Ideas want to survive. They want their chance. I need to give them that chance.

I wrote this sometime between 1PM and 4PM on July 1. It's now July 5. That's bad. But it's good that it's out. And good that it's the third thing I've written today. More to come I hope.My brain hurts! It's full of ideas that want to get out. They're trapped. Trapped in my skull. And they'll do anything to get out. Including driving me insane.Insane!Fifteen minutes ago I was thinking of killing myself. Actually thinking that thought, but unlikely to follow through. But I was thinking of killing myself. Not because I was unhappy. To the contrary, my life is great. I'm not unhappy. But the noise inside my head was unbearable. Half-formed ideas demanded attention. They needed closure. Completion. Ideas cried out for connection to other ideas. Ideas collided with ideas and new ideas were born and screamed out as they were born. The racket was unending. The noise wouldn't stop. Suicide seems like a rational solution. It would work in the short-term, but it was clearly a shit solution in the long-term. Better Solutions might be possible, in theory. But in practice, there was no place for them because- ideas! Ideas! Ideas! Too many! Too fast!I went running to Bobbi and whined. “ Take a walk up the driveway,” she suggested after listening for a while. I take a brisk walk and come back panting. “Better?” She asks. “ Yes,” I say. “And no.” I'd gotten some ideas out of my head, so better. But the spaces had been filled with new ideas, so worse.We talk strategy. I need discipline. “Pick just one thing and write about it,” she suggests. “ I can't,” I answer. "Everything is connected to everything else so if I write about anything I must write about everything. And I'll never get done.” (This is a fact. Writing about everything will take a long time, probably forever.)“I can't just write,” I continue complaining, “I have to research. What if I remember something incorrectly? What if I state a fact and it turns out to be false? Then I'd be no better than Donald Trump! That would be horrible!"Then I've got to take what I've just written and hyperlink it to source materials. I've got to link my new post to any posts I've written on similar topics."I don't have a good way to find my posts, but I did write a program, that uses the Google API to go through my blog and pull information into a spreadsheet. But I haven't finished the program. And it's one more thing to write about.I throw up my hands in despair.But in despair comes an answer. My mind is wonderful. I am joyful-- full of joy-- as I watch my mind in action. And I feel despair. How can I use this wonderful device to produce something of value?I'm driven to write. I'm not driven by ego. I'm not hoping to become famous. I don't think it's going to help me get laid. I'm beyond that. My need has two origins: relief and duty. I want relief from the demands made by the ideas that are in my head and wanting to get out. Duty because it's my job to get them out. I'm lucky. I've been given a mind such as the one I have. I'm fortunate to have it filled with ideas such as the ones I have. These ideas are alive. They want to live and they're stuck in my head.When I die, they die, unless I let them out. If I let them out they've got a chance to live--even a chance of immortality. But stuck in my head, their days are numbered. Who wouldn't be angry if someone condemned them to death and didn't give them a chance for independent life? Only I can give them that chance. It's my fucking job. I’m the only one who can do it. And I'm not doing it.They're angry. I'm guilty. And confused. And I'm going insane."Okay, ideas. I'm not deaf to your needs. I want what you want. I'd like to see you out there. But if you want to get out of my head, you're going about it the wrong way. You're going to have to help me, not make it harder."Calm down! Stop fighting! Accept reality! Some of you are going to die in here. I'm sorry if it's you. I'm sorry that the world works that way."But if you cooperate, some of you might get out."But that's only going to happen if you shut the fuck up and let me write."Better yet, find ways to help me!"Find ideas that can help me so that the rest of you get out."Push them to the front of the line."This helped. So thanks to whoever pushed that idea forward."Thank you!