cold-speed

[cold-speed]

Unlocking the Mind's Mystery: Deciphering the Complexity of Verbal Cognition and Conceptual Thinking

Ever had random shower thoughts and wanted to write them somewhere but never got around to it? Thanks to ChatGPT I was able to capture my stream of consciousness about the way the mind thinks into what you’re about to read. Enjoy!

In the realm of cognitive processes, individuals often exhibit different modes of thinking that can significantly impact their mental experiences. Recent considerations have shed light on the two distinct forms of thinking: verbal cognition and conceptual thinking. These terms aim to encapsulate the diverse ways in which individuals engage with their thoughts and ideas.

Verbal cognition, also known as "linguistic thinking," involves the internal use of verbal or written language to shape and express thoughts. Individuals who employ verbal cognition often experience an inner voice or monologue that articulates ideas in a structured and deliberate manner. This mode of thinking relies on language as a medium for formulating and organising thoughts, making it conducive to self-reflection and problem-solving.

In contrast, conceptual thinking, also termed "nonverbal cognition," operates beyond the confines of explicit linguistic representation. Thinkers engaging in conceptual thinking experience a more fluid and intuitive stream of consciousness, bypassing the need for language-based articulation. This mode of thinking allows for rapid idea generation and creative associations, as thoughts flow freely without linguistic constraints.

Understanding the dynamics between verbal cognition and conceptual thinking contributes to our comprehension of the complexity and diversity of human cognition. By recognising and appreciating these distinct thinking processes, psychologists gain valuable insights into individual thought patterns, problem-solving approaches, and the impact of internal dialogue on cognitive functioning. Further exploration of these modes of thinking promises to enhance our understanding of the human mind and its intricate workings.

[cold-speed]

14. Girl at the Train Station

I'm back! It's been nearly a decade but I've found my wings and have so many cool ideas for new stories and reworking old stories so they read better. Look forward to it!

Girl at the Train Station

It happened over 30 years ago, but I still remember that day as if it were just yesterday. I was on my way back home for the holidays on a train that made a stop at a quaint little station in the middle of nowhere. The station was nestled in the hills, and it seemed like there were only a handful of people getting on or off the train.

As we pulled into the station, I stuck my head out of the window just for the heck of it, to get a better view of my surroundings. And that's when I saw her. She was walking down the platform, selling food and beverages to the travellers. She was a young girl, maybe in her early or late teens, and she was clearly not from a wealthy background. Her clothes were tattered, and her feet were callused and bare.

But despite her circumstances, there was something about her that caught my attention. She had an air of quiet strength and resilience that belied her situation. As she got closer, I realised that she was selling peanuts. I asked her for a bag and paid her for it, but as she turned to walk away, something made me stop her.

"Excuse me," I said, "would you mind if I took a photo of you?"

She looked surprised at first, but then she smiled and nodded her head. I fumbled with my phone for a moment, trying to get the camera ready, and then I took the photo.

As I looked at the picture, I realised just how beautiful she was. Her eyes were dark and deep, and her smile was both breathtaking and innocent. It was a combination that I had never seen before, and it left me feeling slightly off balance.

We didn't exchange many words, but as she walked away, I couldn't help but wonder about her. What was her story? Where was she going? And what had brought her to this place, selling peanuts at a train station in the middle of nowhere?

Over the years, I've traveled on that stretch of railway many times, always hoping to see her again. I've stuck my head out of the window, searching for a glimpse of her face, but she never appeared. And yet, the memory of her lingers in my mind, like a ghost from the past.

Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I had talked to her more, if I had asked her about her life and her dreams. But then again, maybe it's better that I didn't. Maybe it's better to remember her as she was in that moment, a beautiful and innocent girl, selling peanuts at a train station in a remote place.

[cold-speed]

13. Water Closet

This is purely a work of fiction. However, any resemblance to real persons or events is purely intentional.

(Author’s note: "Water closet”, or “WC”, is the other term for restrooms.)

     Here is a rather uneventful story about what happened to me one uneventful day.  

     Tick. Tock. 

