A Romantic Comedy Or Not

Me: “We need to cook some jollof rice today since we promised that we would do that this weekend and share the result with others.”

My Mind: “I feel like sitting on the couch all day today. I have to say no. I have also sent messages to the body to stay on the couch.”

Me: “I thought we agreed that we would do ‘quote of the day’ once a week and ‘healthy food for colitis sufferer’ once a week. But so far we haven’t done any of it.”

My Mind: “I can’t function under duress, OK? Remember you forced me to write the entire story of an Asian team surviving corporate downsizing, which turns out to be rather disappointing. Remember? If I’m forced, I become very cross and very dull.”

Me: “What can I do to make you motivated?”

My Mind: “Leave me alone, will you? I just want to sit here today and do nothing but to read.”

Me: “As an immigrant, you are supposed to work 24/7 and grinning from ear to ear with happiness for the opportunity. Try to learn from Cindy’s uncle running his tiny takeout restaurant. He works hard, and pretends he’s happy even if he’s bleeding for months, before finally being diagnosed with stomach cancer.”

My Mind: “Your model can’t motivate me. If anything, he just depresses me more than I can ever depress myself. By the way, his stomach cancer has nothing to do with his being an immigrant. It is caused by his drinking, oily food, and irregular schedule. You know he drives 100 miles to Atlantic City every Sunday night and gambles for 24 hour straight.”

Me: “Oh, come on, he won’t be able to face a week’s grueling work if he doesn’t drink or doesn’t throw away some money at the Tropicana black jack. Without his sin, he can’t keep up with his virtue.”

My Mind: “You do understand Cindy’s uncle. I wish you apply the same kind of understanding on your own mind and body.”

Me: “I concede. If you want to read on the couch, how about ‘Cymbeline’? That’s a romantic comedy, fit for Valentine’s day.”

My Mind: “Oh, shut up. All those twisted grammar and weird spelling and unbearable ‘thee’ plus ‘thou’. Shakespeare is for native speakers when they want to torture themselves in order to feel ‘cultivated’. It’s not for you. You know. Immigrants only use English in the most practical way possible. We have enough nostalgia to torture us with. No need for another…. Wait, where are you going?”

Me: “I am going out. There’s a phrase called, ‘going out of your mind’.”