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Operation Left vs. Hurricane Right

I have warring factions battling it out in my skull.  Wow.  That sounds more dramatic than I intended, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.  I’ll even say it again.  I have warring factions battling it out in my skull.  My crazy Right Brain is in overdrive right now, demanding attention, pulling ridiculous stunts and generally gunking up all of my Left Brain’s meticulous work.  Speaking of my Left Brain, poor little Left Brain is frantically trying to manage the chaos; alphabetize, color-coordinate, organize, straighten, and take a time-out for a breather before Hurricane Right Brain wreaks havoc again.  I’m still a little fuzzy on what, exactly, these two halves are battling over, but I’m pretty sure that my sanity hangs in the mix.

Here’s what.  While Operation Left Brain is putting up an excellent fight, I’m afraid at the moment Hurricane Right Brain is winning.  And it’s not pretty.

Operation Left Brain: Wow, it’s like a pig-sty up here…a pig-sty covered in glitter.  Where’s my rubber gloves and the bleach?  That glitter is the first thing to go, followed by a comprehensive clean sweep and trash consolidation.  Then I will print out several detailed spreadsheets and take care of all this mess business.  There are bills to be paid, an exercise regimen to get back on track, appointments to be scheduled, a Fantastic New Job to locate, interview for, accept a negotiated offer and the first week of sensible, responsible outfits to plan for new job.  Chop chop, time to get cracking!

Hurricane Right Brain: Woooooah Horsey.  Slow down.  Why don’t you just take a nice relaxing nature walk and paint those brainy walls of yours with an inspiring mural of exotic flowers and sunshiney sky.  And don’t even think about touching the glitter.

Left Brain: “Nature Walk” is not a priority and the glitter must be eliminated, stat.  I’m not painting a mural.  In the first place, we don’t have paintbrushes.  And we’ve got things that are more important than globby paint drippings and crooked, sparkly flowers.  We have got to send out a thousand resumes!

Right Brain: Oh, for heaven’s sake!  There are more important things than resumes!  Things like fluffy baby kittens and floaty cherubs with golden harps.   Why don’t you just cover that boring laptop of yours with some scratch-n-sniff stickers so I’ll at least have something interesting to look at.  And smell.  My favorite flavor is coconut. 

Left Brain: Not! A! Priority! There is no time for scratch-n-sniff stickers.  Honestly, Right Brain, don’t you think about ANYTHING?

Right Brain: Are you actually implying that I spend my time lolly-gagging about and using up your precious “brain power” in silly day dreams?  That one about Brad Pitt in bubble wrap was essential.  The idea for a Unicorn Reserve was brilliant and will be pitched to the U.N.  If they can save the Bergonians and those funny little people-animals from Narnia, SURELY they can save the Unicorns.  I mean, hello!  This is Important Stuff!

Left Brain: The U.N. doesn’t cover people-animals.  Or unicorns.  Now if you’ll just…

Right Brain: “The U.N. doesn’t cover unicorns”…you must think I was born yesterday.  Of course the U.N. covers Unicorns, it is their duty and responsibility to save the Unicorns.  U.N. = Unicorns Now.  Unicorns Now = U.N.  Capice?  They have no choice but to step in before these creatures meet their impending doom.  It was part of their Mission Statement for 2008.  I should know, they asked to use my original ballet, Unicorns in Distress, as part of their opening ceremonies.

Left Brain: Unbelievable.

Right Brain: You simply can’t understand that my spontaneous, creative ways make this world a better place.  My ideas populate the world with rainbows and Care Bears and bejeweled fantasy creatures. You can’t fathom anything more than bullet points and alphabetic lists and those stupid spreadsheets….

Left Brain: …Are you done?

Right Brain: All of your Unicorn and Care Bear animosity is starting to show on your face.  You have wrinkles.  And shiny spots on your forehead.  And furthermore, your chi is all messed up.  You need to take up Yoga or something because I don’t see how I can live with such an oppressive room-mate for one. more. second.

Left Brain: (Checking spreadsheet)  Actually, Yoga isn’t a bad idea.  It fits in nicely with a more stringent exercise routine.  In fact, Thursday nights would be perfect for Yoga.  Studies show that practicing meditative breathing and the stretching and strength training required for Yoga help release some of the intense emotions that tend to build in stressful circumstances.

Right Brain: Can we get a new Yoga outfit?  Something soft, with a cute little bunny on the front?  And maybe a fancy mat?

Left Brain: No, we cannot.  We’re on a budget.  A budget that does not include frivolous purchases like a matching workout ensemble. 

Right Brain: But I can’t go to Yoga in my daggy old tank tops and stretched out, saggy-bottom capris!  It’s not fair!

Left Brain: You will go, and you will like it.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to move on.  I’ve spent too much time already discussing the outfit you will wear while you attempt to release negative emotions.

Right Brain: But I can’t release negative emotions when I’m worrying what the Yogi Instructor thinks of my baggy-in-the-ass pants!  Besides, there’s a hole in the crotch!  You think I can relax and think about being at One with the Universe with a hole in my crotch?

