MY MIND'S "I"

Your brain has a very important job. It creates order where there is chaos. I imagine in my brain there is a little version of me, almost as charming and handsome, sitting behind a very large desk in a corner office, making important life decisions while efficiently filing away the details of every exchange and interaction for future reference. To protect his identity, I'm just going to call him Little Me.

Little Me works very hard in the office of my mind, for very little thanks, and even less pay. But he gets a lot of sleep and free beer – so he’s good.

In addition to being a terrible thing to waste, the mind also happens to be a terribly busy place to work. Little Me sits in a big leather chair with a big red stamp pad, sifting through countless requests day after day…granting those most necessary, delaying those that can wait, sending on to committee those that require further consideration, and rejecting the rest in the blink of an eye. Little Me pushes a lot of paper in a day, but is not just a paper pusher. Little Me is the VP of Operations for Life Management Systems – he's the man behind the man.

Running the body’s business is a demanding job. The office of the mind receives endless requests from all over – the bladder office, the belly plant, and the bowel mine…just to name a few. And then there are all kinds of requests from other bodies to consider. I can only be in one place at one time, and someone has to make that very important call. Where to go, who to see, what to say, how to get there – it’s all got to go through Little Me.

Little Me is the primary contact on such important life decisions as: Do I buy this CD even though I’ve only heard one song? Do I eat this day-old sushi? Should I work out or take a nap? Is it too late to call? Am I done wiping? Where did I leave my keys? What’s that smell, is it me, and should I be concerned? How much more back hair is going to warrant a wax? How much should I tip?

On Little Me’s desk sits a massive stack of papers. Every new task is a memo sheet. Every new need is a purchase order. Every new introduction is a resume. Little Me efficiently files all of these papers without my even thinking about it. Sometimes the papers get mixed up – like when I mistake someone’s name. Sometimes they get lost – like when I forget a dentist appointment. And sometimes Little Me ends up with so many pieces of paper on his desk he gets overwhelmed and walks out on me. That’s usually when I proclaim something like “I’m losing my mind!” I’m not actually losing my mind – I’ve just lost control of it temporarily. When Little Me comes back after his ten minute smoke break, everything will be cool again. I just need to get by while Little Me is out of the office.

As you can see, Little Me has a big job. He calls the shots…even if the rest of me doesn’t always comply. Consider the situation in my pants. Every morning I wake up with a mature sequoia sprouting from my loins. Little Me has made it clear that he’s got nothing to do with that bodily function. That whole department, I’ve been told, has got a mind of its own.

I recently sent a memo to Little Me to let him know he’s doing a fantastic job. I also suggested a policy of using paper clips instead of staples. For as long as I can remember, Little Me has been using staples to keep things together. When he needs to place a face with a name, he staples them together. When he needs to file a restaurant, an address, a memory, and a newspaper review together, he staples them. Stapling effectively ensures that all of those pieces of information stay together for quick retrieval. But it’s hard to update your files when everything is stapled together. Paper clips, on the other hand, ensure pieces of information stay together with less permanence. That way you can add new information, and swap out the old for the new. It’s simply a better way of doing things.

I’ve already noticed my paper clip policy has been streamlining operations. Here’s an example. My belly used to send endless requests for food. Little Me would pull the file to review the list of approved vendors: tacos, pizza, potato chips, cheese sticks, nachos, bratwurst, patty melt, gyros, biscuits and gravy, and so on. A purchase order would then be completed, a transaction made, and the belly would receive a shipment of approved food. Everything in the Approved Foods file was stapled together, so Little Me was able to reference his options quickly.

What Little Me didn’t realize was how a single staple made him reluctant to update his file. Adding new vendors would have created mayhem in the Approved Foods file because all of the loose sheets would have defeated the purpose of stapling. It would have meant more work to sift through all of those papers, or to remove staples and re-staple the entire stack every time a new option was added. Since switching to paperclips, Little Me has been adding all sorts of healthier alternatives to the Approved Foods file: Boca Burgers, grapefruit, salad, fish, Sun Chips, etc. And not only is the Belly pleased, but so are the bowels, the heart, and the brain.

There are a lot of files in the office of the mind. And a lot of them contain a lot of papers – things I tell myself I need to “keep in mind.” Instead of stapling everything for order’s sake and becoming a rigid thinker, I’m now using binder clips to keep everything together. With binder clips, I’m free to experience new things. I can see other points of view. I can appreciate things I never noticed before. I can approach problems from a new angle. Staples had created bureaucracy – requests of the mind were processed reflexively for order and speed. Paper clips have opened up the mind to new possibilities.

Sometimes people will see me doing something out of the ordinary, like drinking tequila with a straw, and ask me, “Are you out of your mind?” I really don’t have an answer for them other than to say, “My VP of Operations for Life Management has ditched staples in favor of paper clips to afford me new experiences like this one.” That usually answers their question.

A lot of people like to think they know what’s best for me. And they’re not shy about letting me know. “Your socks don’t match – I hope you don’t mind me saying so.” Do I mind? I run that request by Little Me who is in charge of the mind. But Little Me is too preoccupied with finding a restroom (the result of an earlier decision to eat day-old sushi) to mind and has issued this memo: Mind your own fucking business. So I reply kindly, “No, I don’t mind at all. Thanks for letting me know.”

Do you have any idea who’s staffing the office of your mind right now? Little You? Little You is clearly taking a break if you are reading this. He or she has decided it’s time for a little light entertainment and is out back smoking dope with the cafeteria bus boys. Don’t be alarmed – Little You will be back shortly and you’ll be able to resume normal operations.

And that brings me, at long last, to my whole point. Every once in a while you need to give Little You an evaluation. I’m not talking about staples versus paper clips here. I’m talking about a performance review. Does Little You keep you fed, clothed, and rested? Are you otherwise generally satisfied and content? Has Little You been steering you in a positive direction? Are you happy? If so, then give your VP of Operations a raise. Keep Little You happy so you don’t end up losing your mind.

On the other hand, however, if you think Little You has been falling asleep on the job, making poor decisions, and taking you down a path toward ruin, then it may be time to consider bringing in a fresh perspective. Remember – you can ALWAYS change your mind.

Not me. I know he’s not perfect, but Little Me gets the job done. And he’s cheap. So I just signed him to a long-term contract. Hey - it's hard to find good help these days.

So I guess you could say I’ve made up my mind for good.