In a lot of ways, I view the mind as a place where an infinite amount of dreams, desires, questions, thoughts and answers can come together for a really cool intellectual shindig. A place of color and harmony; discovery and emotion; decision and conclusion. The mind I’m describing is one of optimism, when you’re having a “good day” kind of mind. Of course, everyone has those times where our mind gets the best of us and we proudly wave the “emo” flag for a while, as we sulk in our bonafide slump.

After we brush our hair for a first time in a few evenings or actually decide that more fast food won’t allow you to see the sun shine any sooner, most usually snap out of it. The most that I’m speaking of see the light eventually, and let the previous issue roll off their back. Whether they recognize it as trivial and unnecessary to even worry about, or have come to a decision they can move forward with, they jump back into that “good day” kind of mind. Realizing that everything can be a lesson, they understand that sitting and thinking about exactly why or how the negative bee that stings our brain on various occasions, clouding that “good day” kind of mind with bee venom… or whatever they carry, isn’t going to get them anywhere fast.
The most that I’m speaking of learn to limit if not prohibit their struggles from overtaking their entire existence, not letting themselves put a hinder on any progression that needs to take place. The most that I’m speaking of take what they can from each situation faced, bringing the essential moral of the story with them to their next journey. At the very end of the day, they enjoy life for its beauty and amazement, and its joy as well as its priceless magic.
I say most because I tend to view myself as the only one, the anomaly. I truly feel that I’m alone in all of this. A reject of the beloved club I previously mentioned, desperately wanting to belong to such a care-free group of life-accepting people. So much of the time, I completely throw away the invitation to the described shindig without thinking twice. Actually, without thinking at all. The reason I don’t even considering attending is because I’m guilty of being the official poster child for all of the things these beautiful people don’t do. I’m guilty of doing all of the above without question or reason, just because title I’ve unwillingly yet very voluntarily have taken on an incredibly demanding title.

This isn’t a title that would sit neatly on one of those wooden name plate thing-eys that are on desks of lawyers and guidance counselors or the kind of title they put under a washed-up producer’s name from 1982 on a Behind the Music special. It’s actually a title that I haven’t written down before now. Its one I’ve grown to resent, one I clearly don’t appreciate and wish would disappear without notice.
Not to be too wordy, I’d call it Hyper-Analytical Mentally Consumed Thought-Junkie. Sounds super cool, right? Whatever the opposite word of cool would be...Logically, “un-cool” seems to fit. Super whack to be really casual.
This title has somehow stepped into my life, even though I’m sure it’s been with me in some form since at least 3rd grade, it’s now at a point where the crew of Intervention is desperately needed. I’ve allowed my thoughts to be the sole controller of my day, my night and even my early afternoon. Nitpicking at every facet of a situation, analyzing the theme, concept, sub-theme and sub-concept, pondering the reason behind it even appearing in my life. Becoming an active participant in my mind’s flips, turns and tumbles while being completely paralyzed at the same time.
It’s become my Ike Turner, Joe Jackson and Ms. Trunchbull [Matilda] all in one disastrous combination. I haven’t been thinking in a way that’s actually get me anywhere, while a number of my mental journeys have all the power to do so. I just sit and I think. I go back and forth for minutes, hours, sometimes days about the same topic, the same brainteaser that I’m trying to solve. Instead of taking proactive steps to conquer that puzzle of madness, or so it feels like a lot of the time, I’ll just stop all action, to think. To think. That’s it. I’ll wonder if doing this action will take me in this direction, and what will the end result be. I’ll imagine where I can go if I just make a decision, if I just pick a side and act, but I don’t actually move to that desired destination.

My mind takes overbearing control of the smallest issues in my life to the deep issues that actually carry a lot of weight to me. Whether I can’t figure out if I should tell a boy I like him because I haven’t even come to the conclusion of whether I like him or not, to just sitting down and actually writing instead of being the biggest wimp this side of the Rio Grande and the freaking Mississippi, simply fearful of where it will take me, to even being upset with myself for thinking about why I’m upset with myself for thinking! Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to describe the hell I put my brain through on a daily basis.
With all of this said, wishing I could give my mind a well-deserved water bottle, I have to stop. I have to stop this craziness, this uncontrollable maze of death I continue to partake in. Well, not death; but the message is clear. So often, I know what I need to do and have figured out a plan of action, but my thoughts hold me back. They inhibit me from progressing in any direction. In order for me to really start living, I need to tell my mind to shut up. Shut up, mind. Shut up.

Make a decision. Come to a realization or conclusion.
And if I don’t come to that conclusion at that very moment, move on!
I’ll eventually figure out life’s great mysteries, and if I don’t, you know the saying.
Oh, well.
The funny thing is the issues that I believe are great mysteries are petty little predicaments that can easily be solved with some good ol’fashioned rationale. The issues that I plague my brain with aren’t even problems that should go under the category of “Problem”! I put them there, when that visibly shouldn’t be their place.
Not only do I need to learn how to separate the important things from the miniscule, but I immediately need to get “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” tatted somewhere, and somewhere soon.
In no way am I endorsing a stop to all intellectual thought or a belief that thinking is bad. Obviously not, if I’m writing on this blog...
Great thinkers are what make the world go ‘round and truly taking advantage of what your brain has to offer you is a wonderful thing. I enjoy being more than mentally mediocre, when the outcome isn’t so debilitating.
But it’s to what extent is that thinker suffering more from their thoughts than succeeding?
This has probably been one of most tiring years of my life, and I need to take a nap. A mental nap. No, I’m not overly depressed or lonely and I don’t walk around dressed in black while listening to old Jewel songs as my bangs make it difficult for you to see one of my eyes.
I can be the comedic life of the party and I smile a lot and have a lot of “good times, good times”. The problem is when I’m alone, well my brain and I, and the evil thoughts come a’ lurking.
Well, no more you mean, mean mind of mine! No more.
It’s time for change, in more ways than one. How can I support Obama’s progress when I don’t even support my own? It has to stop. And it will.

As long as I start RSVP-ing to those shindigs I’ve been instinctually declining so often and begin to realize life’s priceless magic like the most I spoke so highly of, I know that the battle with my brain can soon cease.
Deep down, I know that “good day” kind of mind will be in attendance.
I think I actually can reply to the invitation on-line .
E-vite.com or uh, ...
-Regina Selma
Artist: Louisa Giffard
Obama Artist: Michael Murphy