Trivial Pursuit

While driving today, I suddenly was struck, almost jolted from a memory as distant as the sun, yet shackled to me like an ill-fitting sweater. Well, maybe it wasn't one recollection but an amalgamation of many; from my youth until this very day exactly. You see I am forgetful. In my own defense, I shall note that my 'forgetfulness' is not of the order of intellectual and retention capacities. No, retaining information is what I consider virtuous and an idiosyncratic propitiosity (if that's a word . . . which it isn't, but you get my drift) What I am in attempts to convey, for the readers' esteemed inference is that quite simply and withholding superfluous pontification, is that I think a lot. I mean all the time. And with a myriad of facets of my treasured intellectual spirit, I think about copious amounts of junk—good junk, chiefly.
Ab ovo, I've been this way; although over time my interests have evolved and transmogrified; waxed and waned; above all it is my hope and desire that my sophistication is abound in perpetuity. Superficial-knowledge, irrelevant-knowledge, and knowledge-knowledge—I devour it.
When I watch Jeopardy or play Trivial Pursuit, I want to answer every question. Call it capricious, pedantic or the sine qua non of egoism, that's how I am.
My reputation for absent mindedness was so thoroughly known (is that ironic or oxymoronic?) that in my kindergarten days I played the lead role of 'Forgetful Fred', in our class play. The paradox about that is that I managed to remember all my lines without incident. My issue is with tasks. You know, daggamit, there's just far too many of them.