Note: Here’s yet another post where my brain and I have a conversation with each other. Had a weird day but glad it’s over. Anywho, I had fun writing this. Enjoy.
Hey, man…
Hey yourself.
How are you doing? You feeling good today?
I guess. Why?
Oh nothing. Not much. …nada mucho.
Oh, shit what’s happening?
Go ahead and get situated at work. It’s time for…
Don’t say it. Don’t you dare fucking say it.
IT’S TIME FOR EVERYTHING GOES WRONG DAY!!!! *blows airhorn 3 times* *balloons and confetti fall from ceiling*
God fucking damnit. My weekend was pretty tight and the morning wasn’t so bad either. Why?
You know the drill. Not every day is sunshine and roses, sunshine.
The worst part of these days is going to war with you, brain! *sigh* Okay, well what’s up?
You know that thing where someone is counting something to such an overwhelming degree that they say, “okay to make things easier, who isn’t xyz” and like one or two people raise their hands? Maybe let’s start there.
Oh yeah… like if you were counting people in Trump’s inner circle who were facing legal peril, it might actually be easier to be like “ok just to make things simpler, who isn’t under investigation for xyz thing” and then you could just subtract that number from the total number of people in his inner circle. I bet that actual number is three, by the way.
Sure. That’s a good example considering the news HAVEYOUSEENIT? DUDE IS FACING THE MUSIC FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS ENTIRE MISERABLE LIFE.
A.Freaking.Men. No banana split or root beer float or key lime pie has ever tasted so delicious.
Hallelujah.
Dude was impeached twice so let’s set the number at two. You taking the over or the under on number of indictments he’ll face?
At two? I’ll take the over. There’s this one and the Georgia election one. Then there’s all the other brazenly illegal shit he’s done in his life. He probably won’t be indicted for all that other stuff, but a guy can dream, right?
Hell yeah we can.
Let’s continue with the good stuff first. There’s the Trump indictment and we had fun with your brother and family over the weekend. Your nephew has a million-dollar smile. Keep that in your mind’s eye.
He sure does. Fun little goober, too.
And you got a new hat and even got a compliment from a random stranger on it, so it’s not all bad…
This talking to my brain thing in writing form has gotten very confusing. Can we go back to talking about the shitty day?
YES! Okay, where were we? You know that one work thing you kind of stressed out about over the weekend and did some work on? Turns out you did some of it kind of wrong.
FUCK ME. Wrong?
Well, not wrong, but you left one piece of information off, ergo, since I am your head talking, that one piece of information means it was ALL messed up. You done fucked up, bruh.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.
Yeah yeah yeah but it’s all good. Even though you hate being wrong at work and hate being called on it even more, mistakes happen.
It aint the way I wanted it. I can handle things. I’m smart.
You keep quoting Fredo and I might have to take you fishing later. Anywho, that’s fire number one. The second fire is there’s an issue with a credit card payment. You gotta handle that.
*rubs temples* Okay those are easy enough. Usually, the credit card company is strict about what we can and can’t use the credit card on so all I need to do is ask them for permission to make this payment.
And that guest you have coming in that needs hotel accommodations… the hotel reserved the wrong days. You need to fix that but with a different hotel because the first choice hotel is now booked up.
Okay. Anything else?
LOL There’s an issue with a payment that’s relatively simple but since your brain is already stuck in mud, it’s going to seem more complicated than it actually is.
Okay… Look, I know it’s not even 9:05am and this all seems bad, but even I know that I’ve been there done that. You don’t work at this university for 16 years without an occasional “you done fucked up, bruh” day to weed through. The way out is one foot in front of the other. As Churchill said, “if you’re going through Hell, keep going.”
Dude, he said that to people watching their sons and brothers die all across Europe and Northern Africa but if comparing World War II to simple accounting processes makes you feel better, go for it. …But if we’re doing platitudes, you put that Ted Lasso “be a goldfish” quote literally at your desk for this very reason.
Yeah, yeah, but platitudes are a peacetime thing, though. All those kitten “hang in there” posters and “Just Do It” Nike ads… we only pay attention to them when things are good. Once you’re in the thick of whatever mess you find yourself in, all that “make you feel good” bullshit is just literal writing on the wall.
Fair enough, but your mistakes aren’t as bad as they seem. All this is fixable. And if you beat yourself up over these mistakes, the mistakes are beating you twice which is kind of the whole motherfucking point of “be a goldfish.” You have a lot of… stuff working against you. You don’t like doing a bad job because your dad and mom instilled a good work ethic in you and you don’t like looking bad because you suffer from everything from anxiety to impostor syndrome to low self-esteem (at times). You also don’t like messing up because it’s just no fun to mess up. Simple as that.
You know me best, brain.
Indeed, I do. These days happen to everyone in every profession on every level. Could be fate. Could be karma. Having everything seem to break all at once could also just be a huge coincidence. Can I offer one bit of advice?
Sure.
Go touch some damn grass. Every time you sit behind your computer and your anxiety starts spinning out of control like the Tasmanian Devil, go touch some grass.
Or smoke some grass.
No one calls it “grass” anymore, Grandpa.
Hey fuck you, brain. Weren’t you just singing a Nat King Cole song on your way to the bathroom? No one listens to Nat King Cole during months that aren’t December. You call me grandpa?
And weren’t YOU the one who just sneezed and pulled a hamstring? That’s real grandpa shit. HEY! HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
I’m going to take your advice and go touch some grass. I’m literally going to go touch some grass like I’m Maximus or like I’m in a Terrence Malick flick. Then I’m going to go on a quick walk.
Which Nat King Cole we listening to? “L” is for the way you look at me. “O” is for the only one, I see…
Nah, dog. Days like today call for Slayer.
Ooooh. Slayer! Yes!!! What’s the matter, Sinatra not hard enough for you? Which Slayer track? “Raining Blood?”
Accept no substitutes.
You’re such a child.
I know you are but what am I?
No, really, you’re kind of a child. But let’s go do this. We got some air drumming to do and a date with Dave Lombardo awaits.
*high fives self*
An open and shut book 
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