Sometimes when I'm concentrated in my room and I have one huge and important realization, I noticed I unvoluntarily will rush out as to breath some fresh air, as if that would help me swallow the idea. And although sometimes it's a key element that wraps things together, it opens a new world to tread, a new world to fit with the already existing one.
It becomes then like a matter of being too inspired, having too many of thoughts at once. It's when I have no focus that I start walking around the place pointlessly, until I have the courage to come back to the writing station. And by writing here my mind calms down, like a little toy for the hyperactive to distracts himself.
This is all about Generations being a braudelian concept, and the surface generations, those thousands of little waves of individual thoughts (nudging around those even more instantaneous emotional responses leaving me even more unfocused), are the worst ones. Sometimes a good idea appears in the ocean of thoughts trying to decpher the codes, but it is overwhelmed, runned over by the mass of agitated thoughts trying to get attention. And there the poor guy disappears, becomes one more unfinished business weighing in my mind.
But maybe I should be glad the spin happened, and then it would be a matter of the spin happening again, and then charging it until it would be strong enough to bear a name, and then becoming a motif, so a little harder to be erased from my mind again.
Hm, maybe that could mean something. Maybe the strength of the motif in the crazy stormed mind is what indicates the potential for it to become Perennial...
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