Head, Heart, Hand.
Jun. 19th, 2007 12:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chanticoI firmly believe in the power of the human mind over matter, particularly our own fleshy bits. Unfortunatly, without massive psychic powers, there are some things insidious enough to slip past our notice until its too late to change them.
I'm worried right now that I've found myself in a distressing position of having something like that happen with my body, and what's being affected isn't something I can just live and deal with, unpleasent or no-- I think I might have fucked up my brain, or at least the way I think, and I don't know how to, or even if I can, repair it.
The headspace I live in these days is so vastly different from the one I occupied just four years ago that the innerscape!Avery of freshman year wouldn't even recognize the innerscape!Avery now. There would be maps required. Complicated ones. With topographies included. My social intelligence has taken the pilot seat from the introspective (and the lonely), and verbal thinking/communication has been replaced by increasing visual intelligence. In short- I've switched form being someone who was a left and right brain thinker into being heavily right-brained . . . and my left-brain has suffered for it, to the point that I an noticing a marked decrease in my ability to access skillsets that I used to have very highly developed, and other right-brained activites have become increasingly difficult. One such thing easily recognizable by anyone that's had to create an 'Avery's Stuff' box at their place is my memory. Believe it or not, while I was always absent minded, I was *never* as bad as I am now. More frightening, it's not getting better ta all-- it's getting worse. Two years ago, i might leave my phone lost somewhere in your couch-- but I would never have to check *more* than three times whether I had my keys before I left the house . . . within the span of two minutes. I would forget my homework assignment or where I left my glasses, but not the beginning of a thought once I reached the middle. I think *that * is the scariest example. I'll begin thinking about something and seconds later have no idea why this word or image was in my head, the motivations behind it's existence and even the thing itself quickly fading into a soup of mental blather. That . . . really sucks. A lot.
Likewise, my verbal acuity has gone the way of the All Your Base meme. While I was never a potent public speaker due to social anxiety, my word recall was much faster and more accurate, my vocabulary ten times the size it is now . I was once clever-- I know, shock and damnation-- high schoool clever, of course, and never when put on the spot . . . but words were things I loved and held tight to. they were my magic and my power.
The last victims and the most badly wounded are my attention span and my discipline. I thought college would help-- I've never been the most disciplined individual. I expected the extra structure of, you know, actually having to turn in homework would be beneficial. The problem, unfortunatly, isn't something external, and I'll never learn if I keep expecting it to be. *I* sabotage myself constantly, and this problem has gone head over heels backwards over the cliff of procrastination and internet addiction . . . even though this is a time when it needs to be more Sigourney Weaver, less Paris Hilton. I should be kicking ass, not indulging myself in fantasies of improvement without actively pursuing it. I'm a smart girl. If I had not fucked around, I could have had a near 4.0. If I was doing anything that broadened myself in other ways, I'd be a lot more forgiving, but mostly I just futzed around on the net.
That's really the disturbing part. I worry superficially about something being physically wrong with my brain-- and it might be, don't get me wrong-- but I think the real issue is I'm out of practice thinking in the same ways I used to. I don't want to lose the social awareness I've gained, or the deeper spiritual connection to everything I now feel, but I *need* my left-brain back.
That lack of discipline is what is keeping my from being able to call myself anything more than an amateur artist. To be an artist, a professional, you have to, you know, *create art*, and I don't produce *nearly* enough. Without that practice, I will never have the skill to be where I want to be, and without the discipline, there's no way I can contract myself out professionally.
Even then, discipline and skill only can take you so far in the creative world. Here's the truth of the matter, and one I need to recognize and remind myself of daily: my art, while increasingly technically proficient, is empty. It has no soul. The beauty and emotional connection that should form an empathic bond with the viewer and make it more than a picture is not there. It might look, cool, but it can't touch . . . and without the touch, my portfolio will never stand out from the hundreds others, my paintings and drawings will never sell.
One the other hand, sometimes I will manage to produce something that *is* quite emotionally resonant, but the craft is crap. I can't seem to unify the two-- I'll get an idea and snapshot in my head, then overwork it until I've wrung all the life out of it; I'll have inspiration and emotion, but no clear image will come to mind and what manages to come out is mud . . . if either of those get out at *all* because I get distracted and forget. I flip back and forth between modes of thought like a hyper child flicking a light switch, when what I need is a damn dimming knob.
Maybe this has to do with my diet and hideous lack of proper nutrition. I don't doubt it. But I also think that a lack of activites that challenge both parts of my brain has conributed.
