That Brain..That Big, Lowdown, Pink Ass Brain..
Have you ever really taken a moment to think about your brain?
Not Pinky & the Brain, just..you know, the brain in your head space.
I thought about it. Maybe because I need a job and have thus taken to Netflix and thinking.
The brain controls aspects of our daily living that we probably don't think about. Each breath, each movement, each blink..all controlled by the brain. The physical things going on inside that we don't see, the outside things we observe..the brain. Then, to add further coolness to that odd looking organ of ours, it works even when we aren't DOING anything, because we are actually DOING things. When we're asleep, our brain is at work. Wicked, ain't it?
If your brain ever decides it's sick of working, that's pretty much it. You don't get anothern. You don't get put on a list to wait for a replacement from a donor - living or dead. It's why we are told to wear helmets when we ride bikes or skate. Tis why there is so much fuss in the NFL. Hits to the head is why they say the greats of boxing are mere shells. All because of le brain. Damage to it can change your life forever.
Big deal, ain't it?
As if we haven't gotten a heavy enough introduction here about le brain, let's get into how we have to be careful on a daily basis. We can't go around here drinking, using illegal drugs, pulling Jackass stunts and running roughshod. What we eat and imbibe upon affects it. Certain meds can throw shit off in that junt and you can have some things afoot. We have to take care of our brains.
But what do you do when your brain doesn't take care of you?
And now we come to the center of the shrubbery maze, yo.
My brain is responsible for a lot of the things going on in my life at the moment. It's why I end up closing the day laid on my left side with le shakes. It's why I cannot truly bask in the ambiance of success. That lowdown rat bastard is why I can't rest. My brain is doing it's job a little too well. It won't let me forget anything.
Remembering is great to do. The inability to do so can get you put in Shady Pines, so you know, it's good to do. But when your memories affect your future in an adverse manner, you have a battle on your hands. Right now, I'm typing this here blog using the memories in said head. I am thinking about what I thought about earlier. I'm also thinking about life two years ago. I'm afraid to sit down and eat right now. I keep thinking about how food used to be a crutch for me. I ate when I was happy, sad, broke, not that broke, not broke at all, in love, enraged, all of that. I often ate when I wasn't even hungry, just because I thought about how bad I wanted something. My brain would tell me that I was starving when I was actually just a tad thirsty. Even though my brain knows that I'm better than those days, it won't let me forget.
This sumbitch tells me to look in the mirror every single time I walk past it. It has me to check certain areas to make sure they aren't ugly. My brain flares up and tells me that my doctor still doesn't want me to exercise heavily until my next visit, yet scares me into believing that eating a few bites of sushi will make me fat as hell again. Each day, my brain gets into a Sharks vs. Jets battle in which one side says "you're conquering that battle of weight" and the other says "you're still fat and one digested morsel away from going back". Funny how my common sense tells me that I am not that old Tam anymore and her ass is gone.
I think I may be nuts. Or just a Gemini. Or both.
*sighs* My brain is a beautiful tool, that I fight furiously to protect. It's just a shittin' shame that it doesn't seem to want to protect me right now. I am feeling a little better from the last blog because I have had time to really sit down and write out my feels. In order for me to beat my brain's ass, I have to call it out for what it does.
Beat. My. Brain's. Ass.
Where do I get this mess from?
Anyhoo, chile. I know I have to eat to live, not live to eat. I know that a reduced stomach volume does not guarantee shrinking. I know that I have to watch myself and my calories. But the fear that comes from doing what I'm supposed to do to recover is driving me up the wall. I just wish my brain would let me relax.
I don't want to turn into someone who obsesses over every meal or movement. I bought myself a nice bike to get moving, only to fall the hell over trying to avoid CJ. Yeah, I laughed because that was FUNNY AS HELL. But as I sat down and the pain set in (because my hip is not 100%), my brain got to me.
"You're hurt again"
"You need to work out through the pain"
"That breakfast this morning was more calories than you just burned"
"Maybe you should just have tea tonight and skip dinner"
"You only had one meal today, ass. Go eat dinner"
"Not until you ride another ten minutes".
"You're not hungry. You ate at 8:30 this morning"
All of this happened in about 20 minutes. Yes. And this is a daily fight.
My brain is a bastard.
And they killed Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick, yo.