     There was I, lazily looking at my wristwatch as I stood outside the fairly recently constructed shopping arcade, waiting for Her. I hadn’t been waiting for very long… it had only been around, hmm, twenty? ...minutes.

     Tick. Tock. 

     I looked to my left. People. I looked to my right. More people. I turned my gaze back to the noisy crowed street in front of me, with the noisy vehicles and the noisy people. 

     Tick. Tock. 

     I massaged the back of my neck, unconsciously smoothening down a few strands of hair that were defiantly poking out. I’d felt the need to visit the water closet for a while now, but I’d put it off all this while in the hope that She’d be here any moment. Now, however, it was starting to reach a point where I wouldn’t be able to stand without crossing my legs and squirming about. 

     Tick. Tock.

     Maybe it was finally time to respond to Nature’s Call. I entered the shopping arcade, looking around for the sign which should read “WC” in big bold letters. 

     And there it was, just outside a dodgy looking corridor. I made a beeline for the sign. I was led down a dimly lit, grubby hallway,  and then right, past a couple of trash bins, down another grubby hallway.  

     At the end of the corridor, blocking the men’s room, was a couple. As I sidestepped them, I overheard the chap saying something about how painful it was to be apart from his dear honey, and then the chap proceeded to reassure his dear honey that he wouldn’t take too long. 

     Ah, this was how a true couple ought to be. Always together, always in the company of each other. None but the cruel tricks of fate and the social rules that demanded separate restrooms for men and women could tear them apart. 

     At that moment, Her image flashed in my head and it made me start. I hastily opened the door and went in. 

     First impressions, pretty good. Sanitation, pretty okay. Bit crowded though. The fragrance could use a little work. But that wasn’t important. I was here on business, and business was my first priority. 

     It’s a widely accepted fact that choosing which urinal to carry out operations in is a split second decision. Get it wrong, and you’ll pay for it. I usually prefer the ones at the extreme end since they’re not all that often used (ordinarily you'd have to walk the farthest to reach them) and so they’re marginally cleaner. 

     Here, in this restroom, I had a wide range of options to choose from, but most of them were occupied at the moment. The corner stalls, however, were empty. So I headed straight for one of them. 

     Splash!

     Oops. I'd walked straight into a dark, discoloured puddle - I'd never seen it coming (the floor tiles were black). That particular urinal had been clogged with mothballs and chewing gum and tissue paper and other rubbish and everything had overflowed, it seemed. 

     Tch. And this was supposed to be a new building. 

     I moved to the immediate next one. This one was mercifully in operating condition.

     Seconds later, with stained hands, I zipped my trouser jeans and moved away from the urinals, towards the washbasins. 

     There were three sinks together before which people were queuing up (remember, it was still crowded), and another one, separate from the others, a bit further away. There was no queue at the solitary sink - in fact - it wasn’t being used at all. 

     Haha, suckers! thought I, as I triumphantly walked past the queues of fellows jostling to wash their hands and style their hair. I pushed the grimy knob back and held out my hands. But nothing came out of the tap.

     So that’s why there wasn’t anyone here! And I had only succeeded in getting the dirt of goodness knows how many others’ hands on my own. I slapped my forehead in disgust - and then grimaced, because I’d slapped my forehead with the wrong hand.

     Tail between legs, I slowly retraced my steps back to the other washbowls, chose one at random, and stood in queue. I could only hope that She still hadn’t reached.

     After an eternity of being squished between, and pushed around by smelly, raucous guys, I finally got my turn. The sinks here were sensor activated. Thankfully. 

     I extracted some liquid soap from the dispenser by the sink and washed my hands and forehead, trying to ignore the stares of the chap next to me who seemed to be picking his nose.

     Having finished, I stepped out of the way and moved towards the exit, putting my wet hands in my pockets, and then removing them soon after (because I needed them to open the door). I made my way up the grubby corridor, and then left, past the trashcans, and then up the other grubby corridor, and then proceeded to the exit, where I was supposed to meet Her.

     “Where have you been?!” was the reprimand which greeted me. It was Her. “I’ve been waiting here for ages!"

