Damn. I guess I have Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. It’s May. In 1991, I saw Akira at the theater in May. I talked about it a bunch of times. I still remember which aisles of the supermarket we went to afterwards, to this day. I remember how my friend’s mom was wondering where to go, while standing there, next to the escalator, which was on my right while I was daydreaming about that in-sane movie I had just watched. I don’t remember much after that because I was so overwhelmed by Otomo’s masterpiece. Every May of every year, I will think about that old shit. I can’t help it.
I think I have HSAM because of adoption. Memory is like a muscle, you need to use it to make it stronger. And man, did I use mine. My situation had me thinking about situations, over and over and over, my entire life. I rarely forget anything, unless I’m completely exhausted which is rare. I’m a bit OCPD (which is not OCD, don’t be rude).
Not having blood relatives made me feel like "I have to remember". No one else would nor could! I never forget that I started my life in a small village in France and now look at me, sound designing games, composing music and fixing computers in south LA. It’s been so wild, I always used my memory like "hey, remember when you flew to the south of France with your friend picking you up, blazing a big spliff, and later on going from Perpignan to Barcelona real quick?" Or "damn, that day when I passed a Bugatti Veyron Supercar with the biggest rear wing I had ever seen, in Calabasas because it was so slow due to speed bumps going down the hill, that was weird". Or a million other things that you will read about in my upcoming memoir.
I can’t stop training my memory. It’s actively working all the time. Thank you Life, I guess.