
Album
Beautifully Unfocused
Album · 12 tracks · December 2025 · by Mike Baker
For most of my life, I thought I needed to get better at having a different kind of brain.
A note on the medication parts: this is my own experience, not medical advice. Attention, diagnosis and treatment differ from person to person, and those decisions belong with a clinician who knows you.
The story
I needed to finish one thing before starting another. I needed to stop getting distracted, remember what someone told me thirty seconds ago, answer the text, send the email, make the appointment, and stop staying awake half the night because my brain suddenly decided 11:47 p.m. was the perfect time to solve a problem nobody had asked me to solve.
I got good at functioning. In some parts of my life, I got very good at it. That made the parts that felt harder even more confusing.
I could lead an organization, handle difficult problems, build new things, write books, make music, connect ideas quickly, and get completely consumed by work that mattered to me. Then I could sit in front of a simple task and feel strangely unable to begin. I knew what needed to happen. I cared about it. Sometimes I was already stressed because I had not done it. None of that necessarily meant I could make myself start.
For years, I did what a lot of people do. I treated the contradiction as a personal failing.
Lazy never fit. Unmotivated did not fit either. I worked too hard for either explanation to make much sense. Still, I knew there was something underneath the surface that I did not fully understand.
Beautifully Unfocused came from becoming more curious about my own brain and less interested in constantly correcting it.
The record is about living with a mind that rarely follows a straight line. Some of that is funny. Some of it is exhausting. There is executive dysfunction, emotional intensity, disappearing when I get overwhelmed, staying up too late because nighttime is the only quiet part of the day, and the complicated experience of finally finding medication that helped.
There is also creativity. Curiosity. Obsession with things that interest me. The ability to see connections that other people miss. A willingness to wander into an idea without knowing where it will lead.
Those things belong to the same brain.
That became one of the central realizations behind the album.
I had spent years paying close attention to the things my brain made harder while giving very little thought to what that same brain had helped me build. The missed messages mattered. The executive dysfunction mattered. The exhaustion mattered. So did the books, music, ideas, organizations, projects, relationships, and strange creative detours that became meaningful parts of my life.
I did not want to romanticize attention differences. The hard parts have consequences, especially for the people closest to me. Understanding why I disappear does not erase what it feels like to be on the other side of my silence. Understanding executive dysfunction does not finish the thing I was supposed to finish. Knowing why I spiral emotionally does not automatically repair whatever happened while I was overwhelmed.
Understanding gives me a better starting point. I still have to decide what I do with it.
That is part of why I finally decided to name this record so directly.
I was tired of writing around the experience.
Once I started understanding more about attention, executive function, emotional regulation, hyperfocus, and the way my own brain responds to stimulation, stress, boredom, and interest, vague language stopped being useful. Naming what was happening helped me recognize patterns that had been there for a long time.
I describe myself as having ADD. That is the language that fits how I understand my own experience, even though the clinical terminology has changed over the years and one of the songs on this album carries the title “ADHD Kid.” The album grew during that process of sorting through old language, newer understanding, childhood memories, and the adult life I had already built before I knew how to explain much of it.
The title Beautifully Unfocused came from finally being able to hold more than one truth about myself at the same time.
My brain frustrates me. It wears me out. It causes problems I still have to manage.
It has also given me a deeply creative life.
This album was my attempt to understand both without turning either side into the whole story.
If you only have a few minutes
Start here
01Too Many Tabs Open
The song gives mental overload an immediate, recognizable shape and opens the door for listeners unfamiliar with attention differences.
02Executive Dysfunction Is a Bitch
Knowing and doing separate inside one task, exposing the frustration and shame hidden beneath a common misunderstanding.
03Sorry I Disappeared Again
Attention, time, and guilt affect relationships as the record follows a missed response into a longer period of withdrawal.
04Chemical Clarity
The closer approaches treatment and focus as a personal experience marked by relief, adjustment, and questions about identity.
Tracks
- 01Track Zero: A Letter From My Brain
- 02Too Many Tabs Open
- 03Everything All At Once All The Time
- 04Executive Dysfunction Is a Bitch
- 05Sorry I Disappeared Again
- 06Feel → Spiral → Regret → Repeat
- 07Empty Isn’t Broken
- 08Late Night Is the Only Time I Exist
- 09Built in the Blur
- 10ADHD Kid
- 11This Brain Built Empires
- 12Chemical Clarity
Track by track
01Track Zero: A Letter From My Brain
The record begins with an idea I could not shake: what would my brain say if it got to write me a letter?
I had spent decades talking about what I wanted it to do differently. Pay attention. Slow down. Finish this. Remember that. Stop jumping to something new. Quit losing things. Please answer the damn message before three weeks go by.
At some point, I wondered what the conversation would sound like from the other side.
Maybe my brain had complaints too.
“A Letter From My Brain” became the opening conversation between the part of me that spent years demanding better performance and the brain that had been doing its best to operate under those demands the whole time.
There is frustration in the song, but there is affection too. I am not separate from this brain. Every good thing I have built came through it. Every difficult pattern I have struggled with came through it too.
