Monday, November 16, 2009
say my name.
Krista. Apparently it’s a difficult name to remember. Probably due to the excessive number of syllables, unconventional pairing of vowels and consonants, and the surprise A at the end. Whatever the reasons, people feel much more comfortable using Christy, Kristen, Crystal, or Sharon. I will be standing in a group of 12 people where everyone’s name is remembed but then they come to me and its….just…to…difficult. I went to church with a girl for 3 years and after a plethora of introductions and interactions, my last conversation with her was her confidently asking, “it’s Ashley, right?” Nope. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my face is evidently forgettable as well. Sure I’ll give you “I’m just bad with names,” but “sorry, I’m just terrible at remembering people I’ve met 6 times,” is not going to slide so easily. I mean, I’ve met boys who after hanging out, people inform me they are interested yet a couple weeks later there is no recollection when we meet again. At first I would pretend to not remember people I had met so that I didn’t come across as a freak that remembers names and encounters. Then I realized that they are the freaks and it is my social obligation to make them consciously aware of this fact. And I will tell you that it feels good.
The problem now is John has a face that whether people have met him or not, they remember him on first glance. This very fact was perfectly exemplified earlier this year on our way to Portland. So through various unfortunate events, I ended up spending part of Christmas Eve with this certain, undisclosed family. I have known their son Nate for sometime, I know their daughter-in-law pretty well from Thailand, and the family is old friends with my best friend’s family. All this aside, let’s remember it was Christmas eve, a day people tend to remember. Now, fast forward a few months later when John and I were walking down the aisle of the plane. I sit down without interruption and when I turn around, John is yacking it up with some joker. The conversation was something like, “hey, John Malfatto, right? I met you once 4 years ago, you lived with my son Nate for like 2 minutes, blah blah blah.” No mind to the girl who spent one of the bigger holidays of the year at his home. This is my life. And after tying the committal knot with old Malfatto, I will now only be recollected because of my significant other. I think I’d rather be forgotten then remembered because of someone else's face.
The point is, if you are cognizant of your general apathy towards remembering, I don’t know, people then stop hiding behind the ‘not good with names’ excuse and learn to actually pay attention when you ask someone their name. And I’m stepping off my soapbox.
Posted by Krista