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I was recently looking for my school yearbooks, and after much searching, I discovered that they're missing.  Surprisingly, I wasn't upset, or even bothered.  Instead I felt that I had been freed.  This doesn't seem like a normal reaction because yearbooks are among the irreplaceable when it comes to posessions, like old photographs and family heirlooms, but I don't have any of those either.  It's as if my lifelong attempt to move ahead without looking back, to always move forward and not live in the past, is causing my past to disappear, and I couldn't go back even if I wanted.  Works for me.

But the annoying part is that I have a good memory, better than most people apparently, so the past always follows me no matter how fast I move.  Whenever I'm having a conversation with someone who's waxing nostalgic about the past, they invariably do not remember the past with much accuracy.  It's anoying to me when I listen to them, and annoying to them when I correct them.  This had led to more than a few agruments.  I try to explain that the more you learn, the more you learn how much there is to learn, so you're never really ahead, but no one listens.

Maybe I can use this to my advantage.  So you got that 20 you owe me, I can say.  What, they'll say, I don't remember borrowing money from you.  But I do remember, I'll say, and they'll believe me, for I'm the one with a good memory.  On my next payday I'll say to my boss, hey, why is my check short, you promised me a raise.  To the cute chick at the coffee place I'll say, but you promised you'd go out with me this weekend.  Well, okay, she'll say, but why do I have to pay?

All this stuff about memory and the past has been on my mind because my high school reunion is coming up, and I'm not sure if my present matches the image I had back then of what my future would be.  I've made a lot of gains in some areas, but I'm still monetarily challenged, and at my age that's all that really counts.  Why didn't God make me rich instead of good looking.