[ay1n]

I've heard opinions along the lines of "thinking too much" countless of times, at first it was kind of depressing but later I've concluded that if you just like to think and analyze things in your mind (which is not so popular thing to do when you consider general population, sadly), people who voice such (negative, I'd say) comments didn't really think about this deeply. Over-analying can be a serious problem (consider some forms of OCD), but when you can somehow control it (but not constrain) it's ok to think as much as one like ;).

[drcomputer]

Yea, the repetitive analysis usually stems from using the same model of which to analyze the data by. It's insufficient. That helps me turn it off, listen to other people, go about my life, learn new ways of thinking, connecting, interacting, helping, participating, and then I continue to re-evaluate myself, existence, and my place in it. I still can't shake the depression, though. Unless the entire world existed in a state of neutrality or bliss, I don't think I could. It's just an echo of sadness, something I have to distance myself from internally and examine scientifically, which allows me to remove it's control over me, and instead direct myself in ways I can improve the world, but, /shrug. I'm not perfect and I'm never going to exist perfectly and life is never going to be perfect, if perfect even could exist.

[HCIdivision17]

If it helps, I find that analysis helps stave off depression. Having a focus for something to intellectually chew on helps me a lot. So while I've been accused of over-analysis, sometimes it's simply me printing what I had been mulling over while idling; if I ever stopped doing that, I'd drown in my own mind.

[drcomputer]

I sometimes find it hard to differentiate between analysis and drowning in my own mind. I seem to purposefully pick problems that have no answers, and if I feel myself getting close to an answer, I make a mess of it. It's either fear of learning that I have lost the ability to succeed, or fear of actually succeeding. I never thought anything in the world could break me that much. I thought I would die before that happened. But it's all useless to think about, on the other hand. I feel like I'm searching for an 'it', without knowing what 'it' is - without using the world's point of views, perspectives, or ideas to define the value of 'it'. I do not know what will happen when I find it, or whether I will ever find it. Maybe I already have it, and I just don't know it.