Brain Gunk

I've spoken about mental gunk before and I think it's time that I brought this up again.

There are times that every writer or blogger becomes afflicted with, not writer's block, but with what I call "gunk on the brain". It always happens to me when I have too much on my mind and I need to release some of it. Strike that, it's has nothing to do with release. Release is when there is one thing that stays on your mind and needs to be said or written about.

This is not that.

The closest thing I can think of would be to clean the infection from a wound. I think you might know what I'm talking about. It's like all of the bits of disgusting ooze that accumulates around an injury that need to be cleaned off of the open laceration so healing can happen correctly. I think this ethereal gunk is exactly that. It's this... stuff that sits on an open mind and keeps people from thinking intelligently about anything. This stuff is like poison as it works its way into every wrinkle of a man's cerebrum. Eventually, if it's not stopped, it will move from his head to his heart and poison his soul. Already I feel the madness is upon me. I shall not be able to work my magic without the taint of the gunk that has moved into the fabric of my literary spell.

There are thoughts that I'd like to think. They are powerful thoughts, too. And once I can raise these thoughts to the written word, they will shoot up into the sky like a laser, bursting the clouds and sky, making the angels sing, and perhaps bringing a tear to the eye of God - where He, Himself, will mutter, "Wow! That boy can write!"

With those words once read, men, women, and children of all creeds and colors will become one and join hands. There will be peace and tranquility for all people, living and dead. This will happen once I can center myself, meditate, and find the correct combination of words and syllables to compose. Then true joy will reign. But I have gunk on my mind. So this can not happen.

I know what you're thinking. What is this gunk? How do I find it?

Well, your gunk is not my gunk. Okay, it's probably not your gunk. This is my gunk. See if you can recognize it.

I have a problem with the way the universe works. Try as I might I cannot reconcile the eternal rule of being born lucky rather than smart. This works against my concept of justice.

There are millions of people around the world who are so smart that you can cut yourself on their intelligence. They have nothing but the best of intentions for all of humanity and, given the chance, would make this world a better place.

These people have a giving philosophy, they have taken their ego out of the equation. Were you to meet any one of them, and I'm sure you have, you'd leave inspired to be a better person. And not only would you want to emulate this person you'd take the lesson or wisdom you learned from them and try to apply it in your life to make your spouse or children that way, too. And, if you could, you'd try to make your pets act that way as well.

We have all met these people. People who come into your life and make a difference. For one fleeting moment, the world feels a little lighter, we grin a little wider, and laugh a little louder. When we see that person, we naturally want the best for them as we would naturally want the best for ourselves.

But that does not happen.

Because the universe is what it is, that person's life is usually fraught with adversity. Wealth and affluence escape them like quicksilver through a sieve. While it is their desire to be successful, and while they have the intelligence to work long hard hours in any profession because they are committed to doing the right thing, the universe will rarely smile upon them.

However, have you noticed the opposite is true though? The bastard who only looks out for himself, the guy who uses people only to get ahead, manages to go through life unscathed. You see these people, too. They are the ones riding around in luxury cars, living in large homes, and spitting on the down trodden. They are the spiritually ignorant and the morally bankrupt. But the universe has smiled upon them.

I know this makes me sound petty and ridiculous. And to some point, I am.

Do I envy these people? Yeah, I do. I do because they can act in ways that I never can. And it's not because they are intelligent, or morally superior to me, it's because for some reason they were either in the right place at the right time or knew someone who was able to help them find their passion OR woke up in the middle of the night to discover it.

They were born lucky and I was not.

People with the illusion that there is cosmic justice in this world will tell you that evil minded rich people will eventually get what's coming to them. And I will remind you that it isn't so. While not all of us will acknowledge that JFK, Abraham Lincoln, or Martin Luther King, Jr. were great men, we can acknowledge that they did not deserve assassination. Ironically, we can pretty much also agree that evil monsters like Joseph Stalin, Pol Pot, and Idi Amin, who collectively were responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent lives, did not deserve to die in bed.

I think about this and the gunk oozes around my brain in a festering pool of stinking putrescence. It’s just no good to have. I know, it’s envy - one of the seven deadly enemies of man.

Other systems say, “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s (fill in the blank).” I find this particularly interesting.

Why can’t I?

Was it in the divine will of the Creator that he was going to make some people suffer and others… not? By virtue that this commandment is two parts of “the big ten”, I believe that this must have been his escape clause for not loving everyone equally. On the one hand, I have individual A, who I will bless with insane amounts of luck, a disposition to create evil, have gobs of stupidity and fortune and he will live a stress free life of fulfillment while on the other hand I have individual B, who I will give intelligence, goodness, logic, reason, wisdom, and the knowledge that he will continue to beat his head senselessly against a wall with frustration as none of the intricately brilliant plans he makes will ever come to fruition.

And they ask why I stopped going to church.

More gunk fills my skull.

Here’s what I want. I want a cosmic deli number. I want some record that when I come with a request to the universe, that someone isn’t going to cut in line and take my pound of ethereal fresh cut ham. I have a ticket. I’d like the same service you gave “Shmuckie the Clown”, who’s as dumb as a bag of dead squirrels*. Or at least give me a voucher and a sign to let me know that the world is not ready for me to profit and use my goodness to help the downtrodden (i.e. – we’re out of ethereal ham, but we have a very nice cosmic pork roll you might like). Okay, I know by now, you’ve realized that I’ve lost my mind. It’s still there. It’s only buried under a gallon of festering gunk. If you look hard enough, you might see it there under the green ooze.

So I sit… and I wait… and I think… and I reason. And above all, I try to never ask the question, “Why?” Then, once my mind has settled, I realize that all I can do at this point is love.

Love what? Love what I have. I love my wife. I love my dogs. I love my house. Sometimes I even love my family. I appreciate what I have right now. This is called settling. I settle for what I have and not for what I hunger for. Our ideals and our dreams keep us moving forward. And while it is frustrating to see our efforts crash and burn over and over again, we keep trying because that is life.

Maybe that is what the universe is doing. It made simple minded dolts rich because the challenge of living would be too complex for them. It’s as if the Creator said, “Listen, there are people out there who are doing good work and using big words. The problem is that they bore easily. I need you to make them crazy because if they solve their puzzles too quickly, they’ll have nothing to do while I have the earth incorporate plastic into its matrix. So, spend the money I’m giving you with no strings attached, make their lives hellish, keep voting for Republicans, and, under no circumstances, ever stop being stupid. Got that? Okay, one more time…”

I need to lie down now.

*- If it bothers you to think of dead squirrels, substitute them for dead cockroaches. It is scientifically proven that no one likes cockroaches.