Forgetful Dragon

My memory is a wierd collection of seemingly random data. Half the time I can barely remember my own name, but I can always remember the name of the Astronomer in the War of the Worlds, or the number of soldiers in a Roman Legion during first century BC. Basically, I can easily remember almost anything as long as I am at least slightly interested in the subject.

Unfortunately, some essential items are not included in this list of things my mind stores with such alarming clarity. For example, the highlight of this current trip to US was when I left my passport at the newsagent while strolling through Vancouver airport. Luckily for me the lady who runs the shop took my passport to the gate where my flight was leaving -I never even noticed that I lost the damn thing. I'd love to say good riddance to whole passport institution, only if I didn't need it for travel. That document has been a source of far too much stress in my life.

My brain simply refuses to acknowledge the fact that a piece of paper which confirms my identity is somehow important. On the other hand, the number of fingers the Thing of Fantastic Four posseses is always on my mind. Though in the grand scheme of things, I think that I am lucky with the kind of memory I've been given: one of the main reasons why I've been moderately successful in my chosen profession is the fact that I can probably remember every session of every game I've ever play to at least some extent.

The moral of the story is: Concentrate on what you are good at. I doubt I'd ever make a good PA or clerk, as impressed as I am with their ability to organise and remember practical things. Much better for all the concerned that I make games instead of timetables.