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One of these days...
Jan. 14th, 2012 06:10 pmOne of the nice things about having another telephone in the house (other than my own cell phone) is the ability to call my phone to track down its whereabouts. (The fact that Galina's cell is on the same network is a plus, too.) Today, when I had used her phone to find mine, I gave it back to her with a formal little bow while performing my, um, inimitable (and quite forgettable) rendition of the first line of Danke Shoen.
In response to her raised eyebrows, I smiled and said "I'm just having..."—and for some seconds could not recall, but eventually did—"...a Wayne Newton moment!" And we had a little laugh.
Or was it also what is popularly called a "senior moment," these days?
I'd entertain that thought if the same kind of thing hadn't been happening over many years. And in each case, what I had noticed—but never really thought much about—is how my process of recall in these situations generally proceeds along two major axes.
The first is where I put the "question" out of my mind and press on with whatever I am doing. Invariably, the "answer" will pop into my head later, and though I've never kept a record of time intervals between question and answer, I'd estimate the "lag" at anywhere between a few hours and a couple of days. And most of the time, the answer just pops into my head while I'm not doing anything in particular.
The second is where I can recall the "shape" of the words I need while I'm trying to recall the answer, i.e., I can't recall the thing, but do recall the letters of the associated name for the thing, and in many cases, the approximate length and number of syllables as well. It was like that today with Wayne Newton's name.
Dig it: A second or two after the name failed to materialize in my head, the the letter "N" popped into my consciousness, not as an image, but as a something identifiable as an "N." It was followed a second or two later by a vocalized "W" that made no specific sound, but was nonetheless perceived as a vocalization.
Then, while I wondered what to do with that information, I heard "woon" inside my head, followed by variations on that structure in which the vowel sound kept changing, until—upon hearing "wean"—Wayne Newton's name popped into my consciousness.
As mentioned, this phenomenon is likely not simply a harbinger of the onset of age, as similar experiences have occurred to me since just about ever, at least as far back as my college years. And if I ever get some extra time, it'd be interesting to do some more digging along these lines and find out more about it.
* * * Scandal in Belgravia is the lead-off to the second season of Sherlock, and I found it a fairly demanding script to follow in terms of plot and the multiple "who is doing what to whom" threads. Much remains unresolved (not necessarily a bad thing if not overdone), and there were places where I wasn't quite sure how resolutions served to resolve.
Still, it did keep my attention to the end, and that's what counts, isn't it?
Cheers...
In response to her raised eyebrows, I smiled and said "I'm just having..."—and for some seconds could not recall, but eventually did—"...a Wayne Newton moment!" And we had a little laugh.
Or was it also what is popularly called a "senior moment," these days?
I'd entertain that thought if the same kind of thing hadn't been happening over many years. And in each case, what I had noticed—but never really thought much about—is how my process of recall in these situations generally proceeds along two major axes.
The first is where I put the "question" out of my mind and press on with whatever I am doing. Invariably, the "answer" will pop into my head later, and though I've never kept a record of time intervals between question and answer, I'd estimate the "lag" at anywhere between a few hours and a couple of days. And most of the time, the answer just pops into my head while I'm not doing anything in particular.
The second is where I can recall the "shape" of the words I need while I'm trying to recall the answer, i.e., I can't recall the thing, but do recall the letters of the associated name for the thing, and in many cases, the approximate length and number of syllables as well. It was like that today with Wayne Newton's name.
Dig it: A second or two after the name failed to materialize in my head, the the letter "N" popped into my consciousness, not as an image, but as a something identifiable as an "N." It was followed a second or two later by a vocalized "W" that made no specific sound, but was nonetheless perceived as a vocalization.
Then, while I wondered what to do with that information, I heard "woon" inside my head, followed by variations on that structure in which the vowel sound kept changing, until—upon hearing "wean"—Wayne Newton's name popped into my consciousness.
As mentioned, this phenomenon is likely not simply a harbinger of the onset of age, as similar experiences have occurred to me since just about ever, at least as far back as my college years. And if I ever get some extra time, it'd be interesting to do some more digging along these lines and find out more about it.
Still, it did keep my attention to the end, and that's what counts, isn't it?
Cheers...
