Brainshambles

Sometimes my thoughts are so loud that I can’t hear my mouth and the ideas become bottle necked, knocking on the front of my skull. They all want to escape and dance around other people’s skulls but despite years of practice my lips still can’t catch up to my brain. And after what feels like hours of dialogue [when really, only a minute's time has passed] I leave my receiver baffled. The concepts all make sense in my head and in my heart. I feel I have a fairly decent [lie, I feel I have an above average, more than adequate] vocabulary with which to express these abstractions.

And perchance that is all they are, these thoughts–abstract bundles of nervous energy transformed and recycled on a regularly scheduled daily upload. Nonsensical data, subconsciously [almost robotically] strung together in an order that appears functional enough to the naked eye. And I say functional enough, because it appears that functional enough is all one must be to secure a cozy little presence in this world. But why do we settle for just enough when so much more is available? Who really makes it…who wins? Those who are the most skilled and best rehearsed liars, fillers and survivors? Or those who fight the fatigue and the fear of extraneous thought in hopes of breaking a new dawn?

Or is it situational? I’ve resigned to the fact that everything is situational, always. And this might be a great epiphany, because it means maybe more than half of our lives can be measured successfully by exerting only a fraction of our potential energy. I am a tired girl, this should be great news. But it’s not, really.

The best combination [in terms of twenty-first century, consumerist society] of personality traits would be equal parts brave thinker, and talented cunning socialite.

If I think of myself [which I do a lot here, as this is my egotistically purchased corner of the internet], I want to be talented in all of the above listed traits. No, I don’t aspire to be a great bullshitter. But I would like to be a talented socialite, able to float amongst different crowds of people, pleasing all the way. I’d like to put on the best, most believable show [so believable, that even I fool myself...because at that point, it isn't a lie]. Concurrently, while conducting this fabulous light show I want to radiate new ideas and make things GOOD. That last bit of the sentence sounds poorly written or edited. But it is truly that simple. I want to make things good.

I took a speech class my senior year of high school [and killed it, naturally]. I will never forget reading over the edits my teacher made on the first draft of my speech on the social history of graffiti. I used the word “ideals” in a sentence, and she crossed it out and wrote in angry red letters “IDEALS?? I THINK YOU HAVE THE WRONG WORD HERE.” And I was so irritated because I had picked the perfect word. I knew what it meant, it flowed perfectly, and I’ll never forget how frustrated I felt knowing that this woman refused to believe that I understood on first flow of the pen what the word “ideals” meant.

I didn’t write “ideas”. I wrote “ideals”. Not because I wanted to look or sound fancy. But because it’s what I thought. What a great speech it was in the end, carefully researched and well executed. I didn’t change “ideals” to “ideas”, I kept it as written.

B+