Mar 283 min read

A Conversation With My Brain

An honest conversation with the complicated thing in my head.

Title card with man and brain broken into different segments

Whilst waiting for my bagel with lox spread at the local deli, I told my brain we needed to talk. See, we haven't seen eye-to-eye for a while now. All right, we haven’t agreed for most of my life.

My brain has been in safety patrol mode for the last 55 years. Every morning it wakes up, puts on its yellow sash-like belt, and starts patrolling the school hallways of my mind. When it encounters an idea not included in its protocol, it asks a crapload of questions.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Isn't that a little careless?"

"Do you really think that's going to work?"

"Didn't you fail at that before?"

Previously, I was shut down and moved about my mundane way. However, this most recent conversation differed.

Tough St**

With the release of Dining With Zombies, I felt it was time to up my book promotions. I have three available with nary a purchaser. If I'm going to make a career in writing, I need to do something.

I decided to promote Thinking Inside My Box on my social media platforms. As soon as the thought reached my frontal lobe, out came the safety patrol.

"You sure you want to do this? Don't you think constant advertising will turn your followers away?"

I agreed with the arrogant little punk at first. Then I realized I was gifted with this thing called free will and didn't have to listen to everything my brain said. Now, this doesn't mean I’ll stick my hand on a hot stove or stand in the middle of an interstate highway. I listen to warnings that keep me alive.

However, posting a book promotion to Instagram? That's not a life-or-death situation. So, I gathered my courage and said, "Tough s**t, brain. I'm going to make this happen," and posted the crud out of TIMB.

It felt good to say that, and I need to do more of it.

Thank You, Mark Watney

The motivation to talk back to my brain is Mark Watney, the antagonist in Andy Wier's novel

The Martian. Stranded on Mars for two years, Mark listened to his safety patrol officer only when necessary. For instance, he didn’t open the airlock door to the outside without an EVA suit.

The rest of the time he moved forward and did things necessary for survival. He modified equipment, planted potatoes in his habitat to prevent starvation, and drove 3200 km (about 2,000 miles) to reach a vehicle to take him home.

I must do like Mark, but on oxygen-plentiful Earth. The lack of income and mounting bills supersede what the safety patrol thinks is risky. As Rachel did in Joey's apartment on Friends, I need to throw figurative wet paper towels at the wall to see if they stick.

I can't continue listening to my brain every time it says, "Oh, that will never work." Rather, I must go with the assumption it will work so I can gain traction in my life and my career.