While I have a document on my Google Drive that describes what I've discovered about my cognitive processes in greater detail, I'm afraid the forum rules don't allow me to post links until I've made five posts... so I'll put it all in a spoiler box.
"I know concepts better than anyone else I know of. My mind thinks of concepts first and foremost, and despite being without any intrinsic sensory relation, they're the easiest for me to understand; words, on the other hand, are much harder for me to deal with, since they don't even form in my mind until several steps later. After the concept itself comes the abstract visuals and awesome synthesizer solos (though sometimes, it's an electric guitar, or symphonic orchestral music), followed by the scenic archetypal visualization, then the recollection of contexts, and when the words finally come along, there's a bunch of them that I have to wade through before picking out the right one. Whenever words are presented to me, the whole process goes in reverse.
The fact that I'm so good with concepts is the reason for which I was able to overcome the obstacle presented by Gödel's incompleteness theorems in designing an objective, secular moral theory that actually *works,* long before I had ever heard of Gödel's incompleteness theorems.
(On the other hand, the fact that I'm so bad with words is why I'm always editing my posts here and elsewhere several times over, because I've spotted semantic errors in the original posts; it's also why I have a thesaurus addiction, since I've had to use them so often in trying to find the right words for my concepts. Don't even get me started on my verbal dyspraxia and problems processing spoken words, due to the delays I go through while I'm busy rocking out to the awesome music.)"
1. Back in a darker time of my life, when I denied myself any emotions and I saw no point in continuing to live (though I was too weak to even kill myself), the music in my head was pretty awful. It was extremely disjointed, as though a pure novice was playing the instruments, and not caring in the slightest that the noise they produced was insufferable. Often, there would even be a repetition of a certain random sequences of notes, as though it was being played back on a broken record. Now, though, the music isn't merely tolerable, but actually pretty good, as stated in the original post.
2. When I can type my words out beforehand, this makes it unnecessary to try to form the words as I'm speaking, thus allowing me to talk at a faster rate. When I get the chance to do this, however, I've noticed that my speech pattern goes from "verbal dyspraxia" to a speech pattern reminiscent of that of William Shatner. I don't even consciously try to do this; it just... happens. As I've just demonstrated this in the previous sentence, I'll even be compelled to simulate this speech pattern in text, to show emphasis on certain words.
The following is from an expansion on the discussions in the above post, modified to correct grammatical errors:
"Another aspect of what I've already described about my thought process, something I've already known (but which wasn't relevant at the time), is that, while all of this stuff is happening in my process of translating from concepts to words and back, each step has the process branch out into related concepts, which are all going through their own processes at the same time. Since I'm about to use some computer technology metaphors, I'll go ahead and say that my head has a tendency to overheat, like an overclocked CPU during a resource-intensive process.
With this in mind, another thing I've realized about my thought process is that my subconscious mind is kind of like a multi-threaded processor, with multiple trains of thought being processed at the same time. Unfortunately, my conscious mind, like a user interface, has a limited capacity to "display" these processes, meaning that I'm only consciously aware of around 1-3 processes at a time. Whatever subconscious processes don't "display" in my conscious mind still happen, and if something significant happens in such processes, my conscious mind will get an "alert" of some kind (it's really hard for me to describe, since my mind primarily works with concepts that have no sensory-related "appearance").
It gets confusing sometimes, when a subconscious process completes itself in the background, and my conscious mind gets some "output," basically giving me the process's conclusion when I have no idea of how I arrived at it, because my conscious mind was focused on something else. When I have more time to think (such as online, text-based conversations), I can actually try to go through the subconscious processes again, but with my conscious mind "displaying" the process in question so that I can see the process being performed, possibly catching and correcting mistakes that were made during the first time the process occurred. However, if I'm talking in-person, not only do I have the verbal dyspraxia to deal with, but I also can't take the time to re-run the process, thus leaving in any errors that might have resulted in a false output.
Speaking of conversations: occasionally, the "switch" has happened in the middle of in-person conversations, and while my conscious mind was exploring other trains of thought, a subconscious process would then take over, and I would still able to maintain my part of the conversation, and even make decisions! Of course, switching the conscious "display" back to the conversation makes me suddenly realize that I don't know what I was just saying or doing; one such event that was even more amazing than it was embarrassing, was when this happened while I was playing the role of "game master" in a pen and paper RPG. Anyone who plays such games will know how important that role is, and how much thought goes into that role. In spite of this, the players didn't even notice anything different in what I was doing until I switched back, and suddenly stopped talking because I was trying to figure out what I was doing, just moments before! I don't know if I should be amazed, or terrified...
Either way, a lot of this new self-discovery seems to be triggered when I'm paying attention to 2 or 3 processes. This allows them to synergize and lead to realizations that wouldn't be made without combining the processes in some way. Oddly enough, everything in this post is one of the resulting realizations from synergy, when I still had the "branching out" fresh in my mind, and I got to thinking about the gaps in my memories of my own thought processes."
Now, to the point... I was just barely able to pass a Java programming course over the summer semester, and while my grades on the assignments I've passed in were pretty good, I was unable to get many assignments passed in, because I was unable to understand how to work with the finicky syntax structure and general use of code in Java, which, as I'm sure the people here are well aware of, is something I'll be dealing with in most programming languages. I've tried learning how to program for years, now, and in addition to barely being able to work with the code while I'm working on it, I can barely remember what I had learned as soon as I stop working on it. Given what's in the spoiler block, I'm terrible at understanding things when I'm working with languages; it's hard enough dealing with other humans, with whom I can try to improvise and try to explain things in alternative ways. Dealing with computers is much harder, since I seemingly can't improvise at all. Then, I'd figure something out via an unmonitored subconscious process, but I wouldn't know how I even came to that conclusion, and it just got harder as my only leads for what to do end up leading nowhere, since I really just didn't know what I was doing. I didn't even know what to look up; for example, on my final project, which I was never able to finish (and barely able to start), I had to try calling methods from one class to another. I could find general instructions on how to do so, and I could find examples of code, but I couldn't find both in the same place. I had no idea which examples of code were supposed to do what, and I spent over a week just trying to find that.
So, what I'm wondering is if there's some esoteric programming language out there that would be easier for me to understand. Given that my mind works best with concepts that have no related sensory information, a programming language that works in a way my mind works is probably too much to ask for, but if I could find a programming language that's closer to that step of the process - say, a language that mostly works with archetypes, like those from Jungian psychology - I might be able to work with that. Such a language is probably going to be esoteric... I'm not sure how well I can learn how to program in a more common language with the experience there, but it would be a start.