I haven’t blogged here for a while, (except for The Subconscious Mind thing) if anyone’s noticed or cared. This is mainly because I’ve been resting my brain, fragile thing that it is. I know very well the signs of impending implosion, so I always stop before its too late. Too late doesn’t mean exactly becoming catatonic, but I just have to relax and not think too much.
I have to rest because I don’t’ want to reach the point of no return. I’ve almost reached the dreaded point of no return several times, and take it from me it’s not fun. It’s scary hovering at the abyss of loosing control of one’s mental functions. That’s all I’ll say about it.
I have this other interesting brain problem, besides the above cognitive overload. Oftentimes I don’t understand what people say until a moment after they’ve said it. It’s a brain delay of some sort. Sometimes when this happens I just say, “What?”, and they repeat what they’ve said, then I understand their words.
It’s like the first time doesn’t count. It’s annoying, especially in interviews, or when I was in hospital recently for eye surgery, Doctors and nurses telling me stuff or asking me questions. I occasionally found myself answering the first question after the second question was asked.
Of course, this confused the doctors or nurses. Then they had to ask the second question again. Usually by this time my brain catches up and I’m able to answer the second question and the rest of them in sequence.
I’m thinking maybe this unusual brain discrepancy of mine happens because I’m really a time-traveler. My time machine occasionally experiences a glitch or something, some temporal malfunction. I think this is a possibility.
I’m going to ask my Space Alien friends about this next time I see them. They should know, I think, if this could be true, me being a time-traveler, I mean.
It’s nice to have Space Alien friends to ask questions like this. When I ask Humans these kinds of questions, all I get are strange looks. Strange looks are no substitute for a knowledgeable answer from a technically superior member of some Alien species.
Now, Space Aliens can be pretty smart about technology, as I say, but personally they can be really stupid and lazy and annoying, or just not worth talking to. The same as Earthlings. Pretty much wherever you go in the Galaxy life-forms are the same. Mostly scary looking, I admit, but dull as dirt.
You see, most of these Inter-Galactic Alien creatures I’ve come in contact with are just highly evolved accountants or insurance salesmen, used-space ship dealers or politicians, Laundromat attendants and the like. Just like here on Earth. The dregs of society. (The word “dreg” means the least valuable part of anything.)
Actually, these lowly Alien life-forms can be very nice creatures. The problem with them is, they don’t see the Big Picture. They think their mundane and proper lives are all there is, though they do have some remote and distant feeling that there is more to it than just being Laundromat attendants, but they can’t quite seem to work it all out.
You see, very few members of Galactic society think about this Big Picture thing very often. This is probably a good thing for them. I mean, who needs Alien Laundromat attendants sitting around the Laundromat gazing into space with absent, far-away looks in their eyes? (If they actually have eyes.) Well, nobody. They need to get on with the job at hand (If they actually have hands.) so we can clean our clothes and just go home and do something more interesting.
I usually write in my stories about creatures who do wonder about the Big Picture. Their problem is, they can never quite get their minds around the thing, the Big Picture, I mean. They try, though, which is the important part. Event the most advanced Alien species who have the highest levels of intelligence in the whole Galaxy never quite grasp the Big Picture in its entirety, or even little bits of it, though some think they do.
I think the Big Picture is either so big no one can ever grasp it no matter how hard they try, or there the Big Picture doesn’t exist at all. I personally think there is a Big Picture out there somewhere, but for some reason it remains forever out of reach. This is rather cruel of it, but maybe it’s for the best.
I mean, if we did discover what the Big Picture is all about we may no longer care about clean clothes, and where would that leave all the Laundromat attendants?
I can visualize this Big Picture thing sitting somewhere, remote and arrogant, with a superior look on its face, looking down at the rest of us with disdain and contempt at our foolhardy attempts to understand it with our inferior contemplative equipment. Or maybe the Big Picture is sympathetic, pacing about fretting, feeling sorry for us and sad that our intellects can never comprehend its sublime…whatever it is.
I don’t know which of the above situations is true, but it is nice to think there is Something beside attending to slopping washing machines, admonishing customers for using too much soap or jamming in too many dirty clothes, complaining the change machine is out of quarters, having to pick up forgotten undies and dropping them delicately into trash cans, and at the end of the night mopping up at closing time.
And then these Alien-to-us citizens of the Galaxy return home, exhausted by the tedium of their meaningless labor at the Intergalactic Laundromat, to settle down to their Galacto-Vision sets to watch the latest unrealistic reality shows, which are usually re-runs anyway.
Slavogard, the Laundromat attendant, and its wife Gigliopax then retire to their bed to dream of an exciting moment wherein the Big Picture finally does reveal itself, usually in a surreal dream-like manner so that they cannot quite make it out, its Cosmic meaning distorted and indistinct, and so not actually revealed at all.
But Slavogard and Gigliopax are heroes in a way, like all of us, because we have this notion that there does exist this Big Picture somewhere, just out of reach. It’s a comforting feeling every Alien individual of this Galaxy has embedded deep within it, like a soul or a spirit. A wonderment of a mystery they cannot shake, that follows them like a distant yet intimate, loyal, caring and devoted companion all the days of their lives.
Could be worse.
In conclusion, when I feel my brain has rested enough, I’ll try to finish my on-going stories. (Foolishly, I have two on-going stories going at once, stupid stories as they might be. This multi-tasking could be a good test as to the health of my brain. If it can devise some complex, absurd conclusion to these stories I’ve gotten myself into, my brain should be able to confront any other problem it’s likely to have to deal with in real life.
Or, run away from the problem, which is its usual response.