My Brain is an Asshole

In yet another feeble stab at bettering myself, I decided to try to meditate this morning. (And by “meditate,” I mean “drink coffee without checking email.”) So I’m sitting there for about 25 seconds, when my brain starts talking to me. (My brain is a piece of crap and doesn’t support my attempts at self-improvement.) This is more or less how the conversation went:

Brain: Hey. Hey, you. Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. I know you hear me.

Me: I’m not listening, I’m not listening, la-la-la-la-la…

Brain: What’cha doin’?

Me: STFU, I’m trying to meditate here.

Brain: I’m bored. I’ll bet I can get you to think about doughnuts…right…NOW.

Me: Go to hell.

Brain: Hey, this is fun! Now we’re going to think about giraffes and their long-ass necks. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if they had to swallow pills? Like, if a giraffe had a headache and had to swallow an aspirin, how exactly would that work?*

Me: Shut up.

Brain: No, really—would he put the aspirin under his perversely long tongue? And then he’d have to bend all the way over to get some water, and the pill would fall out. Poor giraffes.

Me: Seriously, shut up.

Brain: You really suck at meditating.

Me: I hate you.

Brain: Mmm… doughnuts…

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*I spend an inordinate amount of time
wondering if animals get headaches.
Don’t ask.