Thoughts of Note

There’s so much going on in life. Can I handle it all? Am I making wrong decisions? Even with well-intentioned people giving advice, it’s still hard to know what to do. Maybe if I could understand this brain of mine I’d be more capable at doing what I want, but isn’t that one of the great mysteries of life, the functioning of the human brain?

For a while, back when I was twenty-one (seven years ago), I thought about becoming a cardiac surgeon. I didn’t think it was a bad idea, but when I realized how much school and money it would take, I reconsidered. And then, of course, I wanted to be a musician, too. (Always. I love singing and playing the piano. It’s my thang.)

Speaking of how incredible the human mind is, I am so grateful to have the brain that I do. I know, by myself, I’m not that smart, but this brain I got up here is a lot more attentive and concise than I could ever rightly conceive of. I’ll write words in the correct context, but I couldn’t give you a definition of what they are. I just know them. Things like that I think are really cool.

It’s mostly genetics probably, but I have worked tirelessly to keep my mind strong. Part of this is because I have mental disorders, and my sanity is the only thing that keeps me psychologically intact. In this case, writing is definitely a life-saver. It’s great to read too, though, because I then have the opportunity to see what great things are in the mind of another person. Right on.

How great it would be if the entire world appreciated each other a little more, but I guess life’s a little bit more complicated than that. There are so many things that could happen that could mess up the methodical rhythm that is one going about his or her normal day, but through faith in something, there’s also more hope to be more productive in one’s endeavors than not.

I can imagine a guiding hand helping my brain to become stronger, because I sure as heck wouldn’t know where to start in increasing my intellectual capacity . . . I bet I’m not the only writer that is a willing slave to the blank page, an inviting, but ever-intimidating challenge, one that must be pursued relentlessly! Writing has a chokehold on me, because without it, there’s only one word for my fate: Irredeemable madness!