The record starts there because the rest of the album is basically an attempt to understand that relationship.
02Too Many Tabs Open
This song might be the most immediate description of what it feels like inside my head on a busy day.
There are several thoughts moving at once. A conversation from earlier is still running somewhere in the background. I remember something I forgot yesterday. A new idea shows up and immediately feels important. Somebody sends a text. I start answering it, notice something else, open another window, and suddenly I am researching something completely unrelated to the thing I originally sat down to do.
Then I walk into a room and forget why I am there.
I laugh about it because sometimes it is genuinely funny. Living inside it every day is also tiring.
One of the things I wanted this song to capture was the difference between looking distracted and actually being overloaded. From the outside, it can look like my attention has gone somewhere else. Inside my head, the opposite is often happening. Too many things are competing for the same space.
Eventually something drops.
Sometimes it is an idea. Sometimes it is an appointment. Sometimes it is the text I absolutely intended to answer.
“Too Many Tabs Open” is about that internal traffic jam and the weird comedy of realizing every tab somehow feels important.
03Everything All At Once All The Time
“Everything All At Once All The Time” takes that same experience and moves deeper into the emotional side of it.
My brain has always had trouble doing anything halfway when I care about it. Ideas arrive with urgency. Problems feel immediate. Conversations keep replaying after everyone else has moved on. A new project can suddenly occupy a huge amount of mental space because my brain has decided that this particular thing matters right now.
Sometimes that intensity is incredibly useful. I can work for hours on something I care about and barely notice the time passing. I can see connections quickly and build momentum faster than I expected.
The problem is that the intensity does not always arrive when it would be convenient.
A small issue can become huge inside my head. A new idea can interrupt something more important. Too much input can make every decision feel harder because everything is competing for the same amount of attention.
The title came from trying to describe that experience as plainly as possible. My brain often does not move through the world one clean thought at a time. Several things arrive together, and they tend to arrive at full volume.
04Executive Dysfunction Is a Bitch
I still like this title because there is no elegant way to describe some days.
Executive dysfunction is one of the hardest parts of attention problems to explain if you have never experienced it. You know what you need to do. You understand why it matters. You might even want to do it.
Then nothing happens.
That disconnect was deeply confusing to me before I understood there was language for it. It was easier to assume I was being lazy, avoiding responsibility, or lacking discipline, even when the rest of my life made those explanations look ridiculous.
I have handled complicated problems involving people, money, strategy, healthcare, leadership, and crisis. I have also stared at a small administrative task for an absurd amount of time because my brain would not engage with it.
Those two things can exist in the same person.
That is the point of the song.
I did not want to make executive dysfunction sound profound. Some days it is frustrating, inconvenient, embarrassing, and expensive. Sometimes the most accurate description is right there in the title.
05Sorry I Disappeared Again
This is one of the songs that became more personal the longer I sat with it.
When I get overwhelmed, I sometimes disappear.
I do not mean physically. I go quiet. Messages sit unanswered. I stop reaching out. Something that should take thirty seconds starts feeling strangely heavy because too much time has already passed, and now I feel like I owe an explanation along with the response.
So I wait longer.
Then the silence gets harder to explain.
I used to think of this mainly as needing space. Sometimes that was true. Other times I had spent too long trying to stay present, capable, responsive, and available to everyone around me. Eventually I ran out of energy and withdrew.
Understanding the pattern helped me make sense of my own behavior, but it also made me think more seriously about what the pattern feels like to other people.
They do not experience my internal overload. They experience my absence.
That distinction matters.
“Sorry I Disappeared Again” is an apology without an excuse attached to it. I wanted the song to admit that there are reasons behind the behavior while still recognizing that the people around me have their own experience of it.
06Feel → Spiral → Regret → Repeat
Emotion has always had a way of getting big quickly inside my head.
Something happens. I feel it hard. Then my brain starts working on it, which is not always helpful. I replay what was said, think about what it might have meant, imagine other explanations, reject those explanations, revisit the conversation, get more frustrated, and eventually realize I have traveled a long way from the thing that actually happened.
Then I come back down.
That is where regret sometimes enters.
The title describes the pattern because that is what it feels like when I am caught inside it. One thing leads quickly into another before I recognize how far I have gone.
This song is not about giving myself permission to react badly. Understanding emotional intensity has made me more accountable because I recognize the pattern sooner than I used to. I know what is happening when the volume starts climbing.
I still do not catch it every time.
The song lives inside that unfinished work.
07Empty Isn’t Broken
I have spent a lot of my adult life producing something.
There is always another idea, another problem, another project, another piece of work that could move forward. I am used to measuring a good day partly by what I got done.
That becomes a problem when my brain runs out of fuel.
After a period of heavy output or hyperfocus, I sometimes hit a point where there is simply nothing there. The ideas stop. Motivation drops. Everything feels slower.
For years, I interpreted that as something being wrong with me.
“Empty Isn’t Broken” came from realizing that I was treating exhaustion like failure.
Sometimes the brain that has been running hard needs to stop.
I still have trouble accepting that. Rest does not come naturally when there is something unfinished nearby, and there is always something unfinished nearby.
