A good memory, some say it's a curse, others say it's a blessing. I say it's a cursed blessing.

Because I possess such a good memory, I would like to take the time to give a shout-out to all the people, places and situations that have carved a spot in my "cursed blessing."

To the man who took my mom and me to the hospital when I fell out of the car more than 20 years ago.

To the doctors in Foley, Ala., thanks for sewing up my busted head with those 14 stitches after that accident.

To my dad for making me laugh about that day by saying that's when my brains leaked out.

To my mom, thanks for not killing me the day I skipped school and wrecked the Jeep.

To my older brother, thanks for showing me that bruises and bite marks really do heal over time. Oh, and thanks for leaving me behind that day I fell asleep on the school bus.

To my sister for showing me how much I really do hate Barbie dolls and makeup.

To my younger brother for carrying a picture of me around in his wallet, or at least used to.

To my aunt for spoiling me, but also balancing that by occasionally forgetting my cousins and me at the mall, forcing us to page you. It really instilled independence in me.

To my grandma, thanks for showing me that Fruit Loops and cheese toast really can make a balanced meal. And thanks for threatening us with that magic stick we all knew didn't exist.

To one of my best friends for showing me that you dating my brother really wasn't the end of the world, even though it felt like it at the time.

To all of my family pets for showing me that animals really do belong outside.

To all of my high school soccer teammates for naming that wart on my toe Steve and writing him a "We'll Miss You" card when it was removed.

Thanks to all of my teachers for showing me the art of procrastination really can be perfected.

To my boyfriend, thanks for showing me that love really can suck, but it can be quickly healed with chocolate and massages.

To my step-grandpa for coming up with one of the most creative ways to make fun of my name.

To my older brother, once again, for making me realize the brown birthmark on my leg really isn't a poo-poo stain.

To the teacher and student in front of Memorial Gym who took care of me when I fainted after giving blood for the first (and last) time.

To my friend, Missy, thanks for forgiving me for breaking your nose, although you should have been buckled in.

To Archie Comics, thanks for keeping me company at our beach house in Gulf Shores, Ala., when the TV was off-limits.

To all my friends who got suspended from the school bus because you hung out the window and yelled, "Happy Birthday" to me as you sped past my bus stop. Thanks.

Thanks to "Seinfeld" for teaching me the phrase, "No soup for you," among others.

To Elvis, The Beatles, The Mamas and the Papas and Simon and Garfunkel for reminding me there really were more innocent times.

Thanks to all the reality shows for making me feel less shallow every time I tune in.

And finally, to my whole family, thanks for showing me the curse of homesickness really is a blessing and never really goes away; but on some levels, I never really want it to.

Rhiannon Weber is a senior journalism major from Prairieville and serves as a news editor for The Tech Talk.