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I realized I’ve been neglecting my Tumblr. I joined May 14th and have about…six posts. Even though in that space of two and a half months I’ve had so many things that I could have written about. But I always was terrible at keeping any sort of journal, even an electronic one.
I was thinking earlier that I should start keeping track of things like my mood swings and weird thoughts and the general craziness that goes on in my head. And then I remembered - oh yeah, I have a place where I was GOING to write about random shit that pops into my head. Not all of it, because I’m pretty sure most people get tired of reading angst at about age 14. Angsty fanfiction is like a rite of passage for the creative, but there’s just so much of it. At some point after you’ve explored more of the world and experienced literature outside the angst genre, you look back at your own work and go, “Was this…thing, that I thought was so poetic and verbose and hauntingly deep, actually spawned from my own fingers?”
Actually, I still feel like that sometimes. But that’s not what my point was.
Actually, neither was angsty fanfiction. My point was that there are some seriously weird things that go on in my head, and maybe I should start recording them because at some point I will inevitably start thinking about the weird things, but I won’t be able to remember what the weird things were. I just remember vague wtf-ness.
I think I’m actually a pretty paranoid person. Not the sort of paranoid who triple-checks locks and refuses to leave the car window down a bit because someone could slide a coat hanger in it and unlock my doors and won’t step out of the door without mace, a lighter, a pocket knife, and basic self defense lessons (though basic self defense lessons are a good idea. I know you’re supposed to shoot zombies, but shit man, you never know). It’s a different kind of paranoid.
Like tonight. I was carrying my laptop from the living room to the bedroom to place it back in its usual place on my desk. Keep in mind that when I carry my laptop, I carry other things on top of it because pockets require effort. So on top of my laptop is my power cord, my wireless mouse and mousepad, my phone, and my keychain #3 that contains my GameStop PowerUp Rewards card and my flash drive. Of high importance to this story is the importance I place on my flash drive. In addition to my entire picture collection, lots of character information, and all of my web design work and graphics, it contains years of writing. I’ve lost a few files and stories over the years, but most of them are there, even the crap written by 14-year-old me. Notes for my current novel. Notes for future novels. Short stories. Random scenes. The current draft for my current novel.
If I reach for this little black Kingston 16GB rectangle and it is not there, I will go into full-fledged panic if I can’t find it. Now, if I do something like say…dropping it on the floor on the way to my room…that’s really not a big deal. I know exactly where it is and I can retrieve it. Right? My mind, however, does not like logic. I’m pretty sure my mind is dedicated to giving logic the finger every time it tries to get in the same vicinity. So while Logic is standing on one side, whispering in my ear calmly that I can set my laptop on the desk before walking back to the hallway and picking up the flash drive, my mind goes through an entire crazy scenario in the whole of five seconds it took to finish the walk to my desk and go back for it.
It was possible, my mind screeched, that my brother could walk or run through that same hallway. My brother, an almost twelve year old hyperactive Aspie, is not a careful person. Therefore it was entirely in the range of possibilities that he could step on the flash drive while running. I could come back to find hundreds of shattered little pieces of plastic and computery bits and all that data lost forever, completely irretrievable. In the space of five seconds, even while I remained calm outwardly, my mind cycled through panic, despair, fury, and more despair. I think I temporarily stopped breathing during one of the “Oh my god it’s all GONE” parts. This paranoia did not stop until I had the flash drive safely in hand. (It took Logic more time than it should have to point out that even if he had stepped on it, it was more likely that the most damage it would sustain would be cosmetic and I would probably not, in fact, come back to hundreds of shattered little plastic pieces).
That’s an example of how my mind works. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is not normal, considering the frequency at which this happens. It could just be that, as an imaginative person, my mind likes to come up with completely random scenarios and is unable to differentiate between what occasions this is a suitable thing to do. If any other creative types out there have input on this, that would be absolutely lovely.
Maybe I should by a lanyard for the thing. Then I wouldn’t drop it, and therefore wouldn’t panic over completely unlikely possibilities.
Definitely buying a lanyard.
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