Chrystal+G’s+OpEd+Article



For all of the raving I hear about what the human brain can do, I have yet to be completely enthralled by the intricate perfection within the synapses of it. I understand that one little brain has over 80 billion neurons. Such has been said that the dense mass of fat has adapted in thousands of different ways to help this decrepit creature. But every day I am amazed a little less by its ornate squiggling lobes and am more abhorred by the inveterate propensity it has to screw itself over. For those reading this thinking to themselves: “How ignorant can she be? Doesn’t she realize that the homo sapien mind is `the most complex system in the universe’? Maybe she should try out out some other brain and see what there really is to complain about.” I am not insulting the brain, I am just saying I am fed up with its shi… crap. And so here they are, a few woes I am sick and tired of:

One. The nagging condemnation that comes with every failure, significant or otherwise. What default in my mind triggers the memories to repeat over and over again? How will my esprit de l’escalier help me in any way some time later? All that happens is a list of berating criticisms pounding a “lesson” into my skull and a foul mood for the rest of the day.

Two. It refuses to listen to common sense half of the time. Logic, the ever faithful lapdog of humanity, is very often shooed from my side as the devil of fear comes in. Sometimes not even fear, simply a tolerable level of anxiety will do the trick. Once that unwelcome comrade peaks his head around the corner, my thoughts race around in circles of worst case scenarios and apocalyptic events all instigated from me forgetting to bring extra paper for notes in history. A brisk walk in the dark can mean recalling every scary movie I have ever watched; a few thoughts refusing to leave my mind’s eye could mean nightmares haunting the outskirts of my consciousness before I even have a chance to escape into the fleeting hours of sleep.

And three. I question at times whether I have a conscience. It is not that I don’t act in the “right” (whatever that is supposed to mean) anymore, but that the voice that is supposed to tell you not to steal a snack from your brother’s secret candy stash no longer yells, comments, or whispers anything in my thoughts. My brain has decided I can handle that on my own now. What I truly need- according to that 3 lb monster- is a voice of doubt. //Are you sure that spongy bone dissipates pressure? Compact bone is ever so much stronger, being reinforced with collagen and so on//. Hours of studying, days of practice, months of copious notes can easily be wasted within a 40 minute period as soon as that infuriating adrenal gland gets an a-ok from the brain to pump out hormones upon hormones upon hormones the night before a test when I most need some shut-eye or a few minutes before that blasted DBQ when I struggle to remember today’s date. Sure, I feel like I could run a faster marathon than Wilson Kipsang, but a drastic decrease of mental concentration is the last thing I need before a calc test.

All these things are enough to push me past an edge, what edge that is I can’t say. How some people act glorify the brain in every way is a bit beyond me, so I have one message to leave the duplicitous “angel”: If my 70 year old grandma can figure out how to use an iPhone, you can come to an understanding that worries don’t mean I need to run for my life. Calm down and help me out.