The Imperfect Incarnation of Ideas

Why do I don’t do the things I want to do when I actually get time to do them, while I spend the time I’m not doing them not doing anything at all (even when I have things to do) because I’m not doing what I want to be doing?

[What a bewildering display of grammatical dexterity. Did anyone follow that?]

To anchor it in reality: The open page (for example) calls to me when I am not writing, making it hard to focus on the task at hand, yet when the time comes to write, suddenly I find myself doing anything else – reading the news, checking e-mail, playing a game, installing software. My hands and mind are constantly playing a game of tag with my heart, leading me on, then darting away when it looks like I’m about to grasp the object of my desire.

It’s like I would rather want something than actually get it.

Or maybe the idea of self-expression is less uncomfortable than the arduous task of articulating the thoughts that drift like old mist through my brain.

Creating boundaries for ideas is so freaking intimidating. It always feels like I’m lopping off limbs once I have to set music to page or pencil to paper (actually, fingers to keys in this computerized age —I haven’t written anything longhand since Pet Shop Boys loitered on the Top 40 airwaves).

It’s like trying to package too much cooked spaghetti into Tupperware, where I always end up crushing far too many danglers when I jam on the lid. Every time I create something, ideas like limp noodles always seem to litter the floor.

I hate that. I hate how everything is so interconnected that to actually express something concretely means you have to leave part of it out just so that people can get a sense of it. It’s like the world is too big, and to digest it, we have to dice everything into itty-bitty pieces and study them one at a time, which means it’s no longer a large beautiful single piece that can be savored in one sitting but just a jumble of disconnected ideas.

The human mind is like a baby’s appetite; it can’t digest anything unless it’s been ground down to mush first.

Still Processing

Today part of an ongoing troubling situation came up and my wife sent me an emotional e-mail. As I went to type in a response, I just closed the browser and called home instead, to talk to her directly.

That was weird. I know I did the right thing, that calling rather than writing was what I needed to do, but why would I even have to think about it first? Why do I always have to pass through a logical process first without just instinctively having a gut reaction? Nowadays my choices come quicker, the thoughts are not as laborious, so they seem to others to be gut reactions, spontaneous, but inside it was like this:

1. My wife is upset and hurting.
2. She really needs someone to talk to directly.
3. I need to call home.

I actually had to progress through the logic chart. I think some people who “think” with their hearts (it’s not really “thinking” at all, but feeling) would have just sensed her hurt and called home without considering anything at all.

Part of me is frustrated with myself, critical of this inability to just react out of emotion and concern. Even my best friend, who possesses the same logical thought progression as I do, seems softer-hearted. But I’ve been working on it for years, and even now I only can “emulate” feeling behavior via my logical thought processes, not replace it.

This is part of the self-loathing or non-acceptance towards myself my counselor and I’ve discussed. I’m disappointed that I can’t do everything equally well and want to be everything to all people. I expect myself to be everyone, to be as good as everyone.

My thought process is not a curse but a gift, an ability to quickly evaluate a set of ideas, thus better directing my choices and behavior. (Geez, even NOW I sound like a flarkin’ robot. Just to talk about this only emphasizes my point.)

I need to learn to accept that that’s who I am, and perhaps eventually I will be able to act similarly to those who just react from the heart, but I will never be them, nor process things like them.

And that it’s okay for me to be this way. I’m simply who I am, and free to be it.