Once I get an idea in my head - for better or worse - it is stuck. Often the idea is a dead end or a distraction and I know it. This makes no difference. It is already too late. The tenacity of the bond will cause focus bordering on obsession and I might as well forget about sleep. This has worked to my benefit on many occasions. I've saved money, quit jobs, learned about bicycles, traveled by bicycle, and purchased a box truck on a credit card. In my youth I hunted and gathered a low-level-famous collection of Mad Magazines that would be impressive for the efforts of an adult, let alone a 6th-grader. Later in life, I created condimentpacket.com, and still my brain holds a giant catalog of information about portion control sachets (as the industry likes to call them.) None of this might have happened without a brain as sticky as butyl-backed tape.
The issue is one of control. I have little or no control over what my brain sticks to. If I could aim my focus at learning a language or studying the law, I might find a better return on investment than, say, spending hours per day tracking down tartar sauce packets in the Czech Republic and convincing somebody to send them to me.
If nothing else, I am happy to accomplish something rather than nothing. I am happy with who I am, even if I am sometimes frustrated that I am unable to deploy my go-go-gadget brain-tape with any semblance of aim. I'm already on this ride, so I might as well enjoy it. It is on this note that I bring you the latest installment from my growing files of Cussler-correspondence. I bring you now to my latest text-based bid to amuse myself.