A Room of Pseudo-Venetian Tack

Every so often, I like to take stock of what is in my head. My thoughts, opinions and ideas about the way the world works, let us say. I think of my head as a room full of objects (for some reason, these seem to me as those glass ball type mantlepiece decorations, with all the bubbles and ribbons of pigment in them).

I like to pick each one up, rotating it and gazing at it from every angle and evaluate: What does this mean? How did it come to be here, in my head? How did it come to be in this part of my head? Is it good? Is it useful? Is it entertaining? And if I find that the idea is not good (perhaps I came up with it while destructively depressed, maybe someone else put it there, perhaps I was just wrong at the time) then I throw it out the window.

Thus my head becomes progressively emptier.