The impulse dominates me before the ego does.
I am happier when my mind wanders, not when it settles. The moment I feel myself planting that ridiculous little flag I carry around on whatever new piece of land I found is when I grunt and sigh and prepare myself for the annoyance of discovery.
Because the discovery and the research feed the ego, not the impulse. But it’s the impulse that gets the ego there. The irony.
However, it is the ego that collects samples, starts digging holes and building a foundation; and all the while the impulse screams “go! next! next!” but I promptly ignore it until I’ve exhausted the thrill of exploration and am ready to move on to the next conquest. I wish I was as much of a finisher as I am of a starter. I am the writer with a million plot holes.
I seriously annoy myself.
“She says ‘oxygen’s overrated
I don’t even need to breathe’
She’s got a tank full of highs
and a mind that never sleeps“