Saturday, 24 January 2009

chock-full of crazy

Do you ever feel like your mind is just running away with you? Or that you heart is spinning off into a blissfully ludicrous place that your rational mind can't quite grasp?

I tried to explain this once -when I was fifteen- to myself mostly, because I needed to express it somehow. It came out as a mess of spiralled colour, with lines bursting out of it. Kind of like fireworks. On acid. Not that I actually know what an acid trip's like; I'm either too boring or too entertained by my own brain that I've never felt the need to try it. Honestly though, the way I see the world? Most of the time, it doesn't leave much need for artificial enhancement.

I tried to explain this again a few months ago, after my doctors put me on ADD medication -they think I probably should have been on it since I could speak- personally I'm kind of glad I wasn't as a kid, but I'm glad to be on it now. A lot of people, especially other creative people, have given me grief for going on meds, mostly because they somehow, paradoxically, think that it stifles creativity to be able to think straight. Um... yeah... right. Actually, what it's done (for me, at least) is enabled me to focus enough to finish my first novel (which isn't to say it's any good, but it's DONE, which for me is a really, REALLY big deal).

Irregardless of what I've accomplished since going on these meds, I came back from my first trip back to my hometown in two and half years questioning my decision to take medication that really DOES alter my brain. I had to wonder if I was making the right choice.

A day after I got home (Vancouver is Home, Ottawa is my just my hometown) I left again, this time to Jasper, Alberta to see people who have known me most of my life (which, given what I've lived through means more to me than most 25 year-olds). We went camping. We went hiking. We saw bears. I saw the sunrise over the Rockies. Twice. It was HEAVEN. I didn't want to come home.

I thought about a ton of stuff that weekend. We talked about a ton of stuff that weekend. Not what-have-you-been-up-to and oh-what's-your'master-thesis-again? stuff. No, we talked about real stuff like values and why we want to live in the country and why our kids won't be allowed to watch a lot of TV and why is it that guys get so offended when you can't physically fall asleep because they're heat-generating freaks and it makes you a bit queasy to be so warm all the time?

Half way up the first half of the Opal Hills circut, between discussing his honours project and why I still want four kids, despite logically knowing it'll wreak havoc on my body and enter me into motherly servitude for two and a half decades, at somepoint in there I tried to explain my drugs to E. I'm pretty sure I wasn't able to figure out a decent analogy until later, because I remember his car behind him, either in a parking lot someplace eating as we ate jujubes or back at the campground as we made dinner.

The way I explained it to him was that the drugs made sense of that previously LSD-esque explosion of universe-understandingness and helped me figure out how to look at each part of it, to categorize it, to qualify it, if not quantify it, and to sort out what's actually in there. It was like looking at that massive explosiony-web of colour and light and energy and finally realizing that I'd only ever seen it in two dimensions, and that now that I could see it in three dimensions, I could finally sort out the layers, see them as individual components of a much more complicated whole. I could finally look at one 'colour' as it were and to figure out what it was, and why, and how it fit into the whole shebang.

sometimes simple can be so beautiful...

I still feel that inexplicable happiness, but knowing that I can understand it if I want to makes it that much more wonderful. Maybe it's just an ingrained characteristic that I will only ever be more amused by something once I understand how it works, or why it works, or what laws of physics make it work.

And I kind of wonder if that's why I try so hard to understand people, who, when you get down to it, only ever get more amusing the more I understand them. And more beautiful, kind of like fireworks and exploding stars...

if only we all looked like stars when we died...

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