Sunday, September 9, 2012

Cricketical Thinking


I've officially been in Wichita for 38 days.

Wikipedia defines an organ as a collection of tissues joined in a structural unit to serve a common function. I always thought it was weird that we called the brain an organ. I mean, sure, it makes sense: it's a functioning part of your body with a purpose.

But I've always thought of the brain as so much more than that. I don't think my brain is part of me. I think my brain IS me. I'm not a 6'0, 175 pound male. I'm a 5 pound slab of neurons and transmitters that is piloting a 6'0, 175 pound male. It's like Krang from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

I think the brain is everything you think you are. It's your personality, your likes and dislikes, your favorite pizza topping.

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"So when did you move here?"

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A lot of crickets have been coming into my place. I had to buy some spray to kill them.

As a kid, I imagined that the chirping from crickets came from them playing violins at night. Only males chirp, so they're playing their violins to attract females. I imagined they would think of their favorite song, and play it, eyes darting for the slight hope of the attention from a female cricket. The crickets in my apartment are alone, and the female crickets can't really hear them. I felt like night after night, they would finish their song, put their head down in disappointment, and go to sleep.

I felt like buying the spray was putting them out of their misery.

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