Logic has long made a grudging acquaintance with my persona (usually though M.C. Escher’s “Relativity” painting is my touchstone). It’s a relationship that’s every bit as oddball as the geometrically twisted Rubik’s Cube you see here. In my admittedly (slightly) neurotic youth, I would impulsively make and cling to outrageous beliefs through insane leaps of illogic (“5 minutes isn’t longer than 3 minutes!” and “if it’s June 17 in Singapore today, it must be June 18 in Vancouver today. WTH? I’m going to need two sets of calendars.”) More often than not, I intuited before, rather than rationalized or deduced a situation after the fact. Being a South Pole learner, I couldn’t understand the concept of synthesis. Mr. Holmes and deduction were my allies; Occam’s Razor was not. The simplest answer was rarely the correct one for me. I would have to circle the proverbial corn field twice to find the crop circles.
It wasn’t until fairly recently that I discovered that typing in what I call “accelerated autopilot mode” afforded me a rather unique look into my own brain and the odd manner in which it processes the data that it takes in … whether I am reading it out loud or silently.
Interestingly, pronouns (he for she, they for I, we for me) would get swapped, genders (or the lack thereof) nonsurgically transposed and lately, even words that were quasi-homonymic would be substituted (and most curiously, having perfect spelling, none of these incorrectly used words were ever misspelled–thus rendering spellcheck useless 🙂 ). The substitutions are often quite amusing–but at least I never spelled “mousse cakes” as “moose cakes” :).
I will also subconsciously substitute letters for numbers. The letter “i” for 1 and “z” for 2 are cosmetically if not morphologically understandable. However, the letter “r” for the number 4, and the letter “b” for number 8, leads me to conclude that at least part of me was seeded elsewhere. Or perhaps my literacy is trumping my (lack of) numeracy with direct substitution. Is this some heretofore unheralded mental aberration, and if so, I would like to pass a motion to have it named after me.
But just to throw a monkey wrench into the works, I actually remember dreaming that I invented a chemistry constant during my university days! Now if only I could remember what that was that earned me my imaginary Nobel prize. 🙂 And even stranger still, in my waking moments, I came to the correct answer(s) through completely unorthodox deductions in one of my university chemistry classes! I know I’ll never be invited to join Mensa any time soon or in the far-flung future–say PHP, Perl, Ajax, Actionscripts and my eyes start glazing over–but the above all leads me to ponder what a strange set of noodles I have. Is my corpus callosum overused or underused? Is there maybe an alternative route joining the two hemispheres that no one told me about? Are all the synapses firing? Are the dendritic fibers looking a bit frayed? Maybe the convolutions are deep crevasses that I have lost a few mental buttons in? The more I learn about my brain, the less I can I say I know about it.
How else can I explain how I can play sixteen consecutive rounds of Word Battle in FaceBook with a friend (and win them all) and hold a completely coherent phone conversation with another friend at the same time? 🙂