By: William G. Muir
How do you cope when you have nothing to say? Take this article for example, I am sitting here trying to think of something to write about. Yet I have no clue what it should be. Why is it that when I try to think of something to write about my mind becomes an empty palette. The once fertile play ground of my mind, where whimsical notions dance and sign, becomes a dried desert when I try to make myself come up with idea.
It's when I am not trying to think of something to say that my mind works overtime. When left to its own device my mind switches into hyper mode and all kind of phantasms live their lives out right before my mind's eye. Most of the time my mind is a parallel universe where the strange and the fantastical reign supreme. It is world where king charge into to battle to fight for the honor of the fairest maiden. Where hybrids of creatures that have no right to exist terrorize the innocent.
But why does all of this disappear when I am confronted with the challenge to think. If you wish to see me struggle just ask we what my thoughts are on a subject. Cause at the moment every thought that I could possible have on that exact subject flea in terror. They scramble madly to exit my mind; as if they were being chased by the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Yet there is no Toymaker's basement for them to hide in.
Thing is I cannot remember a time in my life when this has not been the case. I can still remember being a young kid (how odd that I describe being young as a kid, when was the last time you heard of an old kid) sitting in class and the teacher breaking out the flash cards. No matter what function of math it was; be it addition, subtract, multiplication or division. Once the teacher held up a card for me to try and answer I would go blank. I couldn't even come up with a wrong answer. My mind would freeze up like car engine on a cold winter morning.
Only once did I ever know the answer. I was thrilled at that moment. I shoot up out of my seat on to my feet. I poked my finger into the stack of card the teacher was holding. This knocked them out of her hand and tumbled to the ground. And I shouted out the answer.
I think I might have been a little bit excited to know the answer.
I wish that when asked a question that my mind wouldn't become just a lump of fat. I would really like for my neural path ways to work the way they should and start firing thoughts across my synapse. It would be nice to be able to answer somebodies question why wanted to know my opinion. Especially on such trivial matters like what is my top five favorite movies. Or which bands do
I think are the best.
I think are the best.
I just don't have that kind of luck. What ends up happening is that I look like I am indecisive. But honestly I am not. If only you could peer into my mind when you haven't asked me a question. You just might be able to catch a glimpse of the chaos that is swirling inside there. Or then again my mind might being experiencing it's very own collapsing wave function. Maybe when examined my mind goes from existing in all possible realities to existing in only one. The only problem being that it always ends up in the most boring reality of all those that are possible.
That always seems to be my luck.
Then again what would I do if I knew the answers? Would I then feel obligated to share them? How could I possible stand back and not share what it is I know? If I knew how to fix things there could be noway that I could just hold back that kind of information. My own guilt would start to eat away at me. I would become a wreck of a human being. My inner voice would be telling me just how awful of a person I was to be hording knowledge that should be shared with everyone.
I am man and what I am belongs to all of mankind.
But alas I have no answers. I have nothing to share with the whole of humanity. My words shrivel up and die whenever they try to venture to far from my mind. I am but child that has been left out in the cold. I can feel the chill creeping throughout my body. My body involuntary shivers just trying to keep itself warm. But it is of no use. Eventually the freezing temperatures will consume my body and I will pass from this world. All I will have left behind is an empty husk where once a soul did dwell.
(Someone sure thinks of themselves as a poet, don't they?)
Let's just face reality for a moment. We live in a video game culture. Nothing is real anymore. Our world comes to use through electrical pulses. We live in a world that is in one of two states. Either it is on or it is off. We have become slaves to the binary code. But we do not see it because our eyes have been blinded by the false images that it spits out to us. What lies behind all those colors is just a series of 1's and 0's. That's what we have become. We are either one or a zero. But never both at anytime.
I guess this is where I thank you for letting me ramble on. For letting me try and get what it is in my head down on paper. Of course in our new world we rarely put things down on paper any more. Mostly we put them in inside some silicone chips. Where it is stored as a series of 1's and 0's. (Blasted digital world!)
Now I must hit save and prepare to load this to my blog. If you are reading this you are one of a very few who have stumbled across it. I hope you have enjoyed my descent into the maelstrom like vortex that often times is my mind. And I hope that you see fit to share some of this insanity with your friends. Thank you.