I don't remember my first alcoholic drink, but there are pictures of me as a toddler in the family photo album slurping from bottles of beer, glasses of wine and such.

I don't remember my first glass of milk, koolaid, soda or my first cup of coffee.

I don't remember the first time I saw a rainbow, bird, flower or butterfly, but I am so glad I can truly appreciate these things today.

I don't remember when we didn't have to tell our children to not take candy from strangers.

I don't remember when gas only cost $.50 a gallon.

I don't remember things less than those I wish I could forget.
This is a timed writing exercise. Begin with the words "I don't remember" and go from there. Whenever you get stuck, return to the words "I don't remember." 10 minutes.

i don't remember what my grandfather's voice sounded like. he was a good man as far as i know. he tried to make up for my father's absence but how much could he do without making his own son look bad? he constantly gave me gifts; so often that i expected it. i hope he didn't think badly of me for that. i thought he would be around forever.

i don't remember the name of my first AD&D character, but i know he was half-orc, and a good fighter. the dungeon master asked what the other half was and i said "only human".

i don't remember the first time i thought thoughts of true love.

i don't remember why i thought it would be cool to do this writing exercise. i'm glad it's almost over.

I don't remember what it was like to be in a relationship that didn't involve sex. Those scandalous moments in grade school when you held hands or maybe even got your first kiss with someone while subjected to all the gossip. Even those relationships that came later, during puberty, with a few awkward fumblings all the while a little scared of the potential of this thing I was doing, kissing this person downstairs in my parent's basement.
I have a friend who had a white wedding, with all that entails. To be honest, in this day and age, it mystified me even while I applauded her decision. In fact, the man she married was a roommate I introduced her to, in part because he was the only man I knew who would respect that particular decision. He wasn't a virgin when they married, but I suppose traditionally speaking that is common as well. Still, although I knew that they, um, did other things (said with all the shy embarassment one might expect from someone talking about their parents having sex) it was a source of endless amazement that these people, so in love, so wonderful together, didn't consummate their union. It occasionally made me regret my decision to not wait. After all, they were the happy couple, not me.

Applause to those who made similar choices.

Ten minutes is far too short once you get started on something.

I don't remember my first days on Everything. I can think of noding action, which was my first node, but that's all I can ever remember. I know my first nodes were stupid; they are undeveloped and not as well thought out as I would like to think my nodes are now (like cum dumpster and bloody mess; ut ut).

I don't remember Grandma Stolte. I knew her, but I can't remember a damned thing about her. All I know is that it was another cancer case, and the hospital was eerily comforting.

I don't remember what is was like to eat homemade American food every night against my will, dodging pork chops and fillet mignon.

I don't remember not knowing her. I don't remember not knowing many people. I don't remember not knowing him, or her, or him. I do remember, however, how much less full I was before I knew them all. They have added to me; they have improved me.

I don't remember how it felt to not have felt that. It is such a wonderful feeling that I'm glad I don't remember the lack. It is so different from anything else. It's so good.

I don't remember my life before the Internet. I remember playing some Doom 2 on the 486, and I remember BBSes with hyperterminal on my 9600 modem that only connected at 2400, but I don't remember any other use for a computer without Internet access.

I don't remember being literally antisocial. I should, because it wasn't that long ago really. Empty friendships I guess.

I don't remember what I started with in this writeup, nor do I remember what time I started. I think I'm finishing a bit early.

I don't remember the exact momemnt he kissed me. I remember every other little detail about the night, I remember the kiss was amazing, but I don't remember how we got from talking to kissing.

I don't remember my phone number from anywhere I have previously lived, except for the number of the house I grew up in.

I don't remember what it was like to rely on anyone else.

I don't remember what it was like before I was so afraid.

I don't remember when the last time I saw my father was. I don't know if I knew then it was the last time I'd see him.
I don't remember much about my childhood. Sometimes little bits and pieces come back to me and I can't be sure how accurate my memory is. The earliest memory which I feel certain about is being pushed under trees in my pram. The sun shone through the leaves, and patters of shadow danced across me. I couldn't put this into words at the time, because I was perhaps four or five months old, but it is an experience which has stayed with me to this day. Sometimes when I walk under trees, I still look up at the swaying motion of the branches, with the sun glinting between green-black leaves.

I don't remember exactly when I lost my mind. In fact, I doubt if I ever did. But as a primary (elementary) school student I spent some time in a special educational facility. I remember clearly the greeting the other kids gave me on my first day. Two of them held me down while four or five others hit me with fists, feet, stones. I became a recluse. I started using the computers in the facility to write stories, and the stories were taken, analysed and presented as examples of my psychological abnormality. I also got really good at pool.

I don't remember what my friend Barbour used to look like. We were pretty close in primary school, until I was sent away. I didn't see him for years, until I met him in the line for tickets to the Red Hot Chili Peppers gig. We caught up with old times, heading to Rufus T. Firefly for drinks, then on to the Solid Rock Café where Barbour discovered absinthe.

I don't remember what I was thinking on that beautiful summer day. I remember the scene in perfect clarity. I was in the back seat of my mother's white Fiat Punto. We had just picked up my dad from his office. The summer holidays were approaching. I had a can of Pepsi Max in my hand, having been curious to try this new sugar free cola. My sister had a can as well. I remember all this, but I don't remember what I was thinking in the moments before a truck smashed into the side of the car, spinning it around on the motorway like a child's toy. It seemed to take forever for us to stop. Every time the car spun it cracked off the front of the truck. The window shattered and I was showered with glass. I could feel the heat coming through the grill-plate covering the truck's engine, inches away from my face.

I don't remember the name of the guy I had breakfast with at the HAL 2001 convention. He was staying just up the road from the con, in the same hotel as my father and I. Yes, my dad went to HAL. But anyway, the mystery guy was pretty cool. He said he was studying in Germany. We were surprised to hear that his education was costing him slightly less than our house.

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