I've always been creative and suffer from a severe attention deficiency! If it's severe enough to be an actual mental condition I have no idea, and I've never been examined.
And people simply develop certain ways of thinking either by being persuaded or deciding themselves. As our minds develop we begin to have certain ways of thinking that become deeply rooted as the more used neural pathways become stronger. Or at least that's what neuroscientists say.
Being born on march 27'th, left handed, and with a nice patch of gray because of a device attached to me when I was born, I've always wondered if my mental development is simply because of genetic and physical factors, or simply because I consciously thought in a certain way, and that thinking became strong enough to define my thought processes and personality. I don't really know what caused this but I wonder.
But the overwhelming fact is that my memory is terrible for my age, I have a very short attention span, and become childishly irritated when I'm forced to focus on a single task for too long. This made schooling very difficult for me, and it still is a problem for me to focus. I'm the opposite of an analytical thinker and I'm prone to delusions, which delusions are assumptions and ways of reasoning that others don't follow or share and are usually pretty outlandish. Yes, most of my thoughts are delusional...
I have no childhood memories that are prominent. We moved to many different houses, so I have no solid people or places in my memory. I daydreamed of cartoons and robots and played with toys and my brother until I was eight years old or so.
What started my creative process, was music videos. I loved music, which started with my first CD, Smash Mouth acually. I listened to it over and over. But music videos combined with book reading prompted me to daydream sequences timed to the music. My first little stories.
My first character was made of those fuzzy twist ties. I made a stickman, and wrapped more around him, like a scarf, boots and gloves. I decided to give him a name. I called him Jakk. Then I learned to draw. I saw my father doodle a face, and wanted to imitate him. I painstakingly drew with an ink pen. Trying over and over to get the right shapes. I don't know why, but I didn't give up.
So I drew Jakk. A nice black stick figure with a headband, spiked hair, scarf, claws and wings and a sword, and it started. I sent Jakk on adventures in my mind, music videos, day dreams, stories, everything. Then it evolved. Jakk soon looked like a person, with my own green brown 'swamp' eyes, bandana and full adventuring outfit. He looks kind of like the prince of persia character I suppose.
I made other characters with their own stories, so I started writing them down. Looking up tips to not make novice writing mistakes. They became bigger stories and I became better and remembering them and inventing new ideas. Soon it was not something I had to make an effort to do...they came to me regardless.
It became my only way of thinking. If I had too much energy, I was compelled to burn it off. Write something down, run out into the yard, something! Find some way of expressing these ideas, living them out or either showing someone else these beautiful worlds I had invented.
Then one day it occurred to me... I make characters, write stories...but who am I? At that point I was already quite disconnected with reality. No friends to speak of. I had only been bullied in school and never had lady luck, so I had nothing real to go on.
I reinvented myself.
Puberty hit by then. I was changing. Most people have problems with this...I was ready. Nothing surprised me because I already knew what was going to happen. Instead of trauma and self-worth issues, I simply embraced the change. I liked my new deep voice and I learned to use it well.
I used the ideas I had, all the cool things that could be done, and applied what delusional knowledge I had to myself.
I had a bowl cut with the un-used grey streak, but at least I didn't have any more baby fat. I was growing tall fast. My jaw stuck itself out and my cheekbones were huge now. My face got taller, so I cut my hair. Learned to style it, which was easy. I started talking differently, learning humor and gauging reactions.
I changed the way I looked, then how I acted. How I walk, talk, and dress. I stood up straight, kept my face even, like the models did. And I walked alone on purpose.
Soon, the girls were looking. They ask about my hair. The grey streak, everything. Random people ask me If I'm a model. I wish, I tell them. Others my age say It looks like I was a character sketch brought to life. That perfect thin look, the triangle jaw, the hair, my eyes.
I made this version of myself. People like me now. I have many hobbies and skills now, and help out people and generally be nice whenever I can. I did this just hoping some day someone would notice. That bettering myself would make someone, someday, happy. Be that a future spouse, family, or random strangers through my art or writing. If I couldn't be in that fictional place, I thought, I'll come as close as I possibly can.
Then some girl, some family member or fans, someone will see and appreciate the effort... I try and better myself, not because I'm any happier, (really I'm not) but because someday someone else will be happy for it.