Since I’m an introvert, (which means I only talk or listen to people when I feel like it), I have a lot of time for observation. I like to observe people because it gives me the opportunity to judge them and make wild assumptions about why I can’t stand them. Of course, when people talk to me, they usually prove me right. It really sucks being able to have this ability, but you know, that is just another reason why I am bitter.
Back to my point. As an observer, I get to see people make wicked fools out of themselves all the time. I pretend not to watch people fall in a rain puddles, or when a boy is trying to impress a girl and it is clear that not only is it not working, but he has no idea it isn’t working. It also gives me a lot of time to come up with ideas. Lots and lots of ideas. Mostly really bad ones that will damage the very fabric of humanity, or will simply just annoy people. While it would be great to implement these ideas, I either have no time, no talent, or no ability to build these enormous machines that would destroy your house and your ability to know it was me. So until I get that inheritance from my dad Lottery McLucky, who doesn’t want to share with his other sapplings, I’m stuck trying to implement the terrible and cheap ideas.
Thing is….every once in a while, a genius idea appears (yes even to me). A brilliant book idea that must be written immediately…a genius invention that will change the world for the bitter, or a recipe (not for disaster, but for a tree printer, that prints money).
Problem is…My mind is a jerk. It is bitter and angry and jealous. It’s probably because I get to live outside the body, and even though he operates my arms and legs and bitter face, he doesn’t get any credit. So you wanna know how he gets his revenge? Ideas. He knows every single one that I have ever thought of…or that he thought of. But he hides behind the short term memory. He knows I’m like Doug, the squirrel chasing dog, and he knows that once that 30 second window of short term memory is up, he can put that sucker into a deep dark recess of the brain that he knows I can’t access. Because I didn’t find some mnemonic device or some trigger that helped me remember. He knows he’s got me. And he stores that bitter idea up there something fierce. He’s not letting that thing go. He’s locked it up, in the Idea Safe and there is no way I’m getting that thing out. It’s bulletproof, waterproof, fireproof and the combination is 40 numerals long. Though having a safe with just four possible combinations would suffice for a math averse, lazy idiot like me. But just so he gets the most satisfaction, he taunts me with glimpses, or deja vu’s or recurring dreams, just so I will almost remember it, then lose it again, bitter and frustrated.
Your mind may do that to you too, but mine takes it one step further. He throws parties, shoots off neuron particle firework shows, and clogs up my his information highway, so I can’t remember answers that I clearly perused one time in a book. He’s kind of a jerk, making me study so much just so I can use a calculator to add up 1+1. (It’s three right? Shut up, brain, you know it is 4!)
Well, my brain is going to pay for this. I’m going to post this thing and expose how much of a jerk he is. And the best part is that I am going to make him make my hands type it. Take that you stupid brain! Just try to stop me .sajdflkajfdslkjfdlaslfdk;jfd. That’s it, Brain! I’m hitting publish and there’s nothing you can ksdlajflk about it! There is going to be an Idea Vault break in when you least expect it!
Bitter Brainiac Ben