The Grapes (and grains) of Regret.

If we can't remember enjoyable evenings e.g. because of intoxication, does that make it less valuable?  If I wake up happy but can't remember specifically why, does that matter, should it matter and in what way would this matter?

As I've gotten a little older, I've started to forget things. I can't really remember senior school.  I have snapshot memories, I know the events that took place, I know I found it al reasonably unpleasant in a banal kind of way but I can't really remember it.

I worry about this.  I worry that I will start to forget the good times I've had.  I worry that I make this worse by getting slaughtered nearly every time I do.  The first couple of hours are memorable, the second couple less so and goodness knows what happens at the end (although the last occasion left the clues of a well-broken wine glass, discarded cherry-flavoured cigarillos and a picture of my workmate wearing my most fun outdoor wear).

Generally this kind of night instils a warm fuzzy feeling of knowing that I Hung Out and that we Did Stuff.

It seems to be enough.  I do it over and over.  I sometimes have this niggling feeling that I'm missing out though.  Time spent with my boyfriend generally ends when my body decides, rather than my mind chooses.  This leads to a sub-question of control and choice as relates to value and enjoyment.  Well, it's not a question, it's more a fact (yep, that's right, I'm pulling out the certainty - go on, challenge me) - we don't enjoy things we haven't chosen to do.

Perhaps it's a question of happiness vs. contentment.  Getting trousered may make me happy in the short-term but doesn't lead to long-term contentment because it removes my higher goals of having lived a good life (which requires one to remember it to know it) by approaching the lower goals of having had a good week via the easiest method of getting trousered with some people I trust.

On the other hand, most of my memories are fuzzy, regardless of intoxicant use.  Unless I'm doing something outstanding and therefore memorable, it all rather blends into the same kind of thing.  So perhaps my concerns about getting hamstered are more to do with morality - I feel that I didn't do the best thing with my evening, I did something Bad.  I let go of my rationality, risked my health, wasted my money.  And to return to the start, risked my memories that I imagine will sustain me when I am an old, alone lady.

New tack:  If memories aren't important, why do we put so many of them on Facebook?  Or conversely, has Facebook risen to fill the void left by our refusal to abstain from getting totally bucketed despite memories being central to our social functioning?  Is it just about social display; Look I Have Friends And We Do Stuff?  Actually, it probably is more that because you can just keep your photos to yourself or email them between you.  Never mind....

So which is it?  Why is getting utterly spannered to the point of memory loss becoming a questionable activity?  Value, nostalgia, choice, health, guilt, sin?  Shaking off the 90s mandate of being Mad For It at all times?  I can just about deal with the hangover and the financial imposition (only just). It's something else. Thoughts on a virtual post-card below, lovies.

TL;DR?  Just about any noun in English can be used as a euphemism for getting very drunk as long as you put -ed on the end.

I don't think there's really an answer to this one...

At my hospital, our computer records system requires that we ask the patient their ethnic category.  This is a point of contention and embarassment for all concerned.  Mostly, it passes without any significant event.  You can make this process run smoothly in two ways.

If  you're a square-peg-jammed-in-a-round-hole of a receptionist, you can circumvent this by putting 'Patient Declined' or making the executive decision that they are White-British ( which is generally a fair assumption).  I think this is naughty for two reasons.

A) it impacts on patient care which is our primary concern - different ethnic groups have differing possibilities of suffering from different conditions and b) its bloody weak of you.  Come on.  I know it's embarrassing and I know people get a shirty look in their eye but it's your job, it's not YOU asking it, it is your clerical persona asking it.

Another way is to just be socially intelligent and ask in a chilled-out way.  I've worked with  another person who just managed to do this really well, I can't quite pinpoint how she did it but I suspect it came from her being alright with the concept of ethnic category in general.  She didn't have any underlying anxiety vibe of 'Oh God the FORRINERS' and she understood and agreed it was for patient care, not because of NuLieBORE.

But anyway....

What I am more interested in is why the question of asking someone's ethnic background is so embarrassing.  There's definitely fear and there's definitely embarrassment.  I don't look forward to doing it but just hide behind a bright and breezy asking that brings about compliance through a 'this-is-totally-normal-and-we're-all-fine-with-it-aren't-we?-I-mean-I-am-aren't-you?' attitude.

There's so much here to unpick.  Perhaps you are scared of seeming vaguely, somehow, racist.  Racism is such a central subject now that to even partly approach the question of race must mean that you judge people by the colour of their skin.  Of course, in this scenario, you are judging someone on the basis of their skin colour for the purposes of patient care and with a good end in mind so you know what option to choose in the little box rather than taking it as an opportunity to put someone to the bottom of the appointment list, refuse to shut the drafty window and not aid them in finding the toilet and cafe due to their ethnicity.

Maybe you're scared of appearing like some kind of government lackey who has abandoned all common sense and that the Daily Mail types will scoff at you.

Maybe you dislike living in a world where this kind of thing is even a concern.

Maybe you're scared that the people you ask will give you hassle for asking.  Fortunately, the height of aggro I have received so far has been 'I'm ENGLISH, not British' to which one laughs politely through gritted teeth, waves them off, checks on Wikipedia and in true esprit d'escalier/wage slave form, wishes you could yell after them' Yes, well, technically Madam, you're BOTH'.

Maybe..... Oh God, I don't know.  Maybe this is too big and varied a question, especially for a blog post.

I think, on the face of it, it's a desire to avoid hassle and being obliquely intrusive.

What do you think? Is asking ethnicity all that embarrassing? Is it embarrassing when someone asks you your ethnicity?