Left Brain: The Yoga conversation is over.  You are not going to be dating your Yogi Instructor, so it doesn’t matter what he/she thinks of your backside, or your crotch.

Right Brain: If I convinced Handsome to come to Yoga with me could I get a new outfit?

Left Brain: Reminder–Budget.  The answer is still no.

Right Brain: Hmmm…I wonder what Handsome would look like in Yoga-wear.  I bet he’d make a great Warrior, all lungey and strong…

Left Brain: Do you mind?  I’m trying to sort though your piles of hastily scribbled “To-Do” lists.  And, may I add, your spelling is atrocious and your penmanship is actually offensive.  Seriously, who dots their ‘i’s with hearts?

Right Brain: Sensitive souls always use hearts; not that I would expect YOU to understand that.  I bet he’d look hott holding a downward facing staff; all back muscles and perfect viewing of his tight…

Left Brain: What does this say?  “Art for WIU”?  Is there an exhibit at the university?  Should I put it on the schedule.

Right Brain: Ummmmm….”Buy Artichokes for Whip It Up.”  Ack!  I need a recipe for this week!  Cheese!  Where’s my cheese!  Seriously, who moved my cheese?  If I don’t have that hunk of Havarti in two minutes so help me I’ll..

Left Brain: Stop.  Breathe.  We still have until Friday to post a recipe, it does not have to be centered around cheese, and right now we are sorting through piles.  I promise I will make you a very detailed spreadsheet of ingredients before you go to the grocery store.

Right Brain: Will you change that boring font to bubble letters?

Left Brain: No.

Right Brain: Bubble-letter hater.  (Gasp!) Ohmygoodness!!  What if I don’t make it to the grocery store?  What if I do make it to the grocery store but they are out of cheese?  And vegetables.  And power bars.  What if the grocery store is under siege and all they have left are moldy crackers and stale Dr. Pepper?!?  I can’t make a cheese-recipe with moldy crackers and stale Dr. Pepper! 

Left Brain: I’m not going to dignify that freak-out with a response. 

Right Brain: You know, when you say things like that, fairies fall down dead.

Left Brain: That is a lie.  Fairies don’t exist.

Right Brain: Fairy Killer!  You have blood on your hands!

Left Brain: Uh huh.  Except we don’t have hands.

Right Brain: I am going to write a tragic sonnet about how my heartless nemesis–that would be you–slaughtered the fairies.

Left Brain: No.  You are going to write a cover letter to The Company in Times New Roman font with standard margins and no hearts over your ‘i’s.  And you will write a Thank You note to Corporation to follow up with last week’s interview.  And it will not include a poem, a haiku, or any rhyming couplets.

Right Brain: Can I put it on scented paper?  Perhaps with an embossed seal showing our support for the U.N.

Left Brain: Are you completely deranged?!?  No!  And NO!

Right Brain: Can I include my headshot?  Maybe one I’ve autographed with a sparkly pen?

Left Brain: (taking deep breath)  You are applying at a respectable company for a respectable position.  The Company is not trying to hire an American Idol hopeful or a Professional Teenybopper.  Times New Roman, standard margins, white water-marked paper.  No scratch-and-sniff stickers.  And in the name of the Dewey Decimal System and all other things holy, no glitter.

Right Brain: You lead a small, sad little life.

Left Brain:  There is no acceptable (or unacceptable) response to your idiocy.  But I believe grandiose eye rolling is in order.

Right Brain: Hrmph.  I’m sure in one of those lame reference books of yours you would find an ”acceptable” response.  Right next to “How to Be A Square.”  If you could even find those lame-o books.  Seriously, this place is a mess.

Left Brain: What the?!?  What do you think I’ve been TRYING to do?  I have a plan to clean everything up and you?  YOU keep interrupting me with your stupid unicorns and imaginary coalitions and your bizarre day-dreams about prancing Care Bears wrapped in bubble paper and bedazzled scratch-n-sniff stickers!  Can’t you just LEAVE ME ALONE!

Right Brain:  Ooooh!  Bedazzled scratch-n-sniff stickers… I bet the U.N. would finance those if they had Unicorns on them!

Left Brain:  GAAAAH!  STOP IT WITH THE DAMN UNICORNS!

Right Brain:  Hehee, I made Lefty say a sweary word!  You know, you are already on the “Bad List” of the International Fairy Coalition, I really wouldn’t go messing with the Unicorns as well.  Those guys have People.  And their People can be pretty scary.  How would you like a Steve Buscemi Centaur to put you back in your place?  Hmmmm?

Left Brain:  I hate you.

Right Brain:  Awww…that’s not true.  No one hates me.  I’m shiny!  Like patent leather shoes and new quarters and that crazy judge on So You Think You Can Dance.  Besides, I smell like strawberries.

Left Brain: ……

Right Brain:  Tra la la la laaaaa la.

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