Me: There's something wrong with my leg. I don't know what it is, but I feel something wrong with it, and I can't run like everyone else.
Everyone Else: Everything's fine. You're just imagining things.
Me: I'm not imagining this blood.
Everyone Else: Oh, a bleeding leg is normal. But it will stop bleeding. You have a chemical imbalance that makes you think that it's wrong.
Me: Because it is wrong.
Everyone Else: Which is why you need a few mood-altering drugs. Would you like a dose of Paxil?
Three days later, I'm found dead in an alley. The cause of death...exsanguination.
It amazes me that just about everyone I know is just faster than me...even old people. There's no sense of hesitation or uncertainty in their movements; they think and do. Some people say the trick to this is not to think about what you're doing, but that really doesn't make sense. If a violinist suddenly had her violin stolen, she would notice the lack of notes; she is acutely aware of the instrument that is in front of her. If I'm not thinking about the how of writing and focus on what my sentences are going to look like on the completed pages, my entries would look more akin to this:
Serr this si smme ntot [emwond sin fidsovmcisf foM totpyt o pt tjos l tons sp[itm;snhsdmfitln what ir ianw aia Nkdnlsjf sd;gm mgdf sd;k[gsk'gs'gl[/
I can't even remember what it was I was going to write above. Seriously, it wasn't nonsense. It was something out of my heart and soul, and I was trying to write it without thinking that there is an interface between me and the machine, without the numerous edits in words that occur a miliion times prior to the words appearing on the screen. Then see people type words so swiftly that they type faster than I can even think. My brain makes a pause before completing the thought, and as a result, by the time I think about putting down the idea I had in my brain there is a chance it got hung up in the corner of my brain or forgotten altogether. Even if there were a magical device that were to allow my brains to communicate directly to the computer, the people who surround me on a daily basis are able to do much more.
But as I was writing, it takes me so long to actually write even a simple sentence by typing it I don't even want to type it by the time I get to the end of it. I have rehearsed the sentence over and over in my head so much so that the thing that comes on the screen not only does not resemble what I originally had written but not English at all. Unlike other people who move their fingers on the keyboard and write the words that immediately come to mind, I have to actually think not just to type, but to construct a sentence, then refine it.
Getting back to my original point. When you sit at the computer, are you immediately at one with it, the keyboard as easily and quickly expressing your words as your own voice? Can you switch from window to window in a fraction of a second, without having to study and confirm that you are doing the right thing? Or are you keenly aware of the physical device you use to transfer your thoughts from the mind to the virtual world, and the words that you desperately want to write can only come out three words at a time, because if you think of anything past those few moments, you'll forget about the present and the thought you were holding onto?
If I weren't so worried about the cost, I'd love to get an MRI just to see if my brain does work like other people's or not.