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It a sad truth: being a blogger means that when you have nothing to write you write it anyway. I'll be honest. It'd probably be better if I put a word search here. It's just when I sat down to write a post, I couldn't remember what I wanted to write about. So away I plug, charging fearlessly into the vast blank reaches of my empty imagination to search it.

*Staring at the computer screen*

Shoot, nothing pops up in my brain. Maybe I should make a different approach.

*Staring at the computer screen turned on*

It's ALIVE! It's ALIVE! MMUUAHAHAHAAAA...

I know I wanted to write something. I just couldn't remember it. I couldn't find which part of my brain that holds the memory about what I'm going to write. But brain memory loss is nothing new for me. It began when I was born. Try as I might, I just can't remember being born. This strikes me as strange. Birth is arguably the most momentous and triumphant event in a person's life. It's the reason I am alive. It is my coming out party. People even celebrate the anniversary of my birth every year by giving gifts or throwing heart-attack-inducing surprise parties. But strangely, none of the birthday celebrations have helped me remember my birth. Even stranger is that people who could have no memory of my birth, such as my girlfiends, keep celebrating it.

Perhaps the cause of memory loss is trauma. We block out from our memory traumatic events. Like birth, for instance. Imagine being squeezed through a steel toilet paper tube with mucus and blood and other assorted "ooey gooey" stuff, with something resembling an alien tentacle protruding from where your bellybutton is supposed to be.

Sure, birth was my highest moment of triumph, but I am in no hurry to repeat it. I prefer to retire while I am still at the top of your game. Women, on the other hand, are the top notch of this game as many continues to improve themselves.

I rarely able to remember names either. No, meeting people is not a traumatic moments. I just can't seem to attach them to faces, which I hear is a common problem. Like many people, my brain-glue was recalled for factory defects. I should have opened that recall notice when it arrived.

One memory game you can play to help attach names to faces is pin-the-name-on-the-donkey. This works great for people with defective brain-glue, because it uses ins instead of glue. I suggest you do this in your mind, not in the actual reception room. Many people object to having things pinned to their faces, and a few might even object to being called donkeys. Most importantly, you could be in violation of local safety ordinances, especially if you use a stapler.

Another common strategy many people use to remember names is to repeat the person's name several times. However, I think that sounds silly.

"And who are you?"

"It's Dinda."

"Hi Dinda, how are you?"

"Just great. How's your girlfriend?"

"Dinda, I don't have anyone listed on my relationship status yet. How about you?"

"I don't have either."

"I see, Dinda. What I can't see is why such an indulgent beautiful girl like you don't have a boyfriend?"

"I'm waiting for the right guy to ask me out. By the way, why do you keep repeating my name?"

"Me, Dinda? Repeating your name? Ah, you must be kidding, Dinda. And who's your friend here, Dinda?

"She's Nadya."

"Hi Nadya, are you single too?"

Perhaps meeting people is less traumatic than being born. At least I do remember meeting people, and not always waking up in a cold sweat. And I DO remember their names. And I DO remember their faces, especially if they're super duper cute and sexy. And I even remember a few of their birthdays. But try as I might, I don't remember any of them being born.

Now, what was I going to write about? I just can't remember. So, while you wait on the edge of your seat, I present what should have been here all along: a word search.

Can you find the hidden word? (Hint: "feline.")

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