     “Sorry dear, I was stuck in traffic.” I decided not to tell her I’d been waiting here for Her for the last forty minutes. In a way, though, I was telling the truth. Sort of.

[cold-speed]

An apple a day may keep the doctor away, but a short story a day keeps the illiteracy away.

Wisdom of ColdSpeed

[cold-speed]

12. REv3rsal

REv3rsal is actually an independent concept that I adopted for the Holiday Horror series, and can be treated as an alternate ending for the same. It was originally meant to be a stand alone piece (and it still is) but I've incorporated the characters and background of Holiday Horrors, mostly because it makes things a lot easier for me as a writer (and more so because I didn't like how I had ended the original series). REv3rsal is pretty much a pointless story (much like any other spinoff of a series). So you don't necessarily have to have read the original series to understand what's going on here. But it would be helpful and a lot more meaningful to you if you did. In any case, it should be a nice read.

*Coming up shortly*

[cold-speed]

11. Why God is a Plant

          The following conversation unfolds after two college-going friends decide to meet up during the lunch hour to idly chit-chat and discuss various aspects of college life, until, by some coincidence, the topic of vegetarianism is broached upon. Now, it just so happens that one of the guys is a meat eater, and the other, a vegetarian.          An inevitable clash of ideals occurs.

Non-vegetarian: So, tell me... why don't you eat meat? Vegetarian: Dunno really… I don't believe in harming animals.

NV: If you don't believe in harming animals, then why do you insist on eating their food? (The vegetarian shoves a spoonful of veg rice into his mouth and thinks for a while.) V: Well, there's plenty of vegetarian food to go round, you know.

NV: There's plenty of animals, too. V: But you guys don't eat all animals, do you?

NV: I don't see you getting down on your knees and chewing out the lawn, do I? Your argument is invalid. (The vegetarian thinks a bit longer this time.) V: I have compassion for animals!

NV: So, you don't have compassion for plants, is that right? You heartless cad. V: But plants don't have feelings!

NV: Who said? Give me an iota of proof that says they don't. V: Dude! I mean they just let you kill them and eat them.

NV: Hmm... so, basically, what you're saying is this: There are two guys standing before me. When I kill the first guy, he doesn't resist. He lets me kill him. But when I try killing the second guy, he gets down on his knees and begs for forgiveness. Does the fact that the first guy didn't resist justify me killing him? V: Yeah, why not?

NV: Do you want to be put in a asylum? V: Ugh, change the topic, please.

NV: Alright, if you insist. Do you believe in god? V: Err, nope.

NV: Then why in hell are you vegetarian?! If you'd cited religious ideals, that would've stopped this conversation dead in the first paragraph itself! (NV starts laughing.) Admit it, Mr V. You're vegetarian because your parents are vegetarians. (V nods embarrassedly, and shovels another spoonful of veg rice into his mouth.) V: Maybe. But they're veg because of their ancestors.

NV: Do you mean to say that your ancestors, dating back to the very top of your family tree, were all vegetarians? Adam and Eve, so to speak, were vegetarians? V: Now you're just putting words in my mouth.

NV: Hey! I'm only deducing logical conclusions based on your illogical statements. Somewhere along the line, you would've had to have some ancestors who were meat eaters, so why aren't you? V: Argh! Change the topic!

NV: Alright man, if you feel so strongly about the whole thing. Now, let's see… do you know how the universe came into being? V: Yeah, of course! It was microbes!

NV: What the…? THE UNIVERSE DUDE, THE UNIVERSE. V: Chemical reactions, if I'm not mistaken.

(NV slaps his forehead and groans.) NV: How did life on earth start? Can you answer that, at least? C'mon, you're a biology student! V: Hmm... algae, I believe.

NV: AHA! So it was a plant! Now, by being a vegetarian, you are effectively disrespecting your ancestor, the algae - the first life form on Earth - a plant. V: But it was a different type of plant!

(NV face palms himself again.) NV: Different from what?! Everything you see around you evolved from that one little single-celled plant! V: So you're saying animals are plants too? NV: WHAT THE HELL?! (NV starts bawling with laughter and attracts a lot of attention, making V feel uncomfortable.) V: Control yourself dude. (V starts to grin too.)

