From what I can gather, I radiate intelligence like it’s my personal magnetic field.

At least, that’s the only explanation I can come up with as to how people can tell me, “you’re obviously really intelligent…” when they have barely even spoken to me yet.

And I have always felt like I had a personal energy field that sometimes crackled with all my latent energies that I did not know how to express.

It’s not like I was going to take a quick jog around the block any time soon. Even though that honestly probably would have done me a lot of good.

Kinda too late for that now. I am still looking for some form of medically monitored exercise, like physio or the like, so I can work out without worrying that I am going to make my still undiagnosed condition worse.

I miss the workouts I could do way back in 1991 at UPEI.

But yeah, all my mental stimulation creates this static electric charge, like my brain is a giant Van de Graaf generator and it discharges in the form of inspiration.

So in a sense, that’s where all my brilliant ideas come from. Also my deep intuition, which can be eerily accurate sometimes.

What’ll really crisp your tapas is that afterwards, I can examine the event and see the incredibly long series of connections and associations that happened in the blink of an eye in order to make that intuitive flash happen.

It’s like I was subconsciously building this circuit made of logic and something beyond logic (meta-logic?) in my mind and the intuitive flash happened when the last piece was added to the circuit causing it to blaze into life and output into the conscious mind.

And the thing is, there is always far more energy than I know how to discharge. So I always have this crackling cumulonimbus cloud of creativity churning and sizzling away in my head to call upon when needed.

Problem is that when I am not tapping into my creative maelstrom, having a constant major weather event happening in your head kind of means you’re crazy.

There’s been times in my life when I have been tempted to say, “sorry, I couldn’t hear you over all the noise in my head. ” to someone, but I um, knew better.

No way they’d take it in the lighthearted, no I am not schizophrenic way I intended.

And that’s the thing. It’s not a sensory thing. I don’t literally hear voices or noises or whatever in my head, thank God.

It’s more their mental equivalent. A metaphor, I suppose.

And yet, despite that, I feel like I have been struggling to hear and understand people over the noise in my head for my entire life.

Sometimes there’s just a hell of a lot going on in the mega-computer that is this capacious cerebellum of mine, and the brain bandwidth left over for actually processing sensory input from the world gets mighty thin.

Which is pretty dang weird, now that I am typing it out loud. I don’t suppose it’s something most people experience except maybe when they are cramming for exams or have a major life decision to make or something.

But my mind always has a hell of a lot going on under the hood. That’s my magic gift, perhaps, is that I can generate a task in my mind, assign some subconscious resources to it, and then forget about it, thus freeing my conscious mind to do other things.

Like fantasize about Zootopia characters. (Me, Judy^[1], Nick, a bottle of carrot flavoured lube, two strategically placed throw pillows…)

But because these processes are subconscious, my conscious mind easily loses track of them and most of the time I actually have no idea what is actually going on in my head until when and if it outputs.

What I wouldn’t give to have the Task Manage from Windows for my brain.

Or honestly, just a reset button.

More after the break.

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Let’s play Pop-o-matic Trouble!

Because that’s what kids want from a board game….. REVENGE!

So I am in the second week of having all my meds bubble-packed. Yes, all my many, many medications are now sealed up in plastic bubbles the size and shape as the packet I get my hot mustard dipping sauce in when I get MacNuggets. #relatable

And honestly, it’s mostly a pain in the ass.

I mean, I guess it’s nice not to have to handle all those pill bottles every day, but I was and am extremely used to that by now. I’ve been on a lot of meds for like 20 years now, and so my day has included a lot of pill taking for a very long time.

You get used to it.

And popping the pills out of their pack is a pain. You have to do it very carefully or the pills will scatter all over the place and I have had to learn to sort of make a bowl of the hand they are being popped into in order to make sure the pills don’t slip through my damaged by diabetes numb fingertips and go astray that way.

So right now, I miss my pill bottles. I asked for the blister packing because my case supervisor, Galina, suggested it, and I still have two and a half weeks of blister packed fun to go though, and I know I am a grumpy old cuss who doesn’t like change and so I hate everything new at first, so I am going to see how I feel when I am done.

Who knows, when I finish my packed pills, I might love them.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.