I Against I

It is the two of us, together. We go to all the same places, inseparable. My animal and my mind. The two sides of what is me. There is no choice in the matter, foreigners joined by fate. Handcuffed together and making a run for it. Like any good drama, each are complicated characters with wants and needs, foibles and weaknesses. Like any good comedy, they are opposites in most regards, an odd couple who are linked by a unified desire to Be. Like the grand tragedy/comedy of life, there is no protagonist or antagonist. Those constructs only diminish the value of each.  

Everyone knows me by my animal, the face with which I navigate the outside world, but I spend more time in my mind. The complicated things are there, spinning like a washing machine lumbering and bumping with a load of shoes. My mind tries to make sense of things, it elaborates and imagines, it constructs pretenses and conclusions. It is a house of judgement and ridicule. My animal is simpler. The base of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs pyramid is dedicated to the animal. It wants food, water, warmth, and could honestly rest most of the day if not kept in check. My animal wants sex and booze and salted fried fat. The ideal day for my animal is a bacchanalian orgy involving lots of breaks for sleep and breakfast. My animal is simple. In the casting of the Odd Couple, my animal is Oscar all the way. My mind, however, is a hard Felix. My mind can’t take things easy, must analyze, re-analyze, and over-analyze. It tries to organize and stay neat. Every decision scrutinized, every possible encounter thought out in detail. I hear my inner voice far more often than I speak out loud. My mind only remembers my animal is there when I pass a mirror or my pants are too tight. It is self-absorbed.

My animal is always trying to fuck everything and my mind is like, “remember everyone’s feelings and societal norms!” and my animal calls my mind a pussy and then my mind makes my animal masturbate to calm the fuck down, then my animal drinks a bunch so my mind has no idea what it’s up to… it’s a vicious cycle.

With the unwritten truce of a watering hole where predator and prey can occasionally drink together, animal and mind resist exercise and eating healthy as a singular, unified force. Good habits are the most difficult to form due to this collaboration.

The experts claim that I don’t work this way, that identity is intertwined, or made of more parts, or an illusion. I know me, however. I know the dividing line that separates the meat me from the electro-chemical me.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to drag these two jerks off to do some exercise.