I love it when I’m the only one in the room who remembers something. Who sees what others don’t.
Ok, no.
Because then everyone thinks I’m the weirdo.
I’ve got plenty of other things that’ll prove that, but “remembering things that never happened” isn’t one of them.
I had told my folks that Bob Einstein, of Super Dave Osborne fame, had died.
“Who?” they asked.
“You know, Super Dave Osborne? That one stuntman character you told me about as a kid? We had that one neighbor you made fun of for mowing his lawn every day? And you called him Super Dave? Because of Super Dave Osborne? Right? Guys?”
Blank stares.
Not this again.
I think I ended up getting pissed about this, because this was a closed loop memory. I’d never heard nor seen of Super Dave Osborne outside of them telling me. And I never looked him up thereafter. Had no reason to.
But since they all didn’t remember and I did, this meant it probably didn’t happen.
But it did.
I have loathed this about The Life Autistic.
Sometimes you’re like a fated prophet, a loony seer, the only one cursed with memory.
And weird for seeing and remembering things that “didn’t happen.”
If no one else sees it and none else remember; we don’t count.
“Well, that’s cute, H2. It happens, but luckily it’s innocent.”
Yeah, not always.
As a frontline worker, I saw something telling in our call routing, where I could spot this particular imbalance in our routing, availability, and other boring stuff.
Of course, I’m the only one who saw this, got what it meant. I explained what I saw to my managers and . . .
Blank stares.
In one of my favorite Infinity War quotes, Thanos remarks: “You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.”
Why?
Because we know what more of a terrible thing it is when you are the only one cursed with knowledge.
The Life Autistic 