brain

Empty Gaze

There are those odd times where your gaze gets fixed on something for no reason at all, and you can stare and stare and stare some more and you won’t find any reason to move your eyes away from that object. The object isn’t interesting or special – indeed, it may be just some bump of paint on the wall or a corner of the table or a patch of fur on the floor. There’s really no reason for your eyes to become fixed and obsessed with that certain spot. And yet, you stare at it and feel as if you could keep staring at it for an hour.

This usually seems to happen when you’re tired, or worried, or perhaps just distracted. The thoughts that go through your mind at times like this often don’t make sense – you might be humming a tune in your mind, or maybe you’re mulling over an issue in a circular manner, repeating your thoughts over and over again. Maybe you’re almost not thinking anything at all beyond “Why am I staring at this?” and your mind is oddly blank other than that.

Whatever the reason, this is something that most people get at some point or another. I wonder if our brains sometimes just need a moment to rest, to detach from conciousness, to wander.

Stupidity – A Common Affliction

There are stupid people on this earth. There are, in fact, many many many stupid people on this planet. We all have to deal with them every day. We have to talk to them, have to forgive their stupidity and have to make allowances for it. This might sound condescending. Maybe it is. I don’t claim to be a great brain or gifted or super-smart. All I claim to have are ears through which I actually try to understand what is being said around me or to me.

Some people do not use their ears very well. They can hear alright, but they use their hearing selectively and half the time decide to ignore what is being said and not let it travel to their brains properly. In my line of work, customer service, I get to talk to people like this on a daily basis. Like a certain mistress who almost made me  cry out of frustration today.

She kept asking the same question about her card, and the second I tried to explain, she dismissed everything I said and told me that the company are thieves and then proceeded to once again tell me all she wanted was an answer to her question. My stomach is still hurting from my pointless half hour conversation with her.

To Be Held

Sometimes you need to be held. Really need to, a deep need that runs through your body all through to the very core of your emotions, somewhere deep inside that odd squiggly chemical thing that is our brain. Sometimes things, no matter how small and insignificant, feel like too much. Sometimes just knowing you’re going to have to wake up the next morning is too much.

Those are the times when you need to be held most of all. When you’re lonely, you want someone there, sure. When you’re angry or depressed, you need someone to anchor you as well. But sometimes there are just these moments of pure and utter hopelessness. You know it’ll pass. It’s just a mood. Just another chemical being processed through your brain. It doesn’t mean anything. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and work and do everything you need to do, just like any other day.

But it’s just that, well, sometimes someone holding you makes everything better, at least for one, priceless, endless moment. And that moment can keep you going.

Apparently I’m Almost Genderless.

I did the sex-ID quiz that Chris left in a comment a few posts back [ http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/sex/index_cookie.shtml ] and apparently my mind is almost exactly between the male and female minds. I lean more towards the women’s mind, but not by much.

This would make sense – I like girly things like shopping, but I can be rather agressive or violent; I’m super empathic, and yet I blow people’s brains out on GTA. I used to be a tomboy, and now I’m rather girly. I know, I’m playing at stereotypes here, but it makes sense.

Still, I find it amusing that although I am very clearly and physically female, my brain is genderless. My brain is totally fucking the system. Cool.

Just to write a short disclaimer, because I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about that comic: I’m all for transvestites, transgenders and sexual freedom. I absolutely adore Frank N’ Furter. I just don’t want to have a beard…

“Sign here. And here. And here too.”

First days at work are tedious. I spent my day signing paperwork I didn’t have time to read and listening to people trying to be funny while actually telling me just how devious credit-card companies can be. More time was spent on breaks or hanging around in corridors than actually learning anything important.

Coworkers. Ugh. While all are older and should be more mature or intelligent on that basis alone, it felt like I was in a group of pop-culture victims. I won’t deny that I am a victim of certain strains of pop-culture as well. But at least I don’t believe that the local version of “Survivor” is THE SHITZ. Nor do I feel immensely proud of how trashed I get every Friday.

Imagine please now a large group of frowny-faces, brown in color, banging on a large, swollen and tender object with a hammer. Now, imagine that object is your brain, and you will get a good idea of how my head feels right now.