Has Anyone Seen the Patron Saint of Lost Passwords?
At 2 a.m., I was lying in bed, snuggled beneath my weighted blanket,* Googling whether people’s nipples have unique prints. You know, the way fingerprints and snowflakes do? I still don’t have a definitive answer for you, but I did learn many strange things about the human nipple. It turns out, my bio-brother’s third one isn’t so rare. This intel could come in handy for future journalism assignments.
What unleashed this whacked-out train of thought? It all started yesterday when I tried to log into my Wix account to build a new website. Key word: tried. I get so furious with my brain’s inability to remember passwords. I forgot it and had to create a new one. UGH!
I cannot begin to tell you the instant, white-hot rage I feel — hotter than a syphilitic whore in a ghost pepper patch — whenever I get locked out of some online account because I cannot remember the frickin’ password. (Yes, I’m dialing down the eff-bombs for Lent, but I’m still imperfect.) I’ve never had hot flashes, but from what my friends describe, and from what I’ve witnessed, that is how hot I get.
When I lie in bed at night, I think about my day. And then I over-think. I think about everything I did that provides evidence that I still suck. I’m a long way from ascending that tippy top triangle of Maslow’s Hierarchy -- that magical moment I level up to Self- Actualization. The very best-est version of me. So, I lie there recalling my unforced errors, getting pissed at myself all over again.
Around 1:45 a.m., the Wix website debacle popped back into my head, along with the rage and all the feelz…and that’s what triggered my problem-solving mode — that uniquely left-field, ADHD way of thinking about things that no A.I. bot could ever dare claim they compete with. I thought:
Could I just submit my unique nipple print to some digital passkey, and use THAT as my password to unlock everything in my universe? (And if the ink was orange, would it be a “CHEESE NIP”?)
I’m not declaring it a better way of thinking. Just that A.I. wouldn’t have thought of this. A.I. would’ve suggested thumb prints or eyeball scans. But not moi! No, this was my very human, very weird ADHD thought at 1:45 a.m. My brain travels to the most outlandish roleplays for every problem.
Whenever I get that “incorrect password” error, I just wanna throw my phone through the wall to release some physical expression of my anger in a satisfying way. (Hey, I get why axe-throwing got so popular.) Luckily, some part of my brain has just barely enough of a governor switch remaining to rein me in.
Low frustration tolerance is an evidence-based, uniquely ADHD and autist challenge. I feel the same impatient rage for long lines, superficial conversations, and hard-to-open anything.
If we all end up using those REAL ID cards, couldn’t they just add some QR code for me to flash at my computer screen — instead of my CHEESE NIP — to log into everything?
Is there some Catholic statue I can bury in my front yard to bless this Lost & Found Department in my defective brain?
IS THERE a Patron Saint of Lost Passwords?
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