how to write?

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