Cranial Wars

Welcome to my mind. My cranium hides one of the worst battlefields known to man, a place where reality and fiction clash, where good fights against evil.

You have been warned.


1. Cranial Wars - The Words

Hi, I’m Tom. Welcome to my world. Today I’m going to give you a voyage into the unknown, a journey beyond the realms of man, a peek into the complex battles that are being fought inside my Cranial Cavity. It’s an exploration like no other, an examination as to what make me tick as a person. An assessment of the state of mind in Tom’s brain. The President of the United States gives a State of the Union Address each year, even the Queen, that’s of England not of my mind ;) , gives a speech each year. This is my time and maybe the only time I let the shackles fall on the doors to my brain.


It may be unpleasant, you may not like what you find lurking in the dark, festering recesses. You may be repulsed by the thoughts and views both factions hidden in there profess. You may be shocked by the way the mood can swing so suddenly, how one faction gets the upper hand in an instant, changing the chemicals that course through my veins from good to bad and back again in the sleight of an eye. You have been warned, reading further may give you an advantage over me that you can use to further destroy my very soul.


So let me loosen these chains that keep the world out, or I guess more accurately keep my thoughts from spewing their views into the world without going through the censorship filters. Maybe I could explain how they work? Do you want to know, are you interested? Urgh? Well when someone asks me a question, the control centre in my head routes it to the various departments for an answer.


Some such as the memory and learning area will give a straight answer, they all work for the common good in there letting me give an answer to the capital of Mongolia. Of course at times there are bits which won’t give the right answer but it’s based on what’s stored in there. Can’t help the gaps in my knowledge. Ulan Bator, by the way is the capital of Mongolia. Is that right? It’s the questions about life, how I feel, my opinions that get put through the filters. They’re quite sophisticated at times, sensing who is asking the question and working out the response that they require.


For instance, the easy question is sent down to the mood centre. It’s a dangerous place to work though . This is where most of the fighting takes place, where the battlefield between emotions happens. World War One never had anything on here. It’s entrenched warfare, carnage on a massive scale where the rational meets the irrational and is often heavily outnumbered. The answer comes back usually moaning, giving an answer that the asker wouldn’t want. The censors kick in and the answer is always ‘I’m OK’. At times the mind hates the censors, wants people to know how it really feels, let people know exactly what’s paining it today. Open warfare exists between all the areas and the censor filters. However, they’re stronger and the turmoil and pain is kept inside unleashing its terror on other parts, making the scene blacker than a coal mine at night.


It’s at times like this that the mind is liable to suggest things that the rational side would never contemplate. I’ve been lucky, I guess, that the irrational side has never fully gained control. It’s loud and aggressive but the rational side is stronger and robust in its Kevlar coated riot gear. A few times the irrational side has sensed victory and took control pushing the big red self-destruct button. Luckily for me the other side got back control but it was touch and go once whether it would wrestle power back in time.


Anyway the filters protect the wider world from the excesses of the mind, so I guess the only thing they do for me is stop me getting a fist in the nose and make my mind highly unstable.


So we’ll move on from the control centre and start to delve deeper into my consciousness. One of the most active areas of the cranial cavity is my imagination sector. I reckon it must be one of the most fertile areas of the brain. At times its output is outstanding, at others I think it gets influenced by all the battles that occur in other places. It’s responsible for all these mumbling that I call writing, for all those dreams and nightmares. It never stops, twenty-four seven it keeps up its output, cutting into continually to everyday tasks. It has its own dark side which overactive for long spells at a time.


Part of it is the fantasy section. I wouldn’t say I’m a fantasist living in an imaginary world. I’m no Walter Mitty type character. I don’t imagine I’m a rock star fronting made up band, don’t think I’m a racing driver. BUT like everyone, my mind wandered and I fantasise over life, over where I might be. Not an area I’m going to show you today. It’s almost as bad as those parts that rage open offensives at times. I guess my filters help me, separate the fact from the fiction, the good from the bad.


The outputs of my fantasies and imagination are just that, fiction. I don’t think at times they are good and understand why people don’t like them. Although my imagination is spectacular, the products of my writing aren’t that stellar, judging by the feedback I get.


This brings me to another part of my mind, the confidence side. I guess this is the smallest area of the whole cranium. The confidence I have in myself takes a battering and the souls who inhabit this room aren’t very strong. They live next door to the ones who are responsible for doubt who have the largest voices of any. Doubt have all the heavy weapons, stuff that if existed in the real world would be responsible for raising vast traits of land and laying waste to cities.  They are the ones that have all the heavy artillery. The ones who pound my cranial cavity with noise, drowning out all those who try to put doubt in its place. It works against self-confidence undermining me.


It tells me I’m being ignored; people don’t like me. When I ‘speak’ most times my voice is lost in the mindless chatter of others, Doubt takes this and with heavy blasts it tells the rest of me I’m rubbish. When I publish works by the imagination and no one reads, no one likes or comments Doubt just further bludgeons Confidence and once again the doubt and loathing for myself start all over again. The victory parties from Doubt are immense and reinforces Doubt’s supremacy against the rest. While the parties rave on, my confidence shrinks even further back into the room, afraid to escape, unable to cope with life. Being ignored is the worse emotion, one my confidence can’t cope with. It makes me withdraw from life, always unsure of why people just ignore. Making me more afraid of raising my head over the parapet again.


I’ll move on from here and before we go back to the control room we’ll pass a lot of lockers. Please don’t reach out and try to open them. These are the repositories for difficult memories. Sometimes I rummage through them causing me pain and emotional stress. I know I shouldn’t, I know the anguish it will bring about. God, I wish I didn’t do this BUT I do. I’ve spent too much time down here in the depths, wallowing in the turgid festering wounds. I’ve started to get better, beginning to let go those memories and thoughts. Life is improving but the same doubts these memories cause are still there. Only one really pains me still and I’ll never ever get the answers to that one. I daren’t revisit it. Hopefully I can close it forever but well…


So that was the minefield, the battleground that is my brain. I hope it doesn’t traumatise you too much. I hope the turmoil ends soon, hope that the good side will triumph and the bad are forever routed. Thank you for listening.




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