I am a brain. I sit inside of a skull where it is completely dark and warm. I am surrounded by fluid. I know things. I am wired up to a variety of biological components which allow me to sense light, physical touch, smells, and variegated compression waves of air which break upon me like the waves upon a shore. (You know, rock music!)
But normally I do not speak to people this way. I don’t say, “I am a brain.” I say, rather, “I have a brain.” I say, my brain does this, or my brain does that. I have read books about the structure of my brain. (See, I did it right there, referred to myself as “my brain”.)
I find it interesting that I refer to myself as “my brain”. If it is more correct to say that I have a brain, then what am I? What am I that is in possession of this brain object? If the brain does the number crunching, to what corporeal structure does it deliver the data?
I started writing this entry because I find it comical that my brain refers to itself as “my brain.”