*deep inhale*
I'll get her in line one day.
~Fin
Not Pinky & the Brain, just..you know, the brain in your head space.
I thought about it. Maybe because I need a job and have thus taken to Netflix and thinking.
The brain controls aspects of our daily living that we probably don't think about. Each breath, each movement, each blink..all controlled by the brain. The physical things going on inside that we don't see, the outside things we observe..the brain. Then, to add further coolness to that odd looking organ of ours, it works even when we aren't DOING anything, because we are actually DOING things. When we're asleep, our brain is at work. Wicked, ain't it?
If your brain ever decides it's sick of working, that's pretty much it. You don't get anothern. You don't get put on a list to wait for a replacement from a donor - living or dead. It's why we are told to wear helmets when we ride bikes or skate. Tis why there is so much fuss in the NFL. Hits to the head is why they say the greats of boxing are mere shells. All because of le brain. Damage to it can change your life forever.
Big deal, ain't it?
As if we haven't gotten a heavy enough introduction here about le brain, let's get into how we have to be careful on a daily basis. We can't go around here drinking, using illegal drugs, pulling Jackass stunts and running roughshod. What we eat and imbibe upon affects it. Certain meds can throw shit off in that junt and you can have some things afoot. We have to take care of our brains.
But what do you do when your brain doesn't take care of you?
And now we come to the center of the shrubbery maze, yo.
My brain is responsible for a lot of the things going on in my life at the moment. It's why I end up closing the day laid on my left side with le shakes. It's why I cannot truly bask in the ambiance of success. That lowdown rat bastard is why I can't rest. My brain is doing it's job a little too well. It won't let me forget anything.
Remembering is great to do. The inability to do so can get you put in Shady Pines, so you know, it's good to do. But when your memories affect your future in an adverse manner, you have a battle on your hands. Right now, I'm typing this here blog using the memories in said head. I am thinking about what I thought about earlier. I'm also thinking about life two years ago. I'm afraid to sit down and eat right now. I keep thinking about how food used to be a crutch for me. I ate when I was happy, sad, broke, not that broke, not broke at all, in love, enraged, all of that. I often ate when I wasn't even hungry, just because I thought about how bad I wanted something. My brain would tell me that I was starving when I was actually just a tad thirsty. Even though my brain knows that I'm better than those days, it won't let me forget.
This sumbitch tells me to look in the mirror every single time I walk past it. It has me to check certain areas to make sure they aren't ugly. My brain flares up and tells me that my doctor still doesn't want me to exercise heavily until my next visit, yet scares me into believing that eating a few bites of sushi will make me fat as hell again. Each day, my brain gets into a Sharks vs. Jets battle in which one side says "you're conquering that battle of weight" and the other says "you're still fat and one digested morsel away from going back". Funny how my common sense tells me that I am not that old Tam anymore and her ass is gone.
I think I may be nuts. Or just a Gemini. Or both.
*sighs* My brain is a beautiful tool, that I fight furiously to protect. It's just a shittin' shame that it doesn't seem to want to protect me right now. I am feeling a little better from the last blog because I have had time to really sit down and write out my feels. In order for me to beat my brain's ass, I have to call it out for what it does.
Beat. My. Brain's. Ass.
Where do I get this mess from?
Anyhoo, chile. I know I have to eat to live, not live to eat. I know that a reduced stomach volume does not guarantee shrinking. I know that I have to watch myself and my calories. But the fear that comes from doing what I'm supposed to do to recover is driving me up the wall. I just wish my brain would let me relax.
I don't want to turn into someone who obsesses over every meal or movement. I bought myself a nice bike to get moving, only to fall the hell over trying to avoid CJ. Yeah, I laughed because that was FUNNY AS HELL. But as I sat down and the pain set in (because my hip is not 100%), my brain got to me.
"You're hurt again"
"You need to work out through the pain"
"That breakfast this morning was more calories than you just burned"
"Maybe you should just have tea tonight and skip dinner"
"You only had one meal today, ass. Go eat dinner"
"Not until you ride another ten minutes".
"You're not hungry. You ate at 8:30 this morning"
All of this happened in about 20 minutes. Yes. And this is a daily fight.
My brain is a bastard.
And they killed Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick, yo.
*deep inhale*
I'll get her in line one day.
~Fin
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