Brain Drain-O

I remember reading somewhere that humans only use 10% of our brains. Admittedly I don’t recall where I read this, it could have been a medical journal; it could just as easily have been a Calvin and Hobbes comic. The source is not important, what is important is that I’m adopting it as true and basing the rest of this on that newly christened fact. Because wow- 10% - that’s a pretty meager slice of the brain pie. Mmm, brain pie a la mode with a Creutzfeldt-Jakob crust. Ymmm.

I’ve crunched some numbers with the help of Google and my algebra abilities, and I now know that we each have approximately six cups of gray matter jiggling about betwixt our ears. Keep in mind that this is only an average, some people will have more; others, considerably less. Your mileage may vary, but one tenth of this quivering gray mass is about one heaping half-cup of working neurons. The others laze about, napping and basking in the sunlight that probably shouldn’t be there, so why don’t you get that head wound checked out already? Surely there’s a reason that 90% of our brains are on perma-vacation. I actually thing they do work, albeit a kind of passive work. In my head, the lazy cells are receptacles for useless knowledge- and they’re good at what they do.

One area my brain specializes in is “knowledge so useless it would make the Trivial Pursuit card-writers roll their eyes and ask, ‘Where on earth did you learn that?’” I am an embarrassment when it comes to geography, but ask me about Stockholm syndrome and I’m there for ya. Stock market? I’ll pass. But if you’re curious about the intricacies of card organization at Hallmark, I got your back. I know strange medical terms, but would probably have to stop and think for a while if called upon to perform CPR, which probably wouldn’t bode well for the victim. I can tell you what a syzygy is (near-alignment of three celestial bodies in a gravitational system), the average number of dimples on a golf ball (336), or what Britney Spears has been subsisting on lately (Cheetos, Red Bull and whatever the complimentary meal tonight is on an acne-riddled one-way flight to oblivion). I can’t remember half the streets around my house, but I can lead you through the plot-arcs of X-Files (except for that last season, and I doubt even the writers could help you there). My Spanish is iffy, but I can tell a Burmese cat from an Abyssinian from twenty paces. I can sing Barenaked Ladies’ “One Week” with 100% accuracy, tell you who broke what during the filming of The Lord of the Rings, explain how luminol works, and I’m going to end this paragraph before I begin to wonder how I function as a normal member of society.

Another large portion (I’d estimate a cup of brain) is used for some knowledge that I didn’t even think I had retained. I played Super Mario Brothers 3 for the first time in many moons, and I’m happy to report that my Nintendo reflexes have not been dulled in the least. I know where the warp whistles are, how to get the white coin ship to appear, and that the princess isn’t going to be in any of the first seven castles. Let me also clarify that my skills have not increased, they have merely remained the same. I still cannot beat the memory card game. And while I can zip right to level seven without cheating, I then promptly lose every single 1UP I’ve earned and die with virtually no chance of ever saving Peach. Sorry. No, not sorry. She’s nothing but annoying in MarioKart. Also retained: all Dr. Mario ability, my feckless PowerPad skills, and my knack for grabbing the good controller. Congratulations, Player One.

I believe the majority of my otherwise dormant neurons are clogged with an oft-used repertoire of movie quotes. It’s amazing I can think at all considering the number of movie scripts I have stored up there. I could possibly have an entire conversation using only- oh, who am I kidding? I have done that. Without even really trying that hard. And most of them were probably from Tommy Boy, because really, is there anything to do in this town besides eat? Sure, there’s lots of stuff to do. Late night at the Pitch’n’Putt, throw stuff off a bridge- and here we go again. It is intriguing to think what I could accomplish if my synapses weren’t so encumbered with the likes of “Avoid the clap” and “If I could go back in time, I’d want to meet Snoopy.”

There has been speculation about what we would be able to do if we utilized a greater percentage of our brainpower. Besides just being really good at multiplication tables, but that’d be cool too. I was thinking powers like in the movie Phenomenon. But let’s not go there specifically, because A) that brings us back to movies again and B) that movie sucked. And also kinda because C) that was one of the most misleading trailers ever in life, I mean, come on- the trailer screamed “OH MY GOD ALIENS!” and the movie just chuckled derisively and said, “Thanks for your money, suckers- try tumor” and not even in a funny Schwarzenegger accent. Awful, possibly Scientology-linked movies aside, brains are a mystery. Lots of people seem to think that more brainpower could mean telekinesis. That’d be cool, like a metaphysical version of those shark-head-on-a-stick grabbers. But there comes a point where it’s like, come on, man. Just get up and get the cheese salsa yourself. This from a girl who didn’t get up to answer the phone until the machine picked up to see if it was first of all for me and second of all “worth it” to get up. (If I ever picked up after the beep when you called, heh- remember that? If you never got an answering machine pickup- uh, I wasn’t home.) Sweet, sweet hypocrisy. Delicious.

But, seriously? Let’s branch out a little bit. How about pyrokinetics? That’d be fun. And useful! S’mores, whenever you wanted ‘em! But probably, what you saved in not buying matches would be made up for in buying burn ointments. At least until you got the hang of it. Or how about flying? Well, I suppose that’s just telekinesis on yourself. Maybe you could... solve complex differential equations without a graphing calculator or an abacus. Read entire obscure Russian novels in a single sitting! Master the Spanish subjunctivo without the aid of flashcards! You know, if you read those claims like they’re the opening credits of the old Superman show, the lameness is decreased by... not much at all. Sigh. Maybe I could think of more if my brain weren’t so hopelessly clogged. Or maybe I should just go watch tv, since clearly, that’s where my mind is going anyway. Did you know the first wireless television remote was invented in 1955? Speaking of which, I can’t seem to find mine. The tv is so far away... maybe I’ll just watch- what’s this? QVC? Ah well, the phone is safely out of reach, and my brain’s not clogged enough to make me think I need a crying ceramic clown. Shill on, QVC. Shill on.