This song became a reminder that a quiet day does not erase everything I know how to do. Creativity does not disappear because I do not have access to it every minute. Sometimes the most useful thing I can do is leave the brain alone long enough for it to come back.
08Late Night Is the Only Time I Exist
Nighttime has always felt different to me.
The messages slow down. The calendar is finished. Nobody is waiting for an answer. There are fewer interruptions and fewer decisions being thrown at me from every direction.
Somewhere in that quiet, my brain wakes up.
I have done a lot of writing, thinking, planning, building, and wandering late at night. Some of my best ideas have shown up during hours when a responsible adult should clearly have been asleep.
That creates an obvious problem.
The next morning still arrives.
“Late Night Is the Only Time I Exist” is about the attraction of those hours and the price I pay for them. There is something deeply satisfying about finally having enough quiet to follow a thought wherever it goes. There is also nothing glamorous about being exhausted the next day because I convinced myself that midnight was a reasonable time to begin something new.
I have tried to become smarter about it.
My brain remains unconvinced.
09Built in the Blur
This is where the album begins to turn.
Up to this point, a lot of the record looks at what living with this brain costs. I wanted to acknowledge that without building an entire album around everything I struggle with.
Eventually I started thinking about the things I had built while all of this was happening.
My life has almost never felt perfectly organized from the inside. I tend to have several interests going at once. Ideas overlap. Projects change shape while I am working on them. Something that looks like a distraction at first sometimes becomes meaningful months later because it connected to something I had not seen yet.
There is a temptation to make your own story look cleaner after the fact. We connect the dots and act as if there was a plan.
A lot of the time, there was no plan.
I was moving. I was learning. I was following things that interested me and trying to make something useful out of whatever I found.
“Built in the Blur” is about giving that process some credit.
The path was messy. Plenty of worthwhile things came from it anyway.
10ADHD Kid
This song goes back to childhood.
I use ADD to describe myself now, but “ADHD Kid” came from thinking about the language, labels, assumptions, and expectations that surround kids whose brains do not behave the way adults expect them to.
Before you understand anything about attention or executive function, you learn what other people think your behavior means.
Pay attention. Sit still. Stop talking. Finish your work. Quit daydreaming. Try harder.
A kid does not hear those messages as neurological observations. Eventually they start sounding like descriptions of who you are.
That sticks.
This song is me looking backward with information I did not have when I was younger. I understand things now that would have changed the way I interpreted myself then.
I cannot go back and explain any of it to that kid.
I do get to decide how much of those old conclusions I continue carrying.
That was the heart of this track.
11This Brain Built Empires
By the time I reached this song, I had spent enough of the album looking at the hard parts.
I needed to ask another question.
What has this brain given me?
The answer was a lot.
I have built organizations, created programs, written books, made music, chased strange ideas, learned things simply because I became obsessed with them, and turned more than a few side interests into meaningful parts of my life.
None of that cancels out the difficult parts.
It does change the story I tell myself.
For a long time, I looked at my brain mainly through the things it failed to do consistently. I noticed the forgotten task, the unfinished project, the lost train of thought, the unanswered text, and the moments when focus would not cooperate.
I gave far less attention to the enormous amount of creation that came from the exact same place.
“This Brain Built Empires” is me finally giving that side of the story some room.
I do not think attention differences automatically make anyone more gifted or creative. I am not interested in turning this into another motivational slogan about superpowers.
I know my own life.
Curiosity, intensity, hyperfocus, unconventional thinking, and the need to keep exploring have shaped a huge amount of what I have built.
I am allowed to be proud of that.
12Chemical Clarity
The album ends with medication because medication changed the way I understood the whole experience.
There is something strange about spending decades believing certain tasks are simply difficult for you, then experiencing what happens when your brain gets the right kind of help.
The change was not magical. I did not become a different person. I was still me.
Some things became quieter.
Starting became easier. Directing my attention took less effort. Certain tasks stopped requiring the amount of internal negotiation I had gotten used to.
That experience brought relief, but it also raised questions I could not ignore.
How much energy had I spent compensating? How much effort had gone into appearing more organized than I felt? How many old judgments about myself were based on things I did not understand yet?
I do not know how different my life would have looked if I had understood all of this earlier, and I am not sure there is much value in trying to rewrite the past.
What mattered was finally seeing the present more clearly.
“Chemical Clarity” is not advice about medication. It is one part of my own story. Treatment is personal, and people deserve to make those decisions with professionals who understand them and their health.
For me, it provided another piece of information about myself.
I had spent a long time treating parts of my brain like moral failures.
They never were.
They were patterns I needed to understand, manage, work with, and sometimes ask for help with.
That feels like the real ending of Beautifully Unfocused.
I did not finish the album with a perfectly organized brain. I finished it understanding my own a little better.
That has turned out to matter a lot.
Where it leads
Beautifully Unfocused made an internal voice audible. Twenty-five days later, Live From My Head placed that voice inside an imagined concert, using jokes, stories, crowd energy, and studio construction to create the show Mike had already heard in his mind.

Companion work
Beautifully Unfocused — the book
I wrote this album alongside the book, out of the same material.
Read about the book →