How I Stopped Forgetting Birthdays

A few years ago I ran across an organizational system called Getting Things Done. Broadly speaking, it’s a framework for getting more done - or just feeling less overwhelmed. Hence the very direct, on-the-nose name.

I don’t want this blog to turn into a water carrier for the productivity industry, but as someone who’s dabbled in a truly unreasonable number of ways to stay on task, I’ll say this: at least for me - and I really want to underscore that because these systems are highly match-dependent - Getting Things Done (a.k.a GTD) is the one that expanded my capacity the most while simultaneously shrinking my stress the most. Feel free to call that an endorsement, and check GTD out if you’re curious.

But I’m not here to convince you to adopt the whole system just because I use it. What I am trying to do is sell you on one specific tenet of it. There’s one piece of GTD I think everyone should steal, no matter what.

Wow, Liquid Brain Dude??

The first and arguably most important step in GTD capturing everything. David Allen (dude who created GTD) calls it a “liquid brain.”

The idea is simple: the moment you have the thought 'Wow, I should remember/look up/research/buy/sell/paint/explore [literally anything]…' you don’t leave that floating around in your head.

You write it down. Immediately. Somewhere that isn’t your squishy, unreliable, buzzing human brain.

Then comes the second part - the routine where you later review what you captured and sort it into a few buckets:

• Don’t worry about it.
• Do it and schedule it.
• Store the information somewhere you’ll actually find it again.

This sounds small, almost too simple, but I can’t overstate how helpful it’s been for me. It’s like I found the knob that turns down the background static in my mind. Even better, it dampened a very specific type of anxiety I used to feel - the low-grade mosquito-in-the-room hum of I’m definitely forgetting something.

Because 90 percent of that hum was exactly that: the fear I’d forget, or not act, or drop the ball on something tiny but important.

The Part Where the Title Finally Pays Off

Here’s where the title comes back into play - and if you’re someone who loves when movies say the title of the movie in the movie, you should be losing your mind right now.

This whole capture-and-review habit means I never forget a birthday anymore.
I used to be like many of us: a friend’s birthday would sneak up, I’d feel bad, I’d vow I will absolutely remember this next year, and then… that thought would just free-float in my mind for a day or two before dissolving into the swirling soup of more urgent concerns. (I mean, their birthday isn’t for almost a whole year, right?)

And look, a forgotten birthday isn’t the end of the world. But the mix of regret now and the pressure to remember something far in the future creates this tiny, persistent stress. Now, when I learn someone’s birthday, I immediately capture it.

Later, during my review, I drop it on my calendar with a suite of reminders, and bam - next year you’re getting a birthday card, call, beer, or high-five. I get the quiet glow of not forgetting a friend’s birthday and the genuine joy of connecting with them on their day.

Now multiply that across:

• the dentist appointment I need to book,
• the Wikipedia article I wanted to read,
• the person I promised to email in three weeks,and the birthday-gift idea for my wife that I swear I’ll remember…

Suddenly your mind is a messy stew bubbling over the edges of the brain cauldron.

Getting It Out of Your Head

So here’s the relief: if you just immediately get the thing out of your head and into a system - a notebook, the back of a receipt, an app (I use Todoist because it syncs between phone and laptop) - and you trust that you’ll process it later, the weight lifts. Instantly. It’s honestly delightful.

Just my two cents.

Anyway… when’s your birthday?

Editor’s note: Joey’s editor here. I can confirm that while Joey now remembers almost every birthday, he's still working on tying that directly to action. Ohh and he still routinely forgets where he put his keys, his coffee, and once, astonishingly, his own backpack. Progress is progress.