Stupid Brain – If I had a gold star, I’d give it to you.

I’m a thinker and sometimes I don’t want to be. I really don’t like living inside my head. It’s really a scary place up there. Sometimes I think that it’s full of cobwebs and cotton balls. Or sometimes marbles rattling around – or maybe that’s just because sometimes I feel like I’ve lost my marbles. Then other times I feel like it’s packed full of craziness amplified by the little voices telling me to do things. I swear, I promise, I stress – I’m not a serial killer. I don’t have a dog telling me to do awful things, but I do have a stupid brain that makes the rest of my body panic.

So, the brain is obviously the most important part of your body. I don’t really know what is more important, brain or heart, but for right now, and for lack of argument, I’m saying brain. Without it, we’d all be vegetables. . . mine just happens to be retarded. I remember the stupidest, most unimportant things that has absolutely no relevance to my life. And it’s not just things people said, or what I did, but actual film strip like memories that I can replay in my head over and freaking over again. I swear, when I close my eyes, I can replay these things in my mind right down to the visuals. Smells, sometimes, trigger these random memories. Random things that people said. Déjà vu is nothing for me.

For example, anytime I smell the cologne by Abercombie and Fitch I can remember, very visibly and with great detail, laying on a trampoline in the backyard of a boys house. I was fifteen, it was fall, and super cold out. Plus hormones. Little bitches. There were four of us and we were all cuddled underneath a huge quilt blanket looking at the stars in the night sky. The stadium lights from the neighboring football field was a little to bright to see many stars, but it was a Friday night and that’s where we were. The one boy, a boy that I had a huge crush on, (here’s where those hormones come in) was wearing that Fitch cologne on his sweater. We were laying like “monkeys in a bed”, one right next to each other, and as anyone who walks past that store in the mall knows, that smell is absolutely potent. Maybe it’s laced with some type of pheromone? That’s something worth investigating – maybe that’s their whole ploy! Okay, moving on… I can still hear, see  and feel the chilly breeze moving the deadened leaves on the trees and picking up the leaves like little cyclones. We all laid there; him, myself, another boy and a girl from up the street. See? Why do I remember this so vividly? Why? It’s of absolutely no use to me now. Though, I imagine that it’s all a fundamental building block of who I am as an individual. Or something – something – useful. I keep telling myself this…

The other part about my brain, and the main reason that its stupid, is that at the most inopportune times it vacates my skull and lets me live up there all by myself. By that I mean that I feel like my body is merely sitting there and I’ve climbed up inside my head and I’m all alone with my thoughts. Sometimes I can see myself up there, all alone, in the dark, knocking against my cranium walls looking for an escape. I get to sit there and think. I hate thinking because for the most part it only leads to bad, bad things. For those who are impulsive people and completely able to ride any wind without cause for concern, I absolutely envy you. I feel like my worse quality is my over thinking. I know that this is a female trait and that I am, in fact, a female – but I feel like I do this to the “nth” degree. I often think of Allie Brosh (mainly because I love her and think she is incredible) and how she draws herself. I wonder how I would draw myself should I be creative like her. Usually, in my mind, it ends up looking like a black little blob of craziness. Maybe that’s because I am crazy. Maybe that’s because I am a blob. Maybe I’ll paint it.

Point is, however, I just sit there idly watching as people move about me, but they are of no importance. What is important are the ludicrous thoughts that are bouncing around inside my brain. It’s like my thoughts consume me and I start playing out scenarios in my head…this is what it sounds like up there: what happens if I go this way? what happens if i do this? where will i be? what time is it? that’s not important. do i have to pee? yes. i have to pee. wait, no i don’t, i need more coffee. no, i must figure this out first. what happens if i do this? what is love. love isn’t real. yes it is, i can feel it in my gut. is this the right direction? can i turn around? what happens if i just go with my gut? no, your gut lies. wait, no – you’re just hungry. you’re just panicking, don’t listen to that thought. but why not? it’s valid, right? no, it’s stupid -you’re stupid. this is your scumbag brain talking…LISTEN TO ALL OF ME.

It feels like little ribbons of thoughts and memories are spooling themselves out inside my head. I just reach up, grab it, read it, and then let it go back to fill up my brain with craziness. I remember when I was in middle school there was this girl that was really mean to me. I was an easy target because I let myself be that way. I cared too much about what others thought about me and I still do to this day. She was vicious, though. Our cafeteria in middle school formed a giant horseshoe. You walked in on the right, formed a line against the wall to get your pathetic attempt at lunch, then it spit you out on the left where you were to go find your lunch room table with your class. There were tables all over the place, but of course I had to walk right past her table. I don’t really remember why she was being mean, or what the scenario was, I think it was about a boy, or something stupid, but what I do remember is what happened that day. It was the 90’s when I was in middle school and much like the 90’s blue jeans that were doodled on were super cool. My mom, however, did not think so. She even went to JcPenny and bought me a pair of jeans that were “pre-doodled” – silly mommie, the whole point was to doodle on them yourself! I was rockin’ them with my tennis shoes and flannel t-shirt tied around my waste. I held my head up high as I was walking past her table, but unfortunately I had it a little too high. Between my nose in the air and the plastic blue lunch tray I did not see the stray piece of chlorophyll-lacking lettuce on the floor as I carelessly stepped on it and slipped. Thankfully, I didn’t pull a Chaplin moment where my feet ended above my head, but I did slip and have to regain my balance quickly. However, all of my food on my tray went all down the front of me and all over the floor. They erupted in laughter. All of them did and I turned blood red. I was beyond embarrassed as I scuttled quickly to my lunch room table where I slammed my tray down only to watch more food scatter across the table. I sat down, put my flannel on and hid behind its collar. I was mortified. When I get embarrassed about something now, or if I act like a total dummy, that little ribbon spools off in my brain and reminds me of just how embarrassed I was. Sometimes I can still feel that flood of panic consume me.

Lately though my brain has been doing this new thing. This new thing is when it spits out thoughts that I didn’t know existed in midst of conversation with someone. It’s like my brain has Tourettes and I don’t know about it. Jokingly, or in passing, I’ll say things and then wonder where the hell those thoughts even came from. It’s like “blah blah blah – I LIKE JUSTIN BIEBER- blah blah blah” and then I sit there for a second with the duck face and raised eyebrow and think “why did I just say that? I really like Justin Bieber? Gross! Wait, maybe I do…” Or I’ll say things that pertain to a situation that I’m in like, “Blah blah blah, awesome ya know? blah blah blah, I give too much” and then I’m like – huh? Why? What? Where the hell did that come from. The response lately has been to retreat into that dark little cave that is the inside of my head. I pull up anchor, take up ship and then set sail inside my head full of cotton balls, cobwebs, marbles, ribbons, stuff and let myself fester. It’s like I’m a bird in a bird bath – I shake a bit and all the thoughts go flying about. The problem is, I have a hard time coming out of my own head. I worry that my thoughts are stupid, or irrelevant, or that I’m just being a flat out dummy. I’m starting to think that this is due to my insecurities. Either way, I don’t like it. I don’t like my stupid brain and I truly feel it’s the impetus to my sanity….of course it is. It’s my brain.

For those who made it this far, I applaud you. You just survived how my brain pretty much works on a daily basis. Friend, if I had a gold star, I’d give it to you.

One thought on “Stupid Brain – If I had a gold star, I’d give it to you.

  1. Pingback: Climbing Up My Heart « A Day After the Bottle

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