I have a brain damage exam (for the class, not my brain. Although my brain is involved) on friday. Therefore, this post qualifies as studying.
I have mild prosopagnosia. I don't think it was acquired, I think I'm just like this. Actually, I think it's genetic, but in my mom the same deficiency (in the same area of the brain) gives her a terrible sense of direction.
Anyway, usually this facial-recognition deficit means I don't think I know people that I should know. Ask me how many times I introduced myself to Kyle, or Josh from the fourth floor, or Josh who is Benny's roommate, or countless other people whose names I still don't know. By introduction three, they generally give me a look like, "Are you joking right now?" and I realize that I probably should know who this person is.
(This is why I tend to introduce myself by saying "I'm not sure we've met." It introduces an opportunity for my interlocutor to say, "We have.")
It also means I'm bad at telling similar-looking people apart. For at least two years, I was convinced that Andrew R. and Alexander K. were the same person (If you went to my school and know who these people are, it will make sense to you. If you don't, know that they're both average height and have dark hair). Worse, I couldn't distinguish Paul and Brendan (the only two black kids in my third grade class) for at least a semester, and everyone called me a racist, and it wasn't true, I swear. If my third grade self had known that prosopagnosia was a real thing, I would have said something about it (smugly, I presume. That was my third grade self in a nutshell.) but I just thought that, oh no, maybe I was secretly racist.
Cameron and Russell gave me a way out of this. Cameron and Russell were two kids on my bus in the class a few grades below me. Both had older sisters. Both were of average height. Both had hair that was on the darker side of blonde. I could not distinguish them to save my life when I was younger. Eventually, I think Cameron said, "Look, I have a red backpack and Russell has a blue one. Figure it out."
And so I developed compensatory operations. I could tell Alexander from Andrew by their voices (going to a school where everyone wore uniforms didn't help). Paul was just a little shorter than Brendan. And so it goes. I tend to recognize people based on what they wear and how they carry themselves (apparently the neural pathway that processes expressions and emotions was fine, because I actually rely on particular people's expressions to distinguish them) and the sounds of their voices, and context.
Where I'm going with this is that sometimes my compensatory operations lead me to believe that I do know someone that I really don't.
Exempli gratia: I had this great idea the other day in the Ratty to get a piece of bread and drizzle french onion soup over it. While I was standing there dealing with my soup, a girl of below average height, with dark hair, wearing black, approached to get some soup of her own. She fit the profile of a girl named Tiffany, who is from england, and whom I've met enough times that we could certainly make small talk over soup.
Me: I'm not sure this plan is going to work.
Girl: [In what is very much not a British accent] That's a good idea though! That's the best part about french onion soup!
Me: I hope so!
Girl: Maybe I'll try it!
Now I'm thinking, I've never met that girl before, but I have made a new friend and she now has a new idea in her head about soup.
Hooray for brain dysfunction!
Clara
P.S. Usually that conversation goes something like this.
Me: Hey.
Person: [Questioning look]
Me: Oh, you're not who I thought you were.
Person: [Very questioning look]
Me: Sorry...
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