Inconsequential Essentials

I write the following paragraphs as a disclaimer of sorts, a loophole space for my mind, to avoid obsession with some sort of structure or flow that would invariably effect the continuance of writing.

What follows, along with the little that has gone before, will invariably change.

I do not intend to keep to a theme other than honesty, a goal other than sharing my thoughts.

At times this may seem self indulgent, and it very well may be so, but I shall endeavour to be, at all times, completely and utterly me.

My words are not coherent, for in setting them down I rob them of the perpetual coherency held in the ephemeral spaces of my mind.

They shall never be as fluidly and inextricably linked as they are within as, in writing them out for others to see, they lose their inviolable structure of chaotic perfection in exchange for a sense of permanence.

Rigidity and fixed form are chains as much as the most stringent measures of reductionist education yet they allow us to communicate, individual to individual, a shadow and imprint of the myopically mutable maelstrom of the mind.

Even from this previous statement interpretation may arise to glean truisms that I had not comprehended or otherwise discover those that do not exist.

I apply my mind to the page and from the page it is applied to the mind of the reader, the value lost in translation immeasurable but also unique and scintillating.

Even that passage of thought holds a reflection of individuality, showing the mind working in an individual existence.

A shared application of mind is a coupling of individual beings and one of the most fascinating factors in the human condition.

We are forever linked but eternally unique.

Hopefully this serves the purpose of primer to my posts elsewhere upon the page and you, the reader, have not been turned against the idea of pursuance.


How does the mind…

It’s a worrying time.

My escape from overwhelming emotion is often found in creative outlets, most commonly drawing.

I put pen to paper and music on next to me. I go with the whims of my hand and brain, my mind leading the process in a cathartic river of sub conscious control and flow.

It helps.

I forget the world for a while. I can breathe and exist in a place of simple instinct and letting of built up emotion.

As I come back I am drained but left sated, my mind able to tumble on until the need rises once more.

I’m always interested to hear about other people’s ways of coping with tumultuous times, especially if they are similarly indulgent of creativity, whatever the form or type of approach!

We are all creative creatures, individual in our wonder.


Resetting the 5 in indulgence of the 6th

Sometimes I will go to my bed and get in.

I make the room as dark to senses as possible, lights out or low enough to make ambient light fade away, sound blocked by a hood that also serves to soothe the feel of my ears and hair in the air.

I lie on my back, close my eyes, and light the fire in my mind.

The pathways of my being open up around me and I slide along them, jumping slightly to angles that flow past each other.

In this way I may sort a tangle or simply disappear for a while, realising I was gone when I return to the world of physical senses.

The lines of life are not constricting or colliding on the paths I flow through, they are not opposed or clashing, juxtaposed or even parallel, they are just there and not, one and the same within a streaming fire of glowing life.

If the world pokes through I snap back and, bereft of the freedom I flowed through, suffer disorientation with emotional backlash against the illogical constrictions of this world.

All is one and we are defined in ourselves.


Ps. I am learning to do this to a lesser extent without sensory shutdown, but I have to engage physical manipulation and action to prompt various aspects and it becomes very quickly exhausting.

It does mean I am able to do it out and about. Hopefully the optismisation of this method will continue as I exercise it.

That I may speak and not be known…

Here are ‘just’ and ‘only’. Two examples of language simplification leading to a possible degradation in understanding.

‘Is it just your illness?’

This can be someone asking whether there is something else happening alongside the illness. It’s also possible that it means ‘Is there anything more important than the problem that I already know is there?’. It’s largely semantics but there is a fundamental difference. The example itself has ambiguity to it but the adaptation written to show one of the interpretations is less ambiguous and has more certainty.

Of course in all communication certainty is a slippery subject that can quickly show its glowing, blinding face to be but a reflected light.

The problem as I see it is in the simplification of language. We now rely on purely text based communications for much of our contact with the world and yet the confusion factor is growing through laxity and ignorance.

In the example question I picked out two meanings. I could find more but I’m on a thought train so that derailment needs to be avoided. If the question was written as ‘Is there something else troubling you, aside from your illness?’ then there is much less wriggle room for the worm of misunderstanding. This question has more, in fact double the number of, words. It also includes a comma. The lovely comma. The comma that seems to be drowning in the sea of internet communication. I am not sure whether the active part in making the question less ambiguous was the choice of words used, the number of them or the comma itself but somewhere it happened.

I am drawn to the conclusion that it is the reduction of all three areas, punctuation, vocabulary, and the willingness to write more than the bare minimum*, that results in a deficit of understanding.

Of course there are many other reasons why text based communication can be complex to understand, the removal of personal interaction in a small and shared spatial environment, for example.

These are things for another time.

As the blusterous winds that propelled the sails of my thought train drop away, I need to close my eyes and live in visual darkness whilst my sixth recuperates from the journey.

I’m going to put this here as I have noted that a friend does similar and I really would enjoy discussing things with people (if they are prepared to be aware that each train may fly past turnings and pause but not always continue down them).

So yes, please do comment with your thoughts, let us become the letter correspondence centre of this age, in which our letters fly at speeds beyond that of any bird that we can fully comprehend.

Tatty bye,


*The ‘bare minimum’ part is exemplified by ‘text speak’ but that’s definitely a musing for another day so cya m8.

Meanderous Musings

I have collided with the world in an explosion of stimuli.

Over the previous year I have discovered life in such a way that was unknown to me for much of the time before.