Just wish I knew what sort of stuff to do to get back on track.
I'm worried right now that I've found myself in a distressing position of having something like that happen with my body, and what's being affected isn't something I can just live and deal with, unpleasent or no-- I think I might have fucked up my brain, or at least the way I think, and I don't know how to, or even if I can, repair it.
The headspace I live in these days is so vastly different from the one I occupied just four years ago that the innerscape!Avery of freshman year wouldn't even recognize the innerscape!Avery now. There would be maps required. Complicated ones. With topographies included. My social intelligence has taken the pilot seat from the introspective (and the lonely), and verbal thinking/communication has been replaced by increasing visual intelligence. In short- I've switched form being someone who was a left and right brain thinker into being heavily right-brained . . . and my left-brain has suffered for it, to the point that I an noticing a marked decrease in my ability to access skillsets that I used to have very highly developed, and other right-brained activites have become increasingly difficult. One such thing easily recognizable by anyone that's had to create an 'Avery's Stuff' box at their place is my memory. Believe it or not, while I was always absent minded, I was *never* as bad as I am now. More frightening, it's not getting better ta all-- it's getting worse. Two years ago, i might leave my phone lost somewhere in your couch-- but I would never have to check *more* than three times whether I had my keys before I left the house . . . within the span of two minutes. I would forget my homework assignment or where I left my glasses, but not the beginning of a thought once I reached the middle. I think *that * is the scariest example. I'll begin thinking about something and seconds later have no idea why this word or image was in my head, the motivations behind it's existence and even the thing itself quickly fading into a soup of mental blather. That . . . really sucks. A lot.
Likewise, my verbal acuity has gone the way of the All Your Base meme. While I was never a potent public speaker due to social anxiety, my word recall was much faster and more accurate, my vocabulary ten times the size it is now . I was once clever-- I know, shock and damnation-- high schoool clever, of course, and never when put on the spot . . . but words were things I loved and held tight to. they were my magic and my power.
The last victims and the most badly wounded are my attention span and my discipline. I thought college would help-- I've never been the most disciplined individual. I expected the extra structure of, you know, actually having to turn in homework would be beneficial. The problem, unfortunatly, isn't something external, and I'll never learn if I keep expecting it to be. *I* sabotage myself constantly, and this problem has gone head over heels backwards over the cliff of procrastination and internet addiction . . . even though this is a time when it needs to be more Sigourney Weaver, less Paris Hilton. I should be kicking ass, not indulging myself in fantasies of improvement without actively pursuing it. I'm a smart girl. If I had not fucked around, I could have had a near 4.0. If I was doing anything that broadened myself in other ways, I'd be a lot more forgiving, but mostly I just futzed around on the net.
That's really the disturbing part. I worry superficially about something being physically wrong with my brain-- and it might be, don't get me wrong-- but I think the real issue is I'm out of practice thinking in the same ways I used to. I don't want to lose the social awareness I've gained, or the deeper spiritual connection to everything I now feel, but I *need* my left-brain back.
That lack of discipline is what is keeping my from being able to call myself anything more than an amateur artist. To be an artist, a professional, you have to, you know, *create art*, and I don't produce *nearly* enough. Without that practice, I will never have the skill to be where I want to be, and without the discipline, there's no way I can contract myself out professionally.
Even then, discipline and skill only can take you so far in the creative world. Here's the truth of the matter, and one I need to recognize and remind myself of daily: my art, while increasingly technically proficient, is empty. It has no soul. The beauty and emotional connection that should form an empathic bond with the viewer and make it more than a picture is not there. It might look, cool, but it can't touch . . . and without the touch, my portfolio will never stand out from the hundreds others, my paintings and drawings will never sell.
One the other hand, sometimes I will manage to produce something that *is* quite emotionally resonant, but the craft is crap. I can't seem to unify the two-- I'll get an idea and snapshot in my head, then overwork it until I've wrung all the life out of it; I'll have inspiration and emotion, but no clear image will come to mind and what manages to come out is mud . . . if either of those get out at *all* because I get distracted and forget. I flip back and forth between modes of thought like a hyper child flicking a light switch, when what I need is a damn dimming knob.
Maybe this has to do with my diet and hideous lack of proper nutrition. I don't doubt it. But I also think that a lack of activites that challenge both parts of my brain has conributed.
Just wish I knew what sort of stuff to do to get back on track.
