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9:46 a.m.
2002-05-01
What's that Number Again?
47.
Just a random number, no? Someone's age, perchance? The number of times one has done something (written a paper, danced down the street, had sex in a dressing room)?
Nope. Just a number.
A number that Professor Havlik, my psych professor, told us specifically not to remember. And ever since then, it's just kept popping up in my head. Out of the blue, I'll think, "Hmm...wonder why Barbara told us not to remember the number 47..."
It's been driving me crazy.
I asked her after psych lecture today what the point of that was. She said that it was kind of a reverse psychology thing--you tell someone not to remember something, and they ultimately do. I proved that straight out. *sighs* I'm going to remember the number 47 just randomly for the rest of my life, methinks. On my wedding day, just as I'm supposed to say "I do," I'm going to say "Forty-seven."
I'm going to kick Barbara Havlik.
Quote for the Day: "I finally figured out the only reason to be alive is to enjoy it." --Rita Mae Brown