It’s showtime…


Your brain is made up out of a billions and billions of neurons interconnected in an Godly complex manner. We believe our conciousness exist via the various firing of clusters of selective neurons at a given time. The beautiful thing is that each neuron or grey cell pretty much holds one individual piece of information, like a single key on a keyboard produces one clear note on a piano. Only when carefully combined with other notes in various paces do you have the ability to display Musical Conciousness (or for some Pure Noise), which is where I believe our souls reside as a collection of neurons waiting to be set alight.

With the notion that each neuron is ultimately capable of holding one unique piece of information, they you must believe that for the majority of their existance, they behave in a similar manner to the Guards with the funky hats at buckinham palace, unable to move/act or react until provided with the necessary external stimulus, allowing it to fire and come to life.

Some of these grey cells operate in a cataclystic fashion, requiring the firing of other grey cells to set themselves off in a chain reaction, kinda like an emotional nuclear bomb. I’m sure all of us can at least one pleasurable example of where this may be take effect.

But then you wonder when those catalyst grey cells cease to function or forget their original assignment, that you have mass regions of grey matter who sit their idly awaiting the time for their command to be unleashed and they never do. Brought into this world to dedicate their whole life to one purpose and never having the chance to do so, or even being acknowledged by any governing party. They simply wait without hope or remorse.

But one day, the Godly complex manner in which your brain works, repairs something, covers something in sticky tape and nails a few things down in an odd manner and simply waits, all without you knowing, like a Fiance who’s managed to redo the bathroom while you are on holiday (but not being smart enough to get those fucks from changing rooms to do it for free). And then it simply waits….

THEN BAM, finally a spark..

This grey cell realises that this might be its one and last hurrah in your life and like a worthy candidate on the apprentice, it decides to go all out on its task as project manager to not only make sir alan (or Lord Sugar) impressed by to get that white haired lesbian, Margaret to consider going back to cock!!!

(only joking madge, calm down…)

So with this the Neuron Fires with all its heart, agitating its neighours and its neighbours’ neighbours and so on and so forth, forcing awake all its fallen comrades hoping to inspie them to start firing as well, and they do and they do. They chant and scream like a rebellious mob wanting their share of their share of the limelight, clearing the path for enough neurons to start shouting the same thing or to simply shut up, and then something magical happens

The first musical concious note is perfectly played, almost identical to when you hear the first bar of your favourite song come on the radio. Not any note though, your favourite note, your happiest memory from a time, from a you, you thought had been eroded away by the acid rain of adulthood and responsibilities. A pure note from a you when before you even cared who you were. A note that stops time, that stops all other thought, that overrides all your body systems, you let go of life, you let go of death, you let go of the past and future and simply reside in this past of this one pure note. A note from a concious musical piece you had forgotten you had and at first you wonder how such a though came to bring about the emotions that come about, fully unaware the neuron musical conductor has gone all out to saturate your entire being with seratonious notoriety. And with that you urge for more of the song to play but as project manager, the neuron has played it part and has ultimately made you take up this position of blissful reflective meloncholy. It will return to its dormant states yet again, knowing it has fulfilled its purpose if only just the once and tales and legends will be made in its honour, creating new memories and therefore new greycells to fulfill their duties of keeping this great memory.

relaxed-man-feet-up

Well over this week, I think I have created such a neuron, you see I passed my PhD after 5 1/2 years of battling it out and without contest, it will be one of the greatest accolades and achievements of my life. At no point in my life (even during 4-hour the examination) did I think i was worthy but here I am now. While I am not blinded by the trinkets of ceremonious accolades, I will however wish to draw upon this neuron in days to come when I believe I am not worthy of something and I should leave that up to others to decide. Please do not think ill of me neuron for not firing you off on a regular basis, all neurons are equal but some neurons are more equal than others, however, your infrequent use (as well as Mr ‘Shit-the-bed’ neuron) will definitely come in handy to brighten up my life in years to come. So don’t hold it against me.

I encourage you all to find a latent happy memory and relish in it, if not for you, for those neurons who have dedicated their lives to the cause, you deserve to light them up, they’ll return the favour…

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