forsyth | Tonight

My brain feels all jittery and oddly shaped in my head. This is probably largely because of the sheer amount of STUFF I've exposed it to tonight. I really need to learn to do things like pace myself. Reading Pratchett, then going to see "What the @$!# do We Know?" which was interesting in seveal parts, then coming home and reading Transmetropolitan collection 0, and then Planetary Book 2 is probably not the best idea. Doesn't leave any of it time to settle into my brain. Oh, and Girl Genius issue 12. And then I get on here and write about doing it, rather than thinking about it. It's learning by osmosis, or the "Throw it at the wall and see what sticks" method. Doesn't leave much time to digest things properly like I should. And leaves me all weirdly influenced and stuff. Especially since my writing style seems to flux a bit, based on what I've been reading or listening to lately. So, what does this mean? I dunno, I'm just pounding the keys to pin down what happened before I forget it all, and when I come back and look at it later.

But I'm not explaining how I'm feeling at all, or what it actually feels like, in part because I'm not sure how to describe it. My brain is squeaking right above and behind my eyes, but that might just be a little bit of dehydration and tiredness kicking in. Things are running around in my head, Spider's ranting, bits about quantum physics and biochemistry of the brain from the movie, the awesomeness that is Planetary, which I couldn't even properly appreciate since I read it all in one gulp, one of the downsides of TPBs, and bits of my own, bits of Lords and Ladies, the ferret, all jumbled and whatnot, but all mostly just surface, since I didn't give any of it time to sink in before dumping my brain into another vat of weirdass ideas and culture.

Random thought. A lot of our reactions are influenced by chemicals and stuff, in our brains, and the connections between nerve cells. And right now, most of my links between things relating to love are to things about disappointment or sadness, which isn't a good thing, and also explains sorta on that level why people have rebound relationships, they've got the network there, and without the person it used to apply to, somebody else close enough to hit most of the same triggers can kick that in, it's not JUST sheer stupidity. That's two notes, or three, rather than just one, though.

But we're thinking beings, that's part of the whole bloody point of being human, so we are capable of reprogramming ourselves from things like that. Also, another related note above, why time heals things, sorta, since the neural triggers don't kick in, they don't stay as established, so gradually the emotional association fades. In theory, though that doesn't always happen, and can get ugly, witness stalkers. Anyway. So, yeah, once you know more like why you associate things with other things and why you think and act like you do, you can do things to change it, that's the wonderful part of being human. Sure, you can change it without knowing why you're doing, just stumble through life, but that's different, sorta. Though that's what most of us are doing every day anyway.

I forget if I had a point anywhere in this, but I think this goes to prove you don't need drugs to have nice long rambling semi-hallucinatory tirades. My brain chemistry is quite screwed up enough on its own without any need for help from recreational narcotics. Aside from sleep toxins, I suppose, though this really isn't that late, it's only 1:03. Though it won't be by the time I finish this, post it, and you read it. It's a postcard from the past, to help kick in your memories. Though, I've noticed about memories, at least for me, mine are often, though not by any means always, words, or described in words. Hazard of the text-only Internet of my youth, perhaps, and my wanting to be a writer. But there's a problem, because sometimes I can't remember if I really remember something, or if I'm just remembering the story of it I told myself. Or, sometimes, a story of it I made up, though that's usally more of a half-awake in the morning right on the cusp of sleep where you're awake but still dreaming kind of thing, when reality's fuzzy about the edges anyway.

This is your brain. Well, my brain, but yours is about 99% similar to it, except for being completely different. This is your (my) brain on Big Questions and well-written but funky comics and perhaps a teensy bit of sleep deprivation, which I'll cite as my excuse if anybody asks me.

[ed- At this point, the manuscript descended into gibbering and random letters, plus a strange variety of doodles, which probably are best not mentioned. The writer got a drink and went to bed, or near enough as to make no difference, and figured "What the hell, let people think I'm crazy and look at me funny, they do anyway." And we are supposed to be the Editors, let us at least keep up the pretense, move along, nothing to see here, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.]