Sometimes I feel like my brain is slipping away from me. Last night I was trying to argue a point to a friend about the difference in intelligence between Clinton and Bush, and I could not get my arguement together. I think a combination of factors has made my brain turn to mush. I rely far too much on spell check (although I am kicking that habit); I use my cell phone instead of my memory for phone numbers (resulting in a freak-out session on my birthday when I couldn’t find a friend and had lost my cell phone–note, I was quite drunk); My job is not particularly intellectual; I am constantly coming up with new questions to answer, which in and of itself is a good thing, but rather than write them down, I stop working or cleaning, or whatever I may have been doing to hop on the internet and do a quick google; I feel as though I have lost the desire to read intellectual books, quite possibly because I am “researching” the Chick Lit genre constantly so I can write my own Chick Lit book; if I really need something to worry about, I just think of my grandmother, that does it everytime; if I have nothing else to worry about, I allow my brain to turn to thoughts of money, and lack there of, and how energy prices mean I am paying $250 a month more than last year to run my life; and if I am not thinking of worrisome things, I think about boys. Boys, boys, boys. Who likes me, who doesn’t. Why doesn’t he like me? Why do I care? Maybe I can be happy without one for the rest of my life?
The constant speed of my mind and its invariable desire to keep moving in new directions is simultaneously mutilating the other half of my brain. The part that stores wonderful knowledge and used to be capable of remembering anything. Now I seem hardpressed to keep anything in there for long that is actually worth its salt. I can give you more junk information than I care to think about, but let me try to formulate a political or historical thought and my mind dissolves into a small puddle of muck. It’s not to say I can’t still think with some intellect. In fact, just yesterday I helped a friend running a political campaign figure out how to spin a situation his candidate is involved in, but I feel like in between moments of lucidity, my brain has become so crowded with worry, boys, and frustration that I can’t find room for the simple arguement or phone number.
I am hoping this is a temporary state, and that if perhaps, I encourage myself to read a few pieces of classical literature or non-fiction works and focus a little more on the task at hand and allow the thoughts to slip away instead of allowing them to take over, that I might be able to get back to what I think of as my Master’s degree mind. The period of time when I was engrossed in intelligent discussions and read important books. When I had achieved the higher level of thought you are supposed to gain from higher level classes. When my mind was being push instead of allowed to drag itself around on its heels.