How do you make it stop?

I've often said to people 'you don't want to get in my head because there's a lot of stuff flying around in there and you might get hit.'   In one of my old incarnations a reader told me I had a mind like an Escher drawing and said I had Twisty Innards.  I actually had a section of my site called Twisty Innards where I'd post whatever craziness came to mind at the time.  After being downsized in September 2001 (nothing to do with the Towers just greed) I kept being asked what I wanted to do.  A Millionaire asked me and I had no clue.  Now, he's having financial difficulties (idjit married a golddigger w/o a pre-nup in a 50/50 state and now they're divorced).  I can't say, "I wanna produce a movie or tv show & write a book.  Gimme money."   Anywho, I sat down to write a list.  What kind of jobs do I want.   What am I good at?  It was pure me aka straight throwed.  What does that mean?  It means I have a mind like a Escher drawing.  (I swear it's taking all I have not to type Etcher Sketch.  See?  Throwed.)  I might dig it up and post it here one day.  You guys might get a kick out of it.   I think one job was rich bitch housewife while another was beard for gay celebrity.   Seriously, I'd make the best beard ever!

Check this out... I've totally lost my train.  I'm derailed.  I have no friggin clue what the heck I was gonna say.  *backtracking* woo ooo woo ooo  I guess since I'm backtracking it should be ooo woo ooo woo   (ooo oow ooo oow?)  Don't laugh at me.  You shouldn't make fun of the mentally challenged.   OK  This all started because I just told Miss Rachel that I was the Pied Piper of 'tarded and that's why I drive the short yellow bus.  I'm a beacon for short yellow bus riders everywhere.  Give me your sick.  Your tired.  Your sick & tired.  And speschule kids everywhere.   (Says the 4am bambler.  Nope not high on meds or anything else for that matter.)  Holy Hannah could you imagine my mind on drugs?  My mind!!  That's it!  I remember.   *Train on track*

Sometimes I come up with some killer ideas if I do say so myself.  Ideas that I do nothing with.   Ideas that eventually I see done (completely wrong) by others eventually.  Now, that I want to do something with one that I think would make a good show, I can not get my thoughts together.  They're all over the place.  I'm having trouble self editing, which is usually not a big problem for me.   I think the problem is I have diverging stories and I don't know which I like the best or how to bring them together.   And, yes, a bit of fear that I can't do it.  Until I can see it in the mist of my mind, I can't write it.   It's probably because I'm stressed the heck out over work and the hernias.   I want to quit, but I no longer have the funds to survive.  I'm my only support.   (Husbands are good for some things I guess.)  GAH!  I'm giving myself a headache.   I've got to make the whirling whizzing ideas slow down so I can move them around at will.  I've got to control my inner computer.  Maybe I should call it an iBrain Touch.   Is that copyright infringement?  How 'bout an aBrain Whirly?  That'd be specific to me, I believe.  Oh well, I'll figure things out.  I have no other choice but to.

And this my lovely chickens is a perfect example of a bamble (allyese for babble + ramble).  I don't babble.  I don't ramble.  I bamble.  And aren't you lucky I do?