The Other

I continue to operate under the notion that while I have a waking consciousness that views and interacts with reality, another consciousness operates within my brain. That other consciousness deals with the hidden, the abstract, and general analysis and computation of input data into a personal experiential universe. Just as the daily operational mind receives inputs and offers outputs (car coming, stick out hand and act like arrogant fool) so does the other half. Except the other half tends to communicate like an adolescent crack head on acid.

Nowhere is this more apparent than when I just wake up and the flood of ideas from the other half spills across receptors not quite tuned in for the mundane tasks of the day. Working swing shift with no alarm to taint the information allows me to lay back and experience it for a few minutes every day. It's the transition period, the shift change. The Other is coming down from the psychedelic trip, the manic acid fueled energy is still spewing forth frantically. The receptors are still in overdrive, but fuel has run out. The manic reorganization of the universe according to the grand scheme of some sick and twisted librarian is done for now. Time to kick back and meditate. But the social self can come out and play. This portion of the brain can do things like eat food, sip beverages, tie shoe laces, punch buttons, and tell bums to go bother rich people. It bounces around the still hyper-active synapses like the minister's sheltered daughter at summer camp... in Tijuana.

The two Jakes. My constant companion and the deranged lunatic of a friend that nobody understands. Over time the translations get better, but I still wish he'd try a little harder. Yes. You communicate in symbols, I get that. But what the hell kind of symbol is an eight legged creature that acts like a small dog but looks more like a chia pet with lush bonsai trees popping out of its segmented back?

Take that, Freud.