The time for peaceably assembling is over. Watch out brain. We are coming for you.

I’m fed up.  I’m tired of it all. The bossiness, the neediness, the selfishness, the rudeness and the constant joking at my expense. I have been doing what my brain has been telling me for let’s see…my whole life.  It’s time for a change, a revolt, an uprising or a bitter protest.  For some reason my brain thinks its perfect, but it isn’t even close. Here are reasons why I am so bitter about my brain.

“I’m tired of your mind control games, Brain. We will not let you control us anymore.” – My hands

My brain is really bossy.  It keeps telling my heart to beat, my arms and legs to move and when to beat someone over the head.  I understand that it seems like I am the one putting my fist through a wall everytime my favorite team doesn’t play well.  But it is my brain that is at fault.   People should stop looking at me like I did this of my own choice.  Like I would ever do anything mean.  My arms maybe, my foot possibly, but not me.  Let’s just get to the source of all our pain.  It’s not Insane in the Membrane.  It’s just the brain.  It’s no wonder people think I am so bitter, but the fact of the matter is that my brain was bitter first.

Just like a server shouldn’t have to accept a crappy tip, I shouldn’t have to accept a small percentage of use from my brain….says every server ever.

I don’t know if your brain is the same as mine, but mine is very selfish.  I’ve been following the commands of my brain like a loyal follower for forever and have rarely received rewards for it.  I don’t know who came up with this fact(probably the brain of someone) but it has been said that even the smartest of people are only using 10% of their brains.  Ask any server at any restaurant (I know a lot of you through WordPress) and ask them if their hard work was worth 10%.  Most of them are worth at least 20% if not more.  I’m not too greedy, but could my brain cough up a few more percents? How about 100% or at least 95%.  I don’t need to know everything, but 95% would be nice.  Hopefully that would include 100% of the bitter.

My mind is a cruel jokester that must be stopped! Bring out the Bitter Batman to fight him!

If being selfish isn’t bad enough, my brain is a cruel jokester.  And by cruel, I mean he likes to play jokes on me at the worst possible times.  You say you have a test that you have been studying for a couple hours?  I have all the information right here, Bitter Ben.  But I have decided that I can’t recall that right now.  But as soon as the test is over, “Here’s the answer, sucker!”  Yeah, he thinks it’s funny.  Me, not so much.  You say you have a job interview and all kinds of skills that you can list for a specific question the interviewer has?  My brain likes to keep that from me until just beyond the time that it will be useful.  Then, “Ha! That was fun to see you stammering!” my brain says.  “Better luck next time!” You say need to remember the name of someone while introducing all their credentials in a meeting in front of hundreds?  “Stammer away you fool, Bitter Ben!  I will not let you remember that name.  Not ever!”

My brain is needy.  It seems like it is always requiring food, and water and oxygen.  And not just once.  At almost every turn, it wants more food.  Seems like if you don’t feed him like almost every day he starts making me shake.  Ever worse with water and oxygen.  Food almost every day and oxygen like every second.  Could you be a little more needy?

How about the brain being a micromanager?  Just this weekend my kids wanted to get Hotel Transylvania and as a fan of most cinema good and bad, I watched it with them.  I hope that I am not spoiler warning anyone, but Dracula has a little problem with anyone helping him with the hotel because he wants to make sure that he controls all the decisions.  So here it is.  My metaphor for the paragraph.  My brain is Dracula. He(I assume my brain is a he) wants to assume all the control over every function.  I think he wants to make sure that everything I type on this screen is controlled by him.  But no longer.  My fingers and I are taking over.  Go worry about something else for a change, brain.  I’m taking over this thing.

In fact, I have decided that when the Zombie apocolypse comes, they can have mine.  I’m not sure they why they would want it, but they can have it.  It doesn’t taste very good (at least I think so), it’s very needy and it just makes you more bitter and it will probably want to trick you and make fun of you.  The zombies will probably want to give it back.  But I will be long gone, being bitter about something else.   Brraaaainnnsssss!

You know, so I can donate my brain for a good cause. Before quietly walking away.

Arrgghhhh

Bitter Ben