Category Archives: Cognition

Narrativity

We’re visual, devoting near a third of mental processing to what we see, but I submit descriptors are absurd that disregard our kind’s affinity for narrative. We love our stories so, we use them for religion, to explain observed phenomena, … Continue reading

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Animal Brain

An older friend complained of monkey brain, at breakfast, after shattered sleep one night. I understood; she didn’t need explain the time awake, the way her thoughts would light from cares to frets to worries like a chimp in manic … Continue reading

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Ambiversion

I claimed I was an introvert, before I gave the subject tests and further thought. “Gregarious but loner” was the score assumed by me, and to my children taught. They nodded, stating they were otherwise, but after we stopped trying … Continue reading

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Being Me (Then)

To tell the truth, I’ve had some lonely nights, an adolescence frustrating and long, a prime so stressed and busy that delights were interrupted, sacrificed to strong responsibilities, or else occurred but didn’t meet anticipation then. Oh there were dismal … Continue reading

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Being Me (Now)

I’ve met depression in my closest friends; I know it isn’t sadness but disease. I had to stretch to sense how gloom descends on them, and colonizes energies, while I appear to teem with neural wealth (my serotonin levels must … Continue reading

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Familiar

I hang out with a toddler twice a week. I focus on him focusing on sights, expressing feelings, learning how to speak, reducing naps for longer sleep at nights. I’m also spending hours, now and then, with stroke recovery. At … Continue reading

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Not Neuro

Perambulating, sometimes I ignore the views I’m walking through. I organize my errands, screen a daydream, focus more inside than on the scenes before my eyes. Returning to what’s present, I’ve been known to wonder where I’ve wandered. I forgot … Continue reading

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Listage

I used a monthly planner till a year ago, when I cut back as office thrall. I bought a tiny calendar but near misplaced it in my bag, it was so small. Selecting something bigger now, I got a sturdy … Continue reading

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Mr. B’s Phonograph

One day when I was ten and in 5th grade, the teacher spun a record for us all. I can’t remember what the needle played, but I can see the phonograph – a small appliance on a table in the … Continue reading

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Sot

I want to like her but she drinks too much, and isn’t near as fun to be around as she must think she is. She’s apt to touch me needlessly, repeat herself, expound on criticisms victims overhear, embarrass me and … Continue reading

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