I realize that, as the months speed by like days, some of my faculties are becoming… diminished? Is that the correct word? Diminished? Downgraded? Lessened? Reduced? Perhaps so-far-gone-it’s-as-if-they-never-existed would be a better choice. Perhaps many of us who are of increasing age are experiencing examples of Gee, I used to be able to do this… Or, Why did I come into this room?
On a slightly tangential note, there has rarely been evidence to the contrary regarding my rather limited intelligence. Mine has been a lifetime of one bone-headed decision after another. It is an extremely rare occurrence that any idea I may have spawned has left me in anything more than a confounded and bewildered state.
Pondering my limited and now diminishing intellect has this time been sparked by a note I found on my phone. It is a curious note in its own right. The fact that it could only have been placed there by me makes is all the more perplexing.
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In my younger days I attempted to follow the advice of writers who insisted that one must keep a notepad on the bedside table for recording any inspiration which would strike during the wee hours. There were times I would awaken with a flash of brilliance so profound that I knew I’d never forget it and would, therefore, not bother to make a note.
So, that having never worked, I eventually put a pad and pen on my bedside table. And in those instances of genius, I would grab the pad and pen and make a note, many times chuckling myself back to sleep. Of course, when retrieving the note the following morning, if by rare chance my writing was legible, the note made absolutely no sense. What the hell was I talking about?
But, with modern technology, I am given the opportunity to make notes on my phone. I have given up on the idea of making notes in the middle of the night and my brain has given up on providing flashes of brilliant insight into the workings of the cosmos. But, for the sake of this blog, I do use it to make notes during the day. Up until recently, those notes have helped to recall things I’ve wanted to share with you.
But today I was scrolling through my notes and came across one which has me baffled. It says:
Pop for the monster gravel finding soil sticky things I have a sugar drink
Yeah. I felt the same when I read it.
I cannot, for the life of me, figure why or for what possible reason I could have made that note. I wondered if Siri could have been listening to something I was saying and, as Siri is wont to do, completely misunderstood what I was saying. Except, there are no other notes that come close to the ridiculousness of this one, so I ruled out Siri.
I next wondered if this was some sort of insidious attempt at mind- or behavior-control by some corporate giant. I thought it might be a possibility, based upon how our concept of safety and personal privacy has devolved over the last few decades. Twenty years ago we were advised not to give out any personal information on the internet and definitely not go out and meet someone we didn’t know. Today we use that internet, via our smartphones, to summon a stranger to come to our house, pick us up and, getting into their car, have them drive us to our selected destination.
Twenty years ago we were concerned about Big Brother, our own government, putting some sort of listening device into our homes and spying on our privacy. Today we order and pay for a device on Amazon that we place in our homes and it listens to everything we say. And our phones do, as well! So, could my phone have been listening to something I said and, instead of just having an ad pop up the next time I went onto my computer, someone of nefarious motives had written this into my notes as a means of influencing me?
So, I googled the phrase. Pop for the monster gravel finding soil sticky things I have a sugar drink produced several sites about soil texture and properties; even hydroponics. As an aside, did you know that there is science behind sticky gumbo soil? I had no idea.
Since Google gave me no clue as to what that phrase could mean, I am left with the conclusion that I had something incredibly important so say about Pop for the monster gravel finding soil sticky things I have a sugar drink that I was absolutely compelled to share with you.
So, I am pleading with you. For the sake of what’s left of my diminishing sanity, if you have any idea what I could have meant; if by some infinitesimal chance you know what the heck this means; if, perhaps, I shared something with you about this at some time; please tell me. This is really exasperating to me…
