The Leaky Bucket Syndrome

Ever thought of your brain as a leaky bucket? Well, you won’t be able to unthink it
now. For a start, your grey cells are a receptacle at which billions of drops of water
are being hurled every time you leave your front door. Now imagine you’re in a
foreign country like Bulgaria, where the language is different, as are the architecture,
the food, the music, the faces of the people – and then you’re multiplying those
billions by yet more billions.

This is where your Reticular Activating System (RAS) comes to the rescue and stops
your brain crashing like a computer built in 1964. The RAS is essentially the
“gatekeeper” or the “bouncer” of your brain. It’s a bundle of nerves located in the
brainstem that filters out the noise so the important stuff can get through to your
conscious mind.

Sometimes it comes in the form of the “Red Car Phenomenon”, whereby you decide
you want to buy a particular model, and suddenly see it at every intersection. They
were always there, but now your RAS is letting the data through. Or the “Cocktail
Party” effect, when you’re in a crowded space, ignoring most conversations amid the
general hubbub, but suddenly hear your name spoken from way across the room.
Again your RAS is programmed to pick up that signal. So let’s hear it for the RAS,
which has been operating forever, and you’ve never even stopped to thank it.
So to begin with, writing is a way of recording and observing information that
matters to you. I use social media like a diary, noting and sharing stuff that gets past
my gatekeeper. Any other person strolling through Sofia would have a very different
set of observations: we might coincide only on the most obvious impressions. The
fact that other people often come and comment on my diary is a massive bonus, but
I’d probably carry on even if I were the last person on Earth. It’s a keepsake for my
future self. And a way of selling books of course – if book sales that soar into at
least double figures turn you on.

Question

Do you see writing as having this diary function for you too? Or in your case does it
help you escape daily life rather than record it?