So apparently I shouldn't multi-task

Those of you who've known me longest: Have I always been such a flake? I feel like I used to be smart. I used to read big books with big words in them. I wrote poetry that managed to avoid the moon/June/swoon trap that so many adolescents fall into. I kept myself informed on current events, and had reasoned opinions on matters of politics and society.

Now, suddenly, I can't seem to make popcorn and pour soda at the same time.

I've burned two toasty cheese sandwiches in the last four days -- and this afternoon, immediately after burning my toddler's sandwich (and then scraping it within an inch of its life), I nearly burned the baby's. That would have made three in four days, but luckily I remembered I was cooking just in time.

We have a box of individual sized microwaveable popcorn bags whose expiration date is nearing. DH discovered it tucked away in some dark corner tonight, and made himself a bag. The lovely buttery smell permeated the house; I couldn't resist. I broke out a bag of my own, got it going in the microwave, then started filling up a cup with ice for the tasty beverage I'd have with it.

A minute or so later, I heard a pop and jumped, thinking (seriously), "What was that?" Your popcorn, moron.

The pops became more frequent and more regular, so I turned my attention back to pouring my soda, waiting for the fizz to settle down, then pouring some more.... My next distinct thought: "What do I smell burning?"

Oh yeah. I'm supposed to listen for the pops to stop. I forgot. I pulled the bag open and set it on the stove, under the fan, to smoke indefinitely.

It's not just cooking, though burnt up things do make good illustrative anecdotes.

Granted, I was a teenager (or barely past it) back in the day when I felt smart. It's easy to know everything at that age! At 17, I had a deep conviction of my intellect. Now, at 30....

It wasn't all adolescent hubris, though; I did know things! I had Tennyson's Ulysses memorized, beginning to end. I knew names and dates and contextual relationships in European history; I could hold my own in a conversation on the Treaty of Westphalia if an occasion ever called for it! I read Russian novels as if they were beach books, and gobbled up information on any subject that caught my eye for even a moment.

Now I struggle for words when I speak and write. I attempt to keep up with and form opinions about current events, but find my brain sputtering and stalling like an old car on a cold day. I try to read the occasional high-brow essay, out of concern that whatever intellect I had will rust from lack of use, but stumble over the most basic prose; I have to read and re-read and read again.

*Sigh!*

I meant to write a funny post about my recent inability to walk and chew gum at the same time, but it's turned out a little more depressing than that. For me, at least. It's incredibly frustrating -- and a little bit frightening -- to suddenly feel so dumb, so flaky. I feel a bit like Charlie in Flowers for Algernon.

Assuming, of course, that I remember the story correctly.


~RCH~