In your head

I often wonder what really happens inside my head, and how my thought processes do what they do. How do I remember some very peculiar things, but can't keep track of where the keys are?

This week has had some pretty special examples. I was at my physio appointment on Tuesday, and my physio asked me what I had given my mother for Mother's Day. A pretty reasonable question, and it was only 2 days after the fact. What did I say I'd given Mum? A watermelon and three bags of potting mix. She looked at me askance, and I tried again. I gave mum a watermelon and three bags of potting mix. I felt myself giving that head shake that you do when you are trying to get something out of your head and tried again. I gave mum a watermelon and three bags of potting mix. I gave up and wrote it down.

I think I've got an evil sprite living in my head, programming the very scary jukebox from hell. So far this week on high rotation I've had Blame it on the Rain by Milli Vanilli, Take it from me by Girlfriend, Help me Rhonda (conjuring up scary visions of Gordon from Melmac) by the Beach Boys, Delilah by Tom Jones (velvet, that was you!), and Zombie by the Cranberries. The only way that I know how to get rid of any of them is to start singing god save the queen. I don't mean the lyrics either, just that dum dum dum dum dumdum over and over, clearing the mind for the next scary set of song lyrics.

The words that I'm thinking in my head aren't the ones that I'm typing either. This blog entry has taken ages to do, because I have to keep rereading and realising that when I type wear I really mean where. It has happened with the other thing I've been writing (aka righting) too - I seem to have a bad case of the typing homophones. It really is most disconcerting. Even more unfortunate has been my inability to type my name incorrectly. If one vowel is replaced by another vowel, my name becomes something quite obscene. If nothing else, I've been very entertaining for the people around me.

Oh, and for those who may be wondering, it was a wheelbarrow.

Taxing my brain - a recurring theme

Why doesn't blogger ever remember me?
Why are there days when there is one word I cannot spell all day? Today I've been writing and typing reprot. Let's not talk about consluting.
Does Robbie Williams realise that if he had cut down on his daily dose of 36 double espressos and 20 Red Bulls he may not have had such problems sleeping?
Do the Catholics and Anglicans really want to become one church under the Pope again? Doesn't that make most of Ireland's history of the 20th century redundant?
Why are all these TV shows picking up on songs I'm obsessed with. Suddenly I see by KT Tunstall popped up on So you think you can Dance, and last night on Ugly Betty too. I'll never get it out of my head.
Who makes the ads for iPods and iTunes - I love your work.
Why is Betty Ugly? I think she has the most beautiful smile.

I feel better now. Thanks