Patty's Brain: Redux

I am an idea person, a very verbal idea person. A "can't see the forest for the trees" kind of person. If an idea, observation, or memory pushes its way to the forefront, it immediately free falls with delight (yippy!) to my tongue and discharges itself unfiltered through my mouth.

My brain is an over crowded, egalitarian universe of planets and lots and lots of space debris. These heavenly bodies and flotsam are my ideas, observations and memories that are constantly jostling and jockeying to be noticed by their omniscient yet flawed master, Little Patty. She is the perpetual five-year-old Patty whose picture you see on my blog (best.picture.ever!). 

When one of them goes supernova (yes, my flotsdam has the power to go supernova: my universe, my rules), it outshines the others and irradiates them into semi-stuperous states. My little supernova-let's call her Dorcas, a favorite name of mine-awakens Little Patty from her slumber/boredom and she is excited (look: it sparkles!). Admiring the awsomeness of Dorcas, she is overcome with an unbridled passion that springs her into action. With scratch paper and laddie pencil in hand, Little Patty runs in circles, talks a mile-a-minute and mobilizes the troops. She delegates most of the work to the frontal lobe because she doesn't want to be bogged down by the details and really likes to just run and skip excitedly. She bounces, she becomes distracted, she eats a snack, becomes distracted, etc.

 Eventually, she meanders to the limbic system-emotional brain-and something begins to happen that makes Little Patty sad. Even though she is the god of this universe, somehow the voices of "the others" break into her enthusiam and take away her power, wear her down and make her doubt herself. They tell her she is a hyperactive Non sequitor and that she needs to be more focused and productive: they tell her she needs to grow up. Dorcas dims and Little Patty skulks back to her corner.

 Little Patty needs her voice to be heard outside of my head. She needs to have her supernovas out there, but in a way that "the others" can understand. She needs the forty eight-year-old me to organize and put into words her ideas, observations and memories, because she sees things in a really neat way, and I like her.