deconstruction of self

Okay, one hour after my last post and I'm already described as being overly-negative about everything. That people younger than me posting violent videos of their helpless victims being repeatedly kicked in the head, or that demented souls who are inclined to blow themselves up into smithereens at crowded places, or that we are consuming non-renewable energy at an exponential rate and giving back the Earth nothing but mountains of waste and tons of carbon dioxide pollution every single day, or that two billion people living in the 21st century are constantly a pocketful of change away from utter indigence, shouldn't affect me because they don't affect me in any direct way.

Well, I can't apologize for always seeing the bigger picture because it's not my fault. And I think these things should affect me in some way, or I'll be living in my own world of indulgence and obscene luxury -- and looking at that from the outside, it just seems unthinkable. Selfish. Depraved. It's just plain wrong.

And really, it's not my fault. Blame it on the chemicals in my head sloshing around and telling me what to think. What, you think I can control my right brain to work less and let my left brain be the dominant side? In fact, my male brain has a diminished corpus callosum compared to, say, most of the readers of this blog (whom I like to think are mostly female). Which means I can't switch between being moody and analytical as quickly.

And I can't help it if the left inferior gyrus of my frontal lobe cortex -- better known as Broca's area to the initiated -- is just itching to say something when confronted with such horrors of the world. Better than keeping quiet, I should think (I'm not sure which part of my brain is telling me that).

And them chemicals, them neurotransmitters, there's never enough of what I need, and there's always more of what I don't. For instance, where's the dopamine when I'm upset and depressed about my life? And where's the serotonin when I need to relax and curb my reflexes before I do something stupid?

And my pituitary gland, always so over-active at all the wrong times. Too much myelin around my neurons, and there's no way of knowing whether there's a shortcut between those two, making me susceptible to increasingly morbid bouts of depression. I'm like a 16-year-old again! Where everything is working the wrong way! Makes me feel young.

Okay, I will deconstruct myself more next time (read: blaming everything but myself), because right now someone else needs to use the laptop. Boo-yah!