Sunday, June 21, 2009

Time Share

My mind is divided into sections. Like a cubby system. Or, if you want a better image, like those mazes that lab-rats are let loose in. On occasion, items in certain cubbies will ... create a kind of spill over. And in that case, I have to re-allot my thoughts, and assign more groundspace for these unfinished projects.

Of course, - those are for the nice, smaller issues. Like my cubby for 'writing.' Within that cubby are hundreds of ideas, just bursting out of the tiny space like fireworks. So on occasion, I have to regroup. Try and switch cubbies with another train of thought. (Like 'school', which is retiring anyway, and thus needs far less space to live.)

Now all this shuffling around leads to inter-office dating. Which leads to other things, which leads to a marriage of thoughts in a sense, which can on occasion lead to a duality of subjects in the cubbies. I could write about school, for example, or go back to school for writing. This creates unavoidable parallells between cubbies, and thus moving them far from their homes can be dangeroius to my very psyche. so instead, I rent the space out to my thoughts, and They share the space.

Time Share.

And amid all those cubbies -are my memories, providing the framework of the thousands of little thought processes eternally being bartered for, traded, shuffled about and thrown around in the post office of my mind.

...And amid those shuffles, i completely forgot what it was I was going to SAY about all this. Ah well, better luck next time?

Oru

2 comments:

  1. My thoughts are often a great roiling ocean from the northern expanses, dotted with ideas frozen and floating on the surface.

    Sometimes a little 'berg will collide and join with another creating a larger, sometimes lumpy idea. Sometimes they crash and burst apart into tiny fragments soon to join the great waters below.

    These thoughts melt and reform day to day, hour to hour; the same elements comprise each thought, but sealed up in its own unique snowflake-form.

    Want to go for a boatride of a life-time?

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  2. I used to claim that there were at least seven discrete (but not overly discreet) layers of my brain, all working independently. One layer almost constantly sings. Should any wandering telepath try to pick my brain, they are far more likely to find an alphabetical list of villains in the Duckverse (Ducktales, Darkwing Duck, Talespin) or the lyrics to Light My Candle than anything useful. However, as such, I am constantly reiterating things I really ought to remember to write about later. Or pulling out my PocketPC, mini-notebook, or voice recorder so I can be momentarily free of the burden of keeping these tiny cognitions safe.

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