Jennifer Love Hewitt’s first name is, actually, “Love.”
Why do I know that?
No, really: why? I don’t know where I learned that, or why, but I know that. I’m not a fan of hers, nor a detractor. I can’t be, I’ve never really seen her in anything, except maybe about 40 minutes of I Know What You Did Last Summer. I think she was on a TV show that might have been about ghosts? Or something? So, why does my brain hold on to that tidbit of quasi-information?
I’ve always been one of those people who know a lot of seemingly random information, but usually there’s some context, some reason. I can think of virtually no scenario in which I’d need to know that.
She shot a movie where I live once, and I think she lived here for a while at some point. So, I suppose it could have been handy then, in case I bumped in to her and we got talking, and I said, “That’s an interesting point, Miss Hewitt.” And she said, “Please. You can call me Love.” In that case I could say, “Oh, okay; how kind. I will do that, since that’s your name. Thank you.” Instead of saying, “Oh, can I? Can I call you Love? And you can call me ‘Om Mani Padme Hum,’ you ridiculous Hollwood-hippie. Fuck off with you.”
But her being physically located near me is in the past. So this scenario is highly improbable.
So, then, again: Why does my brain hold on to this tidbit? Shouldn’t there be a little censor, developed through eons of filtering useful information? It took me years to remember my friend Mark’s phone number. Years. I lose my wallet every day. I had to come up with a handy mnemonic to remember my blood type, for God’s sake. Shouldn’t the brain have evolved to decide what’s important? If two people are bleeding to death, Darwinism suggests that the one who knows his blood type should live, and the one who know that George Clooney’s hair is naturally curly, but that he has it straightened can die.
Yet when something conveyed to me Jennifer Love Hewitt’s birth surname, nothing in my brain said, “That’s mildly interesting, but totally unnecessary to continued survival or enrichment.” Maybe even worse? If someone ever says, “Did you know ‘Love’ is actually Jennifer Love Hewitt’s first name?” I’ll have to reply, “Yes. Yes, I did know that. That is a fact I already knew.” And that’d just be sad.
So where am I going with this? Nowhere, I suppose. But I guess I do wonder: is this a weird thing about the brain/my brain? Or is this something sad about our society, that celebrity tidbits stick more than, say, world events or important details of my own life?
Is it just me? What weird things does your brain hold on to?