My brain during the holidays.
Here we go.
I’m 26, living a totally sweet life. Seeing that nothing is wrong, that every functional need is being met with Developed Nation aplomb, my brain goes beserk.
ME: I’m hungry. Perhaps I’ll eat something delicious from this plentiful cupboard.
ME: I’d like a bit of artistic culture. Allow me to partake of this volume of poetry and/or Vanity Fair.
ME: And look out the window at the beach! What a breathtaking winter sunset!
Coasting down from the high of birthday celebrations and giddy Thanksgiving gluttony, last week I was deposited on the skirt-hems of Christmas. Now for the sparkle and joy of my typical holiday routine, I thought. Between hanging golden tinsel and shiny silver balls from every conceivable surface, I figured I’d be so full of blissful cheer I’d swan thoughtlessly through the season.
I sat at this computer for about 30 minutes tonight, watching videos of kittens and pondering my to-do list. It includes such taxing tasks as ‘cut pictures out of magazines’ and ‘drink water.’ Yet I can’t seem to get going.
It’s hard to say what, exactly, has me stymied. Perhaps I’m panicked by the sheer excellence of my life.
ME: Looks like I can pay my credit card bill in full again.
BRAIN: IT’S TOO EASY!
ME: I can even make a transfer to savings.
BRAIN: IT’S A TRAP!
Most of the time, Brain exacts his vengeance when I’m asleep. I settle down into 400-threat-count sheets, snuggle beneath my freshly-washed comforter, and dream of chaos.
High-speed chases. Assassins in hiding. Trains that bullet through the Swiss Alps while I cling to the space between cars. My dreams are reminiscent of Hollywood blockbusters, and I’m always cast as Jason Bourne.
Intense? Yes, a bit. But it’s also very exciting. I’m exponentially more adventurous (not to mention athletic and well-traveled) when asleep. Everyone wants to kill me, which probably means I’m famous. So really, I’ve got no cause for complaints.
BRAIN: HOW CAN YOU BE SO CASUAL ABOUT THIS?
Last night I dreamt that zombies were roaming the streets and swarming my house (located, inexplicably, in Seattle). Now that I’m awake, however, these fears seem a bit silly.
BRAIN: WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?
OK, so maybe I am being a tad lackadaisical. I am worried, a little bit. My brain is obviously trying to tell me something; it’s rambling like a crazy person, and I’m rocking out to Taylor Swift. I don’t want to miss the message, don’t want to ignore pointed questions. Is my life is a little TOO safe? Is everything just a little TOO easy?
Perhaps. My biggest accomplishment this evening will be updating my Facebook status. I’m not fighting the undead; I’m not forging a passport. Instead I spend hours writing to-do lists and planning occasions for holiday mirth.
So OK, fine. Let’s up the ante. I’ll try and fail, not fail to try. I’ll reach for the stars, do one thing that scares me. I’ll sift through clichés and find a way to push my brain to action.
But first I need to go to the mall.
BRAIN: AUGH! HOLIDAY TRAFFIC!
Looks like we’re going to have a merry crisis after all.