This is fascinating and torturous, often simultaneously. The sensory sensitivities that I am now privy to encapsulate and exemplify this ongoing discovery.

From the whisper of light I find new wonders but am also afflicted with ruinous migraines that lay my functionality to waste.

On the breeze I scent the rising storm and feel the brush of distant plants but am battered with the invasive olfactory disruptions of human obsession.

In my mouth I feel myriad concoctions of food and know what components are lacking but am laid low by overwhelming complexity.

In the kiss of sun and daily flow upon the air I hold sight with closed eyes, but I cannot abide even the contemplation of many textures that others might think of as mundane.

My ears clutch at the air and I absorb the input of the world, but I am pained by the everyday utterances of bells, machined whirrings and all manner of cacophonous interpretations of life.

My mind seems to spread within itself, undefinable but eternal, linking otherwise disparate subsections of existence in a web so tight that I cannot see how anything could be viewed as truly separate from the whole. In that fact I am enabled to think clearly along an otherwise chaotic path but also flounder and fall as I try to trace the pathways beyond, especially where they come into contact with the paths of other minds.

I am found in myself but at the same time inescapably lost to the tunnels and bridges, flights and cornered corridors of my mind. I am now trying to discern just how many parts curse that actually is in the complex concoction of Me.


Hello! Who am I?

After thinking for around a minute about the title of this post, it is finally being written. Huzzah!

To give some context to that sentence: thinking about things for a minute is not something I do. It’s terrifying to think that I thought about that for such a short amount of time so I’m going to have to keep forging on with this so that I don’t have a chance to go back and put the more normally occurring hours worth of thought into a sentence (technically two but who’s keeping track?).

I digress.

I’m 25 tomorrow. It’s basically the thing that has galvanised me into actually starting to write this. ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if I started a blog the day before my birthday?’ was my thought process. I was hoping that the looming topic of marked older-ness would help structure my thoughts and obviously that worked out.

I looked up a page on how to write a blog before I started, all very interesting but I imagine I’ll end up ignoring most of its advice. This isn’t out of misguided confidence (or even earned confidence), it’s because once I have a rule in my head it is nigh on impossible to change it without some serious mental anguish on my part and once a rule is set, it is followed rather dogmatically.

These kind of things are what this blog thing is most likely to be about. My personal experiences of how the ‘Me’ shaped gear doesn’t quite fit into the machine of human society.

After quickly attempting to brush away reflections about how no one else could discuss my personal experiences in the same way I can (and consequently failing), I’ll actually look to talk about something with a modicum of structure.

There are lots of posts and videos going around talking about things like this https://youtu.be/Bor9xVnbIz8 . I believe they have a good point. Sadly the video isn’t as absurd to me as I think it is intended to be.

I have a long history of mental health problems. First diagnosis at 13 (I think? It may be 14, memories of that time isn’t my strongest subject). That’s quite a while. I imagine I’ll get into more of the saga as these blog posts appear.

Anyhoo, these videos topics aren’t absurd to me because I consistently get ‘hmm, well you are quite anxious’ or ‘your stress levels are likely to be high at the moment’ when I have any aches, pains, fevers, coughs, inability to walk, sharp shooting pains in my arms and legs or just a minor complete numbness in my extremities.

Now I understand that many things can happen to the body when the mind isn’t doing great (they are parts of a connected whole after all) but when every single thing that is wrong is attributed to mental health problems by ‘physical doctors’ it doesn’t help the situation at all.

I said ‘physical doctors’ to lead into this next bit (Wait, structured thought process?! Neuter him!).

The ‘physical doctors’, for example: GPs, point me towards the mental health service when I go to them. I go to the mental health service aaaand: ‘if you have physical concerns you should speak to your GP’.

Bloody brilliant.

This wasn’t an isolated incident either. These things have repeatedly happened for the last 10 years.

It all began with a ‘neck injury’, so that was; strapped to a bed for 24 hours, paralysis in my left side, lots of MRIs and other scans, random tests in which I had no idea what was happening or why they were being done, people throwing around terms like ‘stroke’ and ‘broken neck’ and ‘spinal injury’. Oh and lots of strong pain killers let’s not forget the pain killers that did nothing for the pain but dulled my mind to a level where I had no idea what was going on but was still awake and absorbing stuff.

Once ‘neck injury’ was decided to be wrong, ‘Somatization Disorder’ appeared. I had my first mental health diagnosis. I won’t go into details but if anyone is interested, this is the best information I’ve seen: https://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/healthadvice/problemsanddisorders/medicallyunexplainedsymptoms.aspx

Huh. The page grew sideways. Strange.

I reckon it was the day I got that diagnosis that set me up to live this cycle of being like the titular device in the game Pass the Bomb.

Once I was assigned another big diagnosis in 2012, I reckon I was pretty much rolled into a ball and painted black with my mind set alight. I might as well have ACME written on my back.

In case it wasn’t blindingly obvious, that was my attempt at some sort of hook or cliff hanger. I should definitely look into writing Soaps. Not writing in soap, the soap gets under my fingernails.

As the esteemed reader can probably guess, my brain has fallen off the couple of tracks it was running on to start this post and is once again back on at least five. I have no idea if this is even a tinsy bit coherent but I’m not going to go back over it and check because it will never get posted if I do.

If you’ve made it this far then you’ve done better than me.


This post was mainly brought to you by Prospekt’s March and my thanks go to Glass of Water in particular.