Like most people, I am possessed of a vivid imagination. And like most, I have a few regrets about my past actions and behaviors. Being a rather average person in most ways (though perhaps slightly above average in the brilliantly warped category), I harbor what must be a common fantasy about starting fresh due to permanent amnesia. This is, after all, the stuff of that great intellectual production, the Soap Opera.
The Soap Opera of my life would be called The Journal of Places to Be, just because I made that up when I was first in college and liked its combination of literary texture and sheer drama.
In the first episode, I would be in the hospital recovering from a serious car accident during which I suffered a bad concussion and a nasty broken nose. My nose is now recovering after being repaired then beautifully enhanced by a gifted plastic surgeon (and the other guy’s insurance had to pay! Bravo!). My brain is only damaged insofar as my memory of people; I have of course retained the ability to speak, read, walk, find the square root of 836, control bodily functions, and (most fortunately) perform music. Oddly, I have by some accident of fate (or maybe by osmosis) become an expert in database management.