Back Up Your Brain

Our poor brains! We store everything in them: our career aspirations, weekly schedule, holiday plans, flight itineraries, cousin’s birthdays, itch to learn more about wine. On top of that, we cram them with memories (he was holding a flashlight), associations (Christmas: go to the gray beach alone and swim with your jeans on) our whole pattern of relating to the opposite sex (too hard), and identity (I am an artist I am an artist I am an artist).

After crowding them with this stuff, we then ask them to solve all our problems. They must detect our surroundings (is this mustard or curry in my sandwich?), decode our personal interactions (are they trying to get rid of me?), direct our behavior (don’t curse in front of patients!), get us safely through traffic (do these drivers stop at crosswalks?), judge other people (I think the woman pointing her camera at us is unstable), judge information (he’s telling the truth) laugh at the right place in jokes (so Italian public school teachers are supposed to be funny right now?), make major life decisions (yes, move to New York) and break those decisions into manageable steps (check craigslist).

Then we want them to make art for us. We wonder why we feel overwhelmed. We order another overpriced coffee, mostly warm milk, and we drink it very slowly, not knowing where to begin.

I love the statues of Kali (I think it’s Kali) with four arms. It’s a desire I’ve often heard expressed, especially from new mothers, the wanting of extra limbs. As artists, what we’d usually like is an extra head. Luckily I have the next best thing.

For about five months now, I have been carrying around a little notebook and a pen. Each time I notice my brain informing me of something I want to do or remember, I try to write it down. Each time I notice someone else informing me of something I want to do or remember, I try to write it down. It’s taken some getting used to, it’s taken some focus, it’s taken some time, and it’s still taking some organizing, but really, I can’t imagine how I lived without this little tool. And yes, I affectionately refer to it as my other brain.

Since using it, I’ve noticed

• I remember more and as a result of this
• I have less anxiety about forgetting
• I keep in better contact with people!
• I pay more attention to little hunches and intuition
• I pay more attention to what seems like frivolous desires (often the guise of inspiration)
• I trust myself more

And an old friend commented that I appear to be forgetting less and getting more done!

This new habit isn’t entirely without drawbacks. For one thing, I have to remember the notebook itself (and a pen). I can’t take it in the shower. I can’t use it when I drive or bicycle (or at least, I shouldn’t). It makes me appear even more eccentric to strangers when I whip this thing out. It is possible to lose or forget this. And the sheer volume of writing can be a pain.

Nonetheless, I love my extra brain and suggest you run and get your own! I’ll post soon detailing all the specifics I can think of, but if this sounds appealing, for now you may want to consider these questions:

• How do I remember things?
• What are the drawbacks of remembering things this way?
• What are the benefits?
• Does this work for me?

And if you already have an extra brain, I’d love to hear how you manage it and how you like it!