Something Has Gone Wrong

I think something is wrong with my brain. This is not a drill, people - I'm actually concerned for the wiring in my head. Or maybe the bloodflow? I don't know what exactly, but I search my face for signs of stroke every day. F.A.S.T. baby - face, arms, speech, and time! That last one isn't a symptom (I don't know what that would entail - losing the ability to tell time? That's probably more serious than a silly ol' stroke, dontcha think?), it just means that if you're having stroke symptoms YOU HAVE NO TIME. As the National Stroke Association website informs me, "Call 911 or get to the hospital fast. Brain cells are dying." Yikes.

So let me tell you why I'm on stroke alert. A couple months ago, I went in to sign my new employee contract, all optimistic and starry-eyed, full of the hope that I would soon be on my way to making six figures while only working part-time. Oh, two-months-younger-Hattie, you're so cute and naive. Anyways, in the course of filling out these forms, I had to write in my social security number. I'm hopefully not exposing myself to identity theft when I tell you that my SSN starts with a 5. (OK fine, since you'll probably figure it out based on that information, yes. Yes, I AM Jessica Alba. SUWA's veil of anonymity has been lifted. Now let's move on.) Why did I tell you that seemingly rando factoid? Because when I went to write the 5, I realized I didn't know how. I realize that sounds weird, but bear with me - it's even weirder than you think. First I wasn't sure in which direction the 5 was pointing. I kept trying to picture it and I could not for the life of me figure it out.

At this point, I started to get seriously concerned that I was going to have to go back to the HR lady and  confess that I was physically unable to write down my SSN, but that I would still very much like to be hired despite the clear signs of advancing Alzheimer's. I mean, I'm sure everyone has an embarrassing experience like that at some point in their lives, but I was really hoping it wouldn't happen quite this soon.  Luckily, some student had left their scrap paper behind, and I found a 5 that I could use for reference. Then a second problem arose: I have NO idea how I write 5's. Do I do the top crossbar first and then the bottom? Do I do the bottom then the top? Do I make it in one stroke like a funky-shaped "s"? This is a literal transcription of the thoughts running through my head. I was sitting there paralyzed for about 2 minutes while I was trying to write a 5. To this day, if I actively think about writing a 5, I get kind of confused.

To be honest, as ridiculous and vaguely aliens-kidnapped-me-anal-probed-me-then-brainwashed-me-esque this was, I probably would have just let it go and not been overly concerned. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, how many times will I have to write 5s in my life? Only a few million, right? Big f-ing deal, I can adjust. However, the other day I had a new "my brain is broken" experience that weirded me out yet again. We were at trivia, and naturally the conversation devolved to the point where Harester told me to draw something and I created a kindergarten sketch of whatever was requested. Here's how that ended:

Harester: "Draw a cow!" (Technically she said "the nitrogen cycle" - it's a long story.) In case you can't remember, a cow (as I can draw it) looks a-like a-this:

Hattie: "Oh man, I can't remember how to draw a cow! Oh well, I'll give it a shot."

Hattie draws a pig. (Which I didn't think I could draw, either.) Seriously, this is what came out:

I was really really trying to draw a cow. I don't know how it happened, I was thinking about a cow and all of a sudden I looked down and there was this cute little piggy smiling up at me. Why the face? Obviously some crazy circuits have gotten crossed in my brain. Seriously, what happened? What's next, I forget how to tie my shoes and have to use Velcro? 

Now, I've read my share of Oliver Sacks. I know that weird things like this happen to people all the time and it's usually a lot worse. And sometimes they just go away, and sometimes you just have to learn to live with it. Unfortunately, I've also watched much much more than my fair share of House, and if I've learned anything from that show it's that Hugh Laurie is a master of his art. But ALSO I've discovered that tiny little problems often mean that you have parasites swimming in your bone marrow or your cat has fleas that are secretly giving you cancer. So now I don't know whether to freak the f*** out and run to the hospital or call OS and be like "Hey buddy, have I got a weird little story for your next book?" Either way, if I suddenly start typing "flibbertigibbet" instead of "the," maybe it's time to call in the professionals. Keep your eyes peeled for signs of more trouble...