Posted in Other Stuff, Writing

Brain in a Jar

My husband says I would be happy if I were just a brain in a jar. I was pleased until I realized he didn’t necessarily mean it as a compliment.

I was hoping he meant that I was the sort of person who would bloom wherever I was planted. You know, even if I were a brain in a jar.

Turns out he means that I am so disconnected from Planet Earth, I wouldn’t particularly notice if my body went missing.

He’s right. I have what the psychologists charitably call “a rich interior life.” This means that as a child, I had very involved conversations with stuffed animals. As an adult, I write novels. (These two activities are more alike than you may think.)

And my “rich interior life” detracts from my exterior life. The life that my husband assures me is REAL life. Real life remains a rather hazy concept for me. For example, right now I am lying on my back with my laptop braced against my knee, typing. My husband is walking around the house, doing things. It cannot be denied that his choice is a healthier one than mine. Back on Planet Earth, where I’m told I reside, choices have consequences.

Oh, dear.

Of course, one of the advantages of being a brain-in-a-jar person is that the consequences of inactivity don’t faze you as much as they doubtless should. I notice that people who were athletic back in their day are really disturbed when they discover they can’t do things they used to do. I could never really do anything, so there’s nothing for me to miss. As long as the ol’ brain hangs in there, I’ll be fine. Just pop me in a jar and take me to the beach once in a while.

While I last. [insert hollow laughter]

But don’t page Dr. Frankenstein just yet. My thoughtful husband found a workaround for my layabout tendencies. He bought me a Wii. It was really a stroke of brilliance on his part, because this silly little invention combines fantasy with activity. I get so fascinated by bicycling around an imaginary island that I don’t notice I am being active. So my body can move around while my brain stays in the jar, as it were.

Ah, technology. Where would we be without you?


2 thoughts on “Brain in a Jar

    1. Sunshine …. ah, yes, I remember sunshine. And fresh air. You don’t think opening the windows would be adequate?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s