Whoa-ooh-whoa-oh Grad… School Test

Dear Brain,


We need to have another one of our conversations where I tell you how inept you are sometimes and you completely pretend not hear a word I say. Nevertheless Brain, I must say, who the hell… do you think you are?

I have had enough with your random choice of thoughts, not to mention the completely mediocre music you seem to enjoy so much without my consent. You are so beyond selfish, I cannot fathom a word that will describe you accurately. Self-centered, egomaniacal, egoistic and any other word with “self” and “ego” in it just falls short. Not to mention you have the worst timing when you decide to go into your little narcissistic tantrums, completely disregarding my feelings and duties.

Like that time in June when we needed to take the Grad School Test. You knew how challenging this was for us. Not only did we have to become students once again during the summer, when nobody should ever have to study, but we were very close to missing the reservation date because you were too busy caring only for yourself. There almost went our future.

I spent weeks studying, reading and highlighting everything for you so you could absorb the information with ease and retain it until the day of the exam. Is that so difficult? I did most of the work and don’t you dare discount the hours I spent watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Those were my efforts to relax you. It’s not my fault you know every…damn… line by heart. It’s annoying as hell.

Then you managed your piece de resistance the morning of the test. Feeling somewhere between nervous and borderline hysterical, I began the test meticulously, making sure every answer was correct while still not lingering too long. I was moving at a good pace, feeling better about myself with each answer.

It is amazing the shit you come up with when everything is utterly silent. It’s like you are forever high on some drug and can’t enjoy the peace and quiet. I do not need you to remind me I left a mess in my room when I’m in the middle of the Math section dealing with an equation I have never heard of in my life. It is pointless for you to bring up the missed call from that guy I used to have a crush on and begin asking me questions about his intentions. I am taking the test that will define my future, dammit!

But you certainly took the cake when your melodic tastes kicked in. I think you got bored of letters and questions –which is not my fault by the way!- and decided music was the joy of your existence when you began to hum. I gradually became aware of it.

Brain: Hmmm hmm hmm…hmm…hm hm.. ooooh, oh, the hell.

Me: Cut it out…

Brain: Whoa-ooh-whoa-ooh-oh-oh the hell…

Me: What … are you … singing?

Brain: ALL MY LIFE I’VE BEEN GOOD… BUT NOW… WHAAAAA

HAAAAT… THE HELL!

Me: Avril Lavigne?! You are singing Avril Lavigne in the middle of my exam?!

Brain: All I want is to mess… around!

Me: Stop it! Stop…singing!

Brain: IcanthelpitIcanthelpitIcantheeeeelpit! It’s so catchy!

Me: It’s shit! I need you to focus!

Brain: Cant! Can’t focus on anything anything anythiiiing! You should not have fed me sugar this morning!

Me: Stop singing horrible pop songs! I’m going to end up jobless and poor because of you, you self important bastard!

Brain: You best be nice or I’ll make you hungry and sleepy in the next few minutes.

I am onto your little game, Brain. You think you are so high and mighty because you excel at multi tasking like no one else. You think you have leverage because you are the king of organs therefore, I will never be able to truly punish you.

But while you have been blinded by self adoration, you overestimated the situation. True, I can’t really live without you but you also suck at compromise so now I have no choice but to rely on my abilities to torture you. If you keep up with these shenanigans, I will make you watch the weather channel for eight hours straight while listening to Kesha’s album while dragging my nails on chalkboard. If you make me bring out the big guns, we can always watch MTV, Jersey Shore to be specific. I know how much you detest it.

I don’t want to go to extremes, Brain. You are quite decent and smart. I’ve invested a lot in you. But I need to show you the severity of the situation and somehow equate the pain I have to withstand whenever you have your diva episodes. Self control is key. If you can master that, we’ll get along just fine.

If not, you know what’s coming your way. MTV doesn’t sleep.

Sincerely,

Your host.

M.




PS: I just realized there is no way this post will ever become a durable piece of writing because in ten years, no one is going to care about insufferable reality TV shows or terrible “singers”. Then again, writing about talking to myself isn’t exactly built to stand the tests of time.

UPDATE: I passed the test and now I can’t be too hard on Brain. Before that, though, I made him watch Jersey Shore and it was quite efficient until it he seemed intrigued by it. That was the end of that.

UPDATE: Brain is a ‘he’?