NV (still chuckling): You just used mathematical induction and falsely proved that everything is a plant! I'm a plant! You're a plant! Look at that stray dog there. It's a plant! Hell, let's go a step further! God's a plant too! (NV starts laughing again.) Ooh… my sides… V: Okay, okay. God's a plant. Now look at the time! Gotta run! See ya!

         Whereupon V runs off to avoid being late (and more importantly, to avoid looking more and more like a complete and utter moron). From that moment on, NV decides to write a story about the entire conversation that had just taken place with Mr. V.          Yes. This is a true story.

[cold-speed]

10. Burning Midnight Oil

Okay, this is a pretty odd story. You’ll understand once you've read it. It’s on the shorter side - ~1600 words. 

Anyway, please give me your feedback if you want. Thank ye.

          It was well past midnight now, and the monsoonal thunderstorm was raging. Rain was pelting down, making one heck of a racket outside. There was the occasional flash of lightning, followed by the booming of thunder, as if punctuation for the incessant downpour.

         I was at home, doing a Mathematics assignment that was due the following day. I’d been at this for the last… hmm, how many? …hours, solving problems on McLaurin’s Series Expansions which I had to submit by tomorrow at all costs, come hell or high water (it seemed an appropriate figure of speech under these circumstances).

         Looks like it was just going to be me at home for tonight. Mum was out… she at some mixer, or some such thing. Probably. I wouldn’t be expecting her back until late in the morning. Sure, it was lonely. But mum needed her space. Besides, the atmosphere suited me just fine, so I didn’t mind. The peace actually helped me work faster.

         There was a bright flash, followed by a deafening clap almost immediately after. Well, it seemed as if the storm wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.

         The whole house was enveloped in darkness. Even in my room, it was only my desk lamp which was on, all the other lights were off. Conditions have to be just right when you’re doing Maths. If you were studying to acquire an engineering degree, you too could relate.

         Another bright flash, another boom. Hold on… had I just heard a knock on the window?

         I looked up. Directly in front of me was the bedroom window. On a clear day, One could see for miles by virtue of the fact that our apartment was on the eighth floor. Presently, though, it was pitch black outside.

         Hmph, must’ve been the wind. I shook my head and resumed work. I had at least a good two hours of midnight oil to burn until I was finally done with this pointless exercise.

         Scratch, scratch, scratch, went the pen against the paper.

         There was another momentary flash. The orchestra of the thunderstorm did a number as the world outside lit up, and as it did, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

         Startled, I looked up. The outside was once again in darkness, and nothing was visible now. However, a moment ago… I could’ve sworn I’d seen…

         No… it was only shadows I was jumping at. Probably just my overly tired brain hallucinating. Yeah… assignments had that habit of taking a toll on you.

         I took a deep breath. As I flipped back the pages of my assignment booklet, I counted the number of sides I’d written on. It always gave me a sense of satisfaction, counting the number of pages I’d finished writing.

         Another flash! Another boom! This time, there was a loud bang, distinct from the thunder, and it had, without a doubt, been the sound of something banging against the window. It nearly made me jump out of my skin. That was the last thing you’d expect to hear, living on the eighth floor.

         Alright, that’s it. It was time to get to the bottom of this. I got up, kicked my chair back, and stormed to the window. I stopped when I was right in front of it, and I stared into the Blank, waiting for God’s wonderful light to illuminate the world in bright darkness.

         Within a second, there was another flash, and in that split second… I saw…

         Absolutely nothing. Just plain nothing. There was nothing outside. I thought of opening the window, but then I realised I had no intention of getting wet.

         I collapsed on my bed, yawning widely. What an odd night. Oh well, I was quite close to being done. I had to take care not to fall asleep on the bed… it would be the worst thing to fall asleep now, just when I was so close… just when I could see the end… the… end…

         I was jerked to wakefulness by the sound of my phone vibrating noisily on the table. Someone calling? Who’d be calling at this hour?

