A Voice to Be Reckoned With

URGENT MEMO
To: Sam

Hey, doll. Brain here. Look, sweetie, I know you're a bit stressed, but, I swear, I can help you. All you have to do is listen.

First off, there is a filter between your mouth and me. Just because I say "man, that guy's a real asshole, huh?" doesn't mean those words need to leave your mouth.

And second of all, I was very disappointed in your actions last night. I know you're sick with The Crud, but never again do I want to be dragged along to a night of listening to Jewel and reading The Crucible while you eat cheese and crackers and sip dry red wine. Okay, actually, last night would have been fine were it not for the Jewel. The Crucible is a good play. I like cheese, I dig crackers, and wine is great (in moderation, that is). But Jewel? Well, she has some nice songs, but none of them are on the This Way album.

Seriously, what could have possessed you to listen to songs with lyrics like "we'll be a team/our two will be one/love will be our fortress/when all else comes undone"? Have you no sense of decency? NO. MORE. JEWEL. When you get home tonight I want you to listen to Black Rebel Motorcycle Club while you eat a turkey sandwich, some grapes, and drink a tall glass of orange juice. Then you're going to watch some Seinfeld, and, since you're going through one of those phases where you like to read plays (god knows why, but whatever), you're going to read Death of a Salesman. I promise, it'll be worth it. Remember how Jerry compares George to Biff Loman? You like George, in spite of his personality; I'm sure you'll like Biff.

As for your customers, I know some of them are dumb. Like the lady who was just in:

"Um, I'm looking for a book I had years ago. It was like - it had words in it. It was called...it was called The Word Book. It had, um, lists of words. But it wasn't, you know, like those others."
"Okay, so, it wasn't a dictionary?"
"No, but we used it for um...computers and -and spelling and stuff. It was called The Word Book. It was very helpful. Do you have anything like that?"
"Well, I can't think of anything exactly like that - but anything similar would be over in Reference, which is this section here."
"It wasn't a dictionary. It didn't have, um - what it meant. The words. What the words meant. It just had words."

Or the lady who just argued with you over something she was wrong about, and accused you of being "not very nice," when you were actually quite nice. I understand you don't want to admit to doing something you didn't (or not doing something you did), and I sympathize. But hey, it's part of your job.

And speaking of your job...

Get a new one. Your bosses have had financial problems for awhile now - you know this, because you've been getting the collection calls. And now that one of your uninsured bosses in laid up in a hospital in North Dakota with a broken leg, elbow, several broken ribs, and a minor spine fracture, those problems are only going to escalate. If you don't take care of this soon, you won't have a job to leave.

Lastly, but by no means leastly (yes, I know leastly isn't a word - I'm your damn brain, after all), your bathroom ceiling is revolting, and your landlord's promise to fix it "once the girl upstairs moves out" is unacceptable. Your whole apartment smells like mildew, and aren't you sick of staring up that creeping blue mold every time you take a shower? Face it, sweetie, your ceiling looks like moldy cottage cheese, and that's gross.

What you should do is convince the IRS that you don't owe them $15,000, and then get into low-income housing. The apartments are cheaper, bigger, and significantly nicer. Also, you should get a damn car.

Remember, Sam - you're nothing without me. Listen. Listen and learn.

Love,
Your Neglected Brain