Homework for the Overactive Brain

Today's Quote--"Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me..."

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

 

Today's quote--"Since the house is on fire let us warm ourselves."--Italian Saying
Well the house is burning now...first day of finals and the screams of dying students ring in the air. No, it's not quite that bad, but it could very easily be...

I wonder why it is that I feel so relaxed. Is it my personal philosphy coming through, some sort of "I'm not afraid of tests" genius or something? Or is it simply because of my classes, my tests won't be that bad, I've got most everything done, all I have to do now is take the tests. Hmmm. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Maybe I'm really just a nut case living in a padded room somewhere, and all of this is part of my delusion. Perhaps I am only a figment of my imagination, of someone's imagination. At times things seem so surreal, maybe that's only because they are. How did I get here? How have I ended up in this space with these people? It's like a dream come true, or someone's worst nightmare, depending on the day. Is this world real? Is the one at home more real? Is there a difference? It seems like it's all a dream, a fantasy that I come home from, one way or the other. Am I really going to Japan for four months? Am I really going to Scotland? Am I really going home? Are any of these places real? What is real and what is imagined...and is any of it either? All those shows I saw as a child, talking about Finals in College, like they were these huge things. They are, but how come the reality (is it real?) and the TV agree? All this begs a definition of real. I don't have one.

My universe is filled with these people who I've constructed, is it possible that my constructions are only the constructions of someone else, someone else far away, far above, far below, that I, too, am only a construction of someone's mind. Is what is on the inside so false as what is on the outside? I make as I see, I judge as I understand, I have constructed this, my view of the world, but is it relavent to anyone but myself? Does it have to be? Reality and fantasy are so false. What is truth and where does it live? When life takes on this surrealistic feeling, what is going on? Is it in my mind, or in someone else's?

Depersonalization, delusions of control...I'm heading for a round rubber room if I don't turn them off, those thinking parts of my brain. Who knew that just living, aside from being a terminal disease, could make you crazy.

GL 4:50 PM