Tales to Astonish!

It’s happened again:

There is another black hole in my memory.

Some people are used to this, as I once was, but I haven’t had a drink in five months, nor suffered any major head trauma other than watching Point Break a few weeks back; you can decide which of those is more depressing. As for me, I’m going to focus my depression on the Corning Glass Museum.

The Corning Museum of Glass is located in Corning, New York, and if your deductive reasoning skills are as sharp as most mammals, you’ll have figured out that it’s devoted to glass. I know, I know, you can barely stand the excitement! “An invisible museum!”, you’re probably thinking, like I was when I first heard about it. Unfortunately for us Wonder Woman fans, it’s a sad truth that not all glass is completely transparent. No, the Corning Glass Museum is a museum filled with glassworks and art, historical and otherwise. I’m pretty sure there was a section on lasers or something, but it’s hard to remember since I haven’t been there in over a decade.

The reason I bring it up is because of two thoughts that I had this morning. The first was:

How much was the suggested donation in the section of the Corning Glass Museum that had those blue dishes?

The second was:

Wait, who the fuck was I just talking to about the Corning Glass Museum?

Then I followed that one up with:

No, seriously, I swear to god I was just talking about the Corning Glass Museum with someone. Who the hell was it? Why were we talking about it? They may have been Chinese. I remember something about ‘Chinese’ that had to do with the museum.

I hate this. I hate this because I’m going to spend all damn day trying to figure out why the Corning Glass Museum was important enough to come up in conversation, a conversation that I had that I now feel left out of because I can’t remember any of it. It’s like my mind refuses to let me sit at the lunch table where all the cool kids sit and have my conversations about decorative glass. Instead of being able to have a productive day at work, I’ll be here googling stuff like “depression glass” and hoping for bells to ring, trying to retrace my steps and relive every conversation I’ve had in weeks where the museum could possibly have come up as a topic. Considering that all my friends are glass-blowers, this might take a while.

I’m going to have to get a Sharpie and start writing stuff down on my arms so that I don’t get so frustrated anymore.

Wait, who’s “John G.”?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 12th, 2006 at 10:06 am and is filed under Oh The Humanity!, Real Mystery!. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.