Bounty vs Limits

It's a fallacy to believe that to be creative, there should be little to no restrictions. To believe that the creative flow should be free to run where it will produces creative chaos and anarchy--or, worse, no creation at all.

That's not to say there isn't a place for No Restrictions in the creative process. But to produce a strong creative piece, boundaries must be set.

When water flows freely, there is no form to it, but give it a boundary or form to fill and it fills it thickly and with purpose.

Twyla Tharp said it best in her book "The Creative Habit" (which I strongly suggest any creative person to read). She said, "Limits are a secret blessing, and bounty can be a curse."

I have been struggling with my final project. I want a strong project but I have been floundering on how to approach it. It wasn't until yesterday when I learned what my limits were that my creativity, my thought processes, began to kick in and take off.

What limits do for me is to cut out all the extras, the jibberish, the nonessential elements and thus leaves me with the pieces that I can work with.

I am an Editor at heart--an archetypal Editor. I do best taking what exists and editing it so that it's beautiful or purposeful or dynamite. Coming up with ideas is NOT my forte (pronounced, FORT as a friend of mine corrects me when I pronounce it Fort-ay). But once the ideas are in place and the elements are there, I can piece them together to get a final outcome that is exceptional.

Now that I have my limits, now that I have a focus and a direction, now that I have the elements, I can move on the project and...

...now I'm excited.

Surreal Tooth Extraction

A cracked tooth landed me in a perverted Tim Burton metaphor. Overtones of Lemony Snicket and shades of Edward Gorey colored the shadows and gave face to what decreasingly called itself reality.

The 45 minute wait even though I was the only one on the waiting list and in the waiting room should have tipped me off. The uncanny appearance of the dental assistant immediately after I sent a text message to a friend saying I was going to reschedule should have tipped me off. The receptionist smiling with her mouth but not with her eyes...the dental assistant smiling with her mouth but not with her eyes...these should have tipped me off.

It wasn't until the Woman-Child with her thick-mascara, stick-straight eyelashes and zombie eyes came in that I started to get an inkling I had entered surreality. She stood always just outside of my vision and asked peppy questions, "Would you like cherry or bubble gum flavor?" When she passed in front of me, her dead eyes belied her animated voice and congenial smile. And when she blinked, her thick eyelashes swept down to her cheeks then popped back up.

The oral surgeon, forced to interact with me, swabbed the outside of my gums to prepare for the Novocaine shot. I should have said something when he didn't swab the inside of my gums but I didn't and therefore jumped out of the chair when he injected the needle into my unprepared gum.

"You are doing so well." Stick-Straight Eyelashes blinked. "Have you considered implants?"

Huh?

"I only want you to have all your options available to you." She blinked. Her mouth smiled, her eyes didn't. "You should have an implant."

My skin crawled. "My insurance won't cover it."

The oral surgeon returned. I panicked when he touched my mouth. I jerked back and turned my head. I didn't trust him. But I had to continue.

"Breathe," I told myself. "Remember to breathe. Keep breathing." The panic welled up.

Stick-Straight Eyelashes blinked and asked, "Have you not had a tooth pulled before?"

"Not since my last baby tooth," I cried.

"You're doing so well." She blinked. I imagined her nodding knowingly (as knowingly as a zombie can) to the oral surgeon.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax.

The oral surgeon dug in. I wanted to cry. My body was screaming at me, "What are you doing to me? Stop this!" All I could do was watch and console myself. The digging. The prying. The pulling. The tearing of nerves. The extraction of roots. Stick-Straight Eyelashes watched with her dead eyes and bright smile. Then the tooth was torn out and the surgeon sewed up the hole and I held back tears.

Stick-Straight Eyelashes jammed gauze in my mouth, "You did so well!" She blinked, then escorted me to a room where she put in a video for me to watch about after-surgery care (copyright 1989). I didn't watch the video. I trembled, cried, and went into shock.

The oral surgeon disappeared with my tooth. No one said anything to me about it. It's as if my tooth didn't exist. So I asked, "Where's my tooth?"

She blinked. "It had very long roots."

Stick-Straight Eyelashes gave me my after-surgery care package with prescriptions. I wanted to escape. She looked straight at me and spoke with a bright smile but there was NO ONE INSIDE. Who stole her? Did the oral surgeon extract one of her teeth?

The more I think about it, the more I am convinced I had entered a perverted Tim Burton movie with overtones of Lemony Snicket and shades of Edward Gorey.

Cobalt Blue

I have discovered, much to my educational detriment, that not having a car has limited me in getting photographs. I have been at the mercy of the bus system. So this past weekend I broke down and bought a car.

She's beautiful! On Wednesday when I decided I had to buy a car I put the Universe to the test. I told the Universe that I wanted a blue car (in my head it was cobalt blue) that got 28-32 mpg freeway driving for under $10K. And it had to be fairly new so that I wouldn't worry about repairs up front. Then I envisioned the dealership and on Saturday I went there. Right on the corner of the lot was this beautiful cobalt blue 2006 Suzuki Aerio with only 21K miles on it and after numerous phone calls to my mechanic and a lot of dickering at the dealership, I drove it off the lot. All my criteria were met!

I have since checked it out online and am satisfied that I made a decent deal.

Now to get the Internet set up! (Taking place on Thursday. Yay!)