For some reason I’ve been thinking recently that I really should learn to drive. Then that line of thought gets onto the fact that I started learning back when I was 17. Then I remember I’m 27 now. Then my brain tends to say something along the lines of: “Oh. Bollocks.”
I had a dozen or so lessons, but then went to uni and kind of forgot about it. Then when I came back a couple of years later and had some time to learn again, I stopped again when I decided to go back to uni. Again. And I absolutely was not about to try and learn in Preston, as I value the whole Not Dying thing. There’s logic in there somewhere.
But do I really need to know how to drive? I walk to work, and if I can’t there’s a bus stop 11 seconds walk from my house. I could use a car to drive up to Manchester instead of taking the train, but the added cost of petrol, tax and all that other shit cars require means it would probably end up costing more than it does without a car. Generally, it makes me think of this:
Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that I’ve not actually done the wrong, idiotic thing by not learning to drive. Who knows? I do. It’s that. Yep. I should have learned to drive by now. I could own a van and everything. Instead I’m relegated to having to walk or take buses, and I have no independence when it comes to actually getting anywhere. Balls.
I don’t think I get on with my brain very well. I ask it if I should do something – anything – and it often just goes with “no”. I do feel as if I inhabit a body that belongs to me but contained within it is the brain of someone, or something, else. I mean, if it is the latter I’d hope the ‘thing’ in question is a powerful lion with a penchant for devouring pasties, but we all know it’s a sloth. A sloth that other sloths refer to as “the lazy one” – yes, even lazier than Lazy Sloth McGinty, the (former) laziest sloth in the world and (current) holder of the Guinness World Record for least movement made in one week. The sloth my brain comes from would have taken that record, but Kriss Akabusi never turned up to verify the attempt so it was invalid.
My body, or at least the consciously-controlled part of myself, is really quite willing to crack on with things, to get work done, to go out, to be sociable, to go shopping for basic foodstuffs (it doesn’t want to go shopping for clothes – it isn’t mental) and generally to try and be a real human being. The brain part that controls said conscious body bit, however, isn’t a fan of these ideas. It’s like the boss of some nasty international megacorp that will sit there and listen to the pleading from Joey Small the Tiny Baker in full, look like he’s going to have a change of heart (did I mention? He’s planning to blow up Joey Small’s Tiny Bakery in Lewisham) before he actually sits back, cackles and lets out a booming “NO”. Then has Joey’s family put to death.
That’s my brain. It doesn’t belong in me, but it’s still controlling who and what I am. Curse you brain, for making me this way. Still, the thought of sitting doing absolutely nothing on my four days off does seem like a very good prospect indeed. Maybe sloth-brain is onto something…