Mind-work

I always (not sometimes, not often, not mostly, but always) get this urge to write. However, along with this unrelenting desire to concretize my thoughts is this constant feeling that what I will be writing will never measure up to what is actually going on inside my head, regardless of the crucial and painstaking process of making sure that what I would write will completely capture my ideas, from the minutest detail to the largest picture, from the most superficial observation to the deepest realization. How many times have I caught myself thinking aloud about how I badly want a device that can automatically save the exact contents of my mind.

It strikes me as odd that in most cases, though, my ideas come in the most bizarre forms. I hear them as unintelligible swooshing sounds, but not with my ears. Or I see them as flashes of lines and colors, but not with these poor eyes. It's crazy. What's sure is that I understand them (weirdly enough), but they don't make it easy for me to make them understandable to others. They seldom come in words, for crying out loud. I have this theory that they are pouring in way too fast to the point that my brain gives up on trying to box them in the realm of language. It's like a stampede. You don't give out name tags to people in a stampede.

I can't sustain a thought long enough to give me time to find a pen and a paper, or to open Evernote, or to Compose a Message, so that I may jot it down. That's because it gets replaced by yet another fresh (or maybe just a persistent) topic. It would be tolerable if the replacement takes place in a linear manner, but no. There is overriding, clashing, overlapping, and disjunct of ideas all in the same head, all at the same time. It's safe to say that the most chaotic place in the world for me is my head. 


It gets tiring - a working mind. The worst thing is that one cannot bring about the cessation of the process. It continues as long as one is awake. 



The irony is that the process is what keeps me from sleeping.