So, I've got approximately 547830247872345784378645678680423430675925 mind gremlins boppin' around up there. They look similar to smurfs, but not blue. They are probably a salmon-type color, as that is the color my sources (ie. The Magic School Bus) have led me to believe the color of a brain is. They definitely have the little sock-like hats that smurfs wear, though. Anyway, obviously half of them get the left side of my brain and the other half get the right.
On the left, we have miles and miles and miles of filing cabinets. Billions and trillions of archives of the history of my life since birth, and all the things I've ever done, said, heard, experienced, etc., filed neatly away (yet accessible at any given time), and organized by all my systematic, analytical little lefty gremlins. They crave structure and balance. Most of them wear glasses and have their nose stuck up in the air. They are all major perfectionists and pay far too much attention to detail. That's why you can't even count the files they keep, because every single detail has to be recorded. Their home looks like the interior of an office building, but with no roof because the files are stacked higher than you can even see. They don't get along very well with each other over there, because every one of them thinks that they are right about everything and that their lists are more efficient than everyone else's and that their schedules are the most coordinated. They like to keep to themselves, just them and their files. The most they communicate is through an intercom system that announces when a specific record has been pulled. Each gremlin is in charge of their own filing cabinet, so when they hear that a certain archive has been uprooted for one reason or another, whichever gremlin possesses the file that comes after the one which was just announced, is to pull said file so it can be detected and the pattern can continue. See, it's up to them to keep an orderly thought process going at a manageable pace. However, sometimes they get ahead of themselves and pull too many records at once, creating a jam in the system because the intercom has too many things to announce all at the same time and doesn't know what to do so it shuts down in a fit of smoldering malfunction until the maintenance team can patch things up.
On the right, we have miles and miles and miles of wonderland. All of the right gremlins are artists. They're creative and messy and wear paint-splattered overalls and tie-dye bandanas. The rows of canvas' go on farther than what you can see, and all the gremlins are painting away, either mimicking images they've captured through my right eye or coming up with their own pictures to describe their view of things. That's the only way they process anything, though - through pictures. They would hang them up, but there are no walls because right side wonderland is endless - so they just float around in the air. The world, or at least the sky, looks a lot like the world in "The Labyrinth" ...which is this psycho 80s movie with David Bowie in it that no one I know has ever seen (though I will say that if anyone who reads this blog has seen it, it'll probably be Lauren Kilmartin [note: I was right. She owns it. I typed this before I knew for sure but decided to text her and ask just on the off chance that I was actually wrong about something and would have wanted to delete this parentheses if that had been the case. However, that is not the case, because as previously stated, I was right]). Some of the special gremlins can make their pictures come to life, like the Harry Potter portraits, except my right gremlins paint way better things to come to life than fat singing ladies like in HP. They paint awesome creatures on which they ride. And they have races, because though they're fun-loving creatures, they are highly competitive. Highly. And everyone knows that artists are temper-mental -- so when one of them loses, it isn't pretty. Not. At. All. That'll be when one of them goes rogue and paints a picture of some sort of panther/dragon/death machine beast that comes to life to wreak havoc and misery upon the poor soul that indirectly declared war by beating them in a competition.
Here is a picture of the world in The Labyrinth. There is probably a maze like that somewhere in my mind's right side world, but for the purpose of this illustration, erase all that crazy Labyrinth in the foreground there and replace it with lots of rolling meadows splattered with colorful paint, full of floating canvas's and playful, little, artsy gremlins trotting about along with their friendly creations ranging from furry creatures to flying contraptions and anything else exciting your mind can think of. I think there's a golden brick road in there, too. In the distance there is a deep jungle to where the rogue gremlins get banished to live out their days as battle-hardened, self-reliant, jungle maniacs with machetes and other dangerous weapons that they don't hesitate half a second before using on anything that moves. Those mountains in the background are there, too.
Now here's where it gets really chaotic. See, the Rights, they're the ones that crave adrenaline and love pranks and risks and pushing the envelope and think that rules only exist to be broken. And they know that nothing gets under the Lefts' skin like invading their space. They like to think they're really sneaky and as their own, personal challenge like to see how much they can get away with. So, they get all suited up in their camo (and of course this can only happen at nighttime, when they are best concealed by darkness) and approach the boundary between the left and right sides. The sides are separated by a raging river. On the right side of the river is crazy jungle, and on the left is a wall with a single, blue door. These are two worlds that were never meant to collide. See, it would be easy for the Lefts to invade the Rights, because you could enter their world anywhere at all, as they weren't organized enough to create one, single entrance like the Lefts did. But it doesn't matter, because the Lefts would never, ever, ever in a million years want to cross the river over into the Right's territory. It is WAY too chaotic and would give them a seizure before they even stepped foot across the river. The Rights, on the other hand, love to cause mischief and create as much trauma for the Lefts as possible. That is why they will occasionally swing across the river on their vines and sneak through that blue door, and once they're in, they know they don't have long before the Left's security is all over them, so they get in there and pull out as many records and knock over as many filing cabinets as they can. It's a game to them, you see. To see how much disorder they can cause before the Lefts get them out. Unfortunately, the Lefts contain such a repulsion towards disorder, that they can't focus on getting the Rights out of there because they are too busy scampering about, trying to put the files back in their rightful places. So, the Rights continue to spread disarray and the Lefts are just too compulsive to directly put a stop to their antics because they just have to clean up NOW. Remember how I talked about the system getting jammed when just a couple too many files get pulled at the same time? Can you possibly imagine what happens when hundreds are getting thrown about simultaneously? Close to a brain aneurysm is what happens. But before you know it, the Lefts are so exasperated that it doesn't take long before they engage in full-out war. Because the thing is, even though the Rights and Lefts have very, very, very different ways of going about things, they are equally stubborn, determined, and aggressive. These qualities make for a very long, very brutal war. Like, this type of battle puts Armageddon to shame.
And with Armageddon on steroids happening in your head, how can anyone sleep?
