The other night my wife was telling me about how one of our cats gave her strange looks while she was doing yoga. I made some comment about it not being able to tell if she was doing “downward-facing dog or mutant-looking cat”. My wife laughed and pointed out that “downward-facing dog” really is a yoga position and wondered how I knew, considering I’ve never done any yoga. I told her it was probably something I picked up from a “Dharma & Greg” episode.
I’ve long been a font of useless information. I can remember the names of yoga positions I’ve never done (or even seen), but forget to take the muffins out of the oven even with two timers set. I could tell you who was the production designer for “The Empire Strikes Back”, but not the name of the guy in Data Warehousing I’m having a meeting with next week.
It occurred to me, however, that while I may remember weird stuff, it’s not necessarily useless information. I’m a writer, after all, and I keep hearing how writers are supposed to know a little bit about everything. If that’s the case, then…well, that’s me! I’m perpetually curious, and constantly cramming my head with seemingly pointless factoids. I am the very model of a modern major general.
Not that my recall is exactly flawless, mind you. I can still get beaten fairly handily in trivia games. Usually my storehouse of useless data refuses to cough up the right information when the pressure’s on. Rather it leaks out at odd times, or times when it’s not important and people will generally think I’m weird to remember something like that. In short, it’s not even useful to liven up a cocktail party or floundering conversation.
It’s Norman Reynolds, by the way. I know you’re dying to ask me that.
But yes, I suppose it does have its uses, and writing is one of them. Now I just need to figure out a few more practical applications…