The World of Stuff .com

Memorable

Yesterday I was at Turlington Plaza on campus, signing some petition, when one of the guys behind the table said he recognized me. He said he’d taken a class with me, a biology class a few years ago, and pointed in the general direction of the building where the class met. I didn’t recognize him at all, but he had to be right. I’ve only taken one biology class; it was BSC 2008 in Spring 2008. I was dumbfounded: How could anyone have remembered me, especially after all this time?

“I remember everyone I’ve ever had a class with,” he said.

Psh. I sure don’t. Even though our class wasn’t very large (or not many people showed up every day, I can’t remember which), I only remember two of my classmates because they were, well, memorable. One was a big guy who, with his Southern accent and ever-present baseball cap, would contribute to class discussions by mentioning something vaguely relevant about his family’s fish-farming operation. The other was a olive-skinned, short-haired brunette who would smile at me whenever our eyes met in class. She looked a few years older than me, so I feel like she should have graduated by now, but I swear I saw her pass by me on her bike a few months ago, and I think she even said hi.

That’s not what this post is about.

Today, I was eating lunch outside the library when a guy sitting nearby struck up a conversation with me. Using my name.

He said he remembered my name and face from this web site, which he had found while looking for information on how to connect to popular IRC servers from the dorms. (I used to have a small collection of information on the subject, but I took it offline because I thought no one cared. I was wrong!) He even remembered the URL, which he proved by showing me my home page on his iPad.

We started talking about my site, blogging, computers, clubs, and classes. We seemed to get along well. All the while, I was amazed. Sure, this kind of thing has happened before, but it still knocks my socks off. I’ve always dreamed of being a blogging celebrity, or blogebrity, and if a few people on this campus of 50,000 students know who I am because of this site, then who knows how many others recognize me but don’t bother to tell me?

And why does this happen? I guess I’m just a memorable-looking guy with a memorable name and a memorable web site that also has a memorable name. Like Southern Fish Guy and the girl I never talked to, I am memorable in my own way. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense.

Apparently it’s pretty common for college students to cheat by ordering custom-written essays on the Internet. One writer in the biz pseudonymously spills the beans about his shady profession, with details changed to protect the guilty.