I'm outlining this blog as we drive back from holiday vacation. I spend a lot of time wondering how other people's thoughts work. Sometimes, I find myself wishing that someone could transport into my mind for a day. On the other hand, this is probably one of the most frightening ideas I've considered. I'm a writer; yet so often, I find it difficult to voice my thoughts. I struggle to find the words to represent everything that is happening in my mind from day to day. I'm sitting in the car. I'm mentally scribing this blog. When I think, I think in words. I also think in pictures. I also think in numbers. I do some of my best thinking in the car. I think the dynamic surroundings are a pleasant, and necessary, distraction.
As a child, I fell into the habit of counting -- counting the thumps of the tires as they roll over the cracks in the road, counting the mile markers as they pass by, counting the streetlights, counting out the beats to the music on the radio, counting the cars that pass by in the other direction. This information is meaningless. I throw it into the trash bin. I don't need to remember it.
I fell into a habit of reading, too -- reading the street signs, reading the license plates, reading the bumper stickers, and the billboards. The words on the electronic signs echo in my head for several minutes after we pass. Slow - Road Work Ahead. I'm not sure why I keep repeating this to myself. It's just one of the many thoughts that occupy my mind. Just like the counting, this information isn't of any value. I throw it into the trash bin.
Observant. I guess you could call me observant. I've counted and read almost everything we passed. I notice that the headlights aren't all exactly the same color. I notice the slight variance from model to model of the same car. I notice the cracks in the road, the street light flickering in the distance, the blinking lights atop the cell tower, the plane in the sky, the rigid skyline of New York City, the hills in the road, the boat in the distance, the gentle rumble of the engine, the turning of the wheels. I notice it all. I can't help but notice it.
I think in words, pictures, and numbers. I can see the words appearing on my screen as I type out this blog. I haven't yet reached my computer, but I can see it written on my screen. I mentally edit my writing. I delete, edit, insert, copy, and paste.
Still, this isn't quite enough. So, I ponder the next five years, the next ten years, what about the next fifty years? I consider the reports I must write tomorrow. I mentally rehearse my lesson plans for this week.
Sound overwhelming? It's not --at least, not to me anymore. Some might argue that I must suffer from ADD or ADHD. I don't -- at least, I don't think I do. I'm an incredibly productive person. I can stay on task for hours -- even days. My mind wanders while I work. Yet, my wandering mind doesn't seem to impede on my productivity. I consider this professional level multi tasking. I operate at a speed that overwhelms people. It's taken me years to learn patience around my peers. It's still something I struggle with.
I learned patience because I had to. I learned to manage my thoughts because I had to. I've now re-programmed myself. I've designed a mental trash bin. I like to call it my mental black hole. I throw all of the meaningless information into it. At the same time, these thoughts are what kept me occupied in school. They're what kept me from climbing the walls from boredom or crying out in frustration.