         I picked up the phone, but I didn’t pick up the call… I just stared and stared at it until it went dead. Even after that, I stared at it, frozen… unable to move…

         I couldn’t believe it… the caller ID… the caller… the person who was calling me… how…? Why…?

         Why now…? Why now, dad?

         I covered my face with my hands, but I couldn’t choke back the tears… Why? Why did it have to be now? Just when mom and I… just when we’d come to terms with your accident… and the fact that we’d never see you again…

         Two years ago (around this time of the year), my dad had died in an accident. That period had been a hard time for us as a family, financially, and he’d been working overtime, trying to make ends meet. One night, he’d been driving back home, late at night, in pretty bad weather, much like how it was now. A truck plying in the opposite direction had lost control of its brakes and had crashed, head on, right into dad’s car. They say he’d died on the spot.

         The police’d come knocking on our door that very same night. “Deeply regret to inform you…” and that had brought our world crashing down on us, leaving us shattered as a family. It’d hit mom pretty hard, but not as hard as it’d hit me. I’d gone into depression, and it was only with a lot of psychiatric help and medication that I’d recovered.

         We’d deactivated his mobile number some months ago because we’d figured, well, that he wouldn’t need it anymore. SO WHY WAS I GETTING A CALL FROM A NUMBER THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO EXIST?

         …Hold on, had the service providers really deactivated his number? Despair turned to puzzlement, which turned to rage. This had to be somebody’s sick idea of a joke. There could be no other explanation for the missed call I’d just received. The world was full of people capable of such perversion.

         The phone started ringing again… it was the same caller ID. Damn, did it make me furious… Hands shaking with anger, I contemplated what to do next.

         Answer? Decline? I pressed answer, and with gritted teeth, I held the receiver up to my ear. But all I heard at the other end was the tone of the call being dropped…

         All of a sudden, the desk lamp crackled and fizzed out, enveloping the room in darkness. The window shattered into a million pieces, and in came a torrent of rain and wind, blowing every lose sheet of paper hither-tither. I covered my eyes from the flying shards.

         The wind was howling inside, rain was flooding in. My room was in a huge mess. Everything was dark. Inside, and outside.

         Unable to comprehend what was happening, I just stood in the middle of the room, only conscious of my phone which was now ringing again.

         As if in a dream, I picked up the call and held the phone to my ear. “H-Hello…?” I said, with a shaky voice.

         I could hear the sound of heavy, laboured breathing on the other end.

         “Hello…?” The breathing became raspy and faster. Quite frankly, I was too freaked out to do anything.

         And then, I finally heard a voice at the other end, “I… am… here…” It was a deep voice… it sounded so much like my father, only a lot more… different.

         There was a flash of lightning. I was suddenly aware of the presence of something else in my room, standing right in front of me, just in front of the broken window.

         And now, everything was in darkness once more. Even before I could do anything, a shadowy figure moved towards me and grabbed my by the neck, and it started to lift me. I couldn’t feel the ground.

         “Wait, stop!” I choked out, thrashing my legs, trying to free myself. With inhuman strength, the dark figure lifted me clear off the ground like I was a toothpick weight, and hurled me straight out of the broken window.

         But it didn’t feel like I was falling to my death. I didn’t feel the ground when I hit it. I never felt my bones break. I couldn’t feel anything, because I was already dead…

         That’s when it all came back to me. All of my memories… the truth about my life, and my death…

         Two years ago… yes, two years ago on this very same night, my father and I… we were coming back home after a long day out. We’d gotten in an accident, and had both been killed. Dad had moved on… I hadn’t. And now, he had come back for me…

         And so, what it felt like… as I fell to my second death… it wasn’t the feeling of death. It was the feeling a little lost child would have after his daddy had rescued him and taken him home.          Yes… it was the feeling of a new beginning.

[cold-speed]

Day One - Aurora (Dubstep remix)

[cold-speed]

Gorillaz - Empire Ants

[cold-speed]

Eric Prydz w/ Candii Station - You Got The Love

[cold-speed]

Eric Prydz - 2Night (Original Mix)

[cold-speed]

Moody Blues - Nights in White Satin