Occasionally I will see somebody post something – on LJ, Usenet, Monochrome, wherever – and think ‘ah, I have something useful to say in response to that’. So I'll start writing a response, and part way through writing it I will realise that it's coming out as complete drivel: what seemed like sensible and relevant points when they sprang into my mind on reading the post in fact look rather less relevant, or less coherent, or both, when I write them down. So I decide I can't make a useful contribution after all, abandon my half-written reply, and go on my way.

That's all fair enough. But often what happens is that I later have another look at the original post, and in spite of my previous failed attempt to post a response, I find myself thinking ‘no, look, that stuff I wanted to post really is useful and relevant and I should post it’. So I try again, and the same thing happens. And then, the next time the original post crosses my line of sight, I go through the same cycle again.

That annoys me. Why can't the two parts of my brain talk to each other, reach some sort of synthesis, and stop alternately bombarding my top-level consciousness with their conflicting opinions? Gaah.