My Brain vs. The Brain

I find it ironic right now that I am battling the thoughts in my head as to what I should be doing now. I constantly am thinking of one thing while I know I should be focusing on another. I have decided right now, right this very second that I am no longer going to worry about why I am not doing something else and am doing something completely different. As long as I am being productive one way or another it is all beneficial. Just in different departments. Sometimes it's good to just turn off the control switch and let the brain go on cruise control (creatively speaking)

The ironic part is I am having this conflict with my inner brain , all the while I am trying to finish a play that is having a dilemma because the disembodied omniscient brain doesn't believe in Pluto as a planet.

A brain that doesn't believe in Pluto as a planet is no brain of mine. That being said, it is a fictional brain. I have been trying to stay focused on the ideas of success that I had created as my new year's resolution, but as I am quickly finding out my own brain has other plans. I cannot work fast enough, write fast enough, paint fast enough, sleep fast enough, wake fast enough. Everything seems to be slowing down except for time which constantly seems the fastest of all.

No time for Chinese or exercise. These are my thoughts as soon as I wake. As I work on one thing a million ideas flow into another thing. One thing after another thing makes things begin to get confusing. No time for perfect words to describe perfect actions. Just type, fast. Words hurl out of my finger tips clicking and clacking off the keyboards' keys.

Ridiculous rhythm keeps my tempo'd flow at a frantic rate. No time for spell check get back to that later. An art meeting tomorrow that will unfold any which way, but the way I expect it. The only consistent set is that the inconsistency of reason and non logic walk hand and hand as anything but superb normalcy awakens.

I apologize for the free verse words of nothing, but my mind is onto something that my brain can't distinguish.

A perfect storm riddled with creativity. In order to write a monologue so illogical as a disenfranchised Pluto personified by shame, jealousy, anger, and a need to belong. Soon a thrust of pride rattles it's essence and brings about the quasar of a super nova exploding into red hot plasma streaks of an inferno. With such confidants it can only become the solar sun and nothing more. This is its' true identity. Its' original sin. The birth of a solar system with all others in its' own orbit. From matter comes anti-matter. Complex concepts consume intellectual Q & A's, but between those highly charged electrons and protons bounce a nuclei within that only expands... Brain hurts... Must stop... Tomorrow I will write the third act... Tomorrow I will write Pluto in all its' insecurities and greatness. Tomorrow will be another day of new ideas and unmet goals, but it's okay. Even Pluto has bad days...