Creativity

I haven't designed any logos or websites for while. I used to design all the time--almost every day. For some reason, I usually need a creative outlet to prevent stress from building up. How that works, I'm not sure; I'm only sure that it does. Any kind of creation will do: designing graphics, composing music, building databases, cooking food, writing books, and so on, and so forth. I feel content when I am productive.

But recently I've been so busy with other things, I haven't made time to be really creative. Oh, I suppose have been productive as I've rushed to meet deadlines; however, it's not the same as spontaneously creating something for the joy of creation. Intent makes the difference between full satisfaction and mere relief. When I start a project with the intent to make something that is useful, beautiful, or makes my stomach full, for no reason other than a desire to create, then I gain a sense of satisfaction that lasts for days afterwards. But if I'm up against a tight deadline and have to produce "or else..." then I often feel just relieved when it's over.

I would really like to feel more satisfied after finishing required projects. Some of my best work has been done under pressure, but I haven't enjoyed the results as much as I would if I had undertaken the project spontaneously or out of curiosity. I believe that if I could change my attitude I could learn to feel more satisfied with mandatory projects. But how do I change my attitude? Not just change my outward demeanor when performing such tasks, but really change the way I think and feel about those things. I don't know. Why do I always ask myself such hard questions? Again, I don't know. Maybe I'm trying to teach myself a lesson.

True Success

Today I was prompted to think about what I would do if I had no risk of failure. Well, if success were guaranteed, what couldn't I do? Would I have any limitations? I began listing off all the hopes and wishes that I've been accumulating over the years. I came up with quite a list--more things than I could do in a lifetime.

Then I started to think about some of the times I have failed in my life. Those are learning experiences. In fact, I think I have learned more from failures than successes. Maybe not more in numbers of facts or rules, but definitely more in value, application, and character building. Failing teaches vivid lessons that we rarely fail to remember. The grief we feel as we climb a learning curve is the price we pay for wisdom. That's why it's important that we not give up; because if we do give up, some else will have to take our place and face that same grief, while ours will have been for nothing. I think that's the only time failing is bad--when we fail to try again.

A Good Read

What book of fiction have you read most recently? I was asked that question today, and I had to think about it for a moment. Finally, I remembered; it was Never Let Me Go by British author Kazuo Ishiguro. I think I made it through the third chapter, but I have difficulty remembering when so many months have passed. The idea for the story was very interesting, but the writing style didn't capture my imagination.

I should probably feel embarrassed for having gone so long without reading a novel or short story. I don't. However, I am not an uncultured swine--I am a very cultured one. I enjoy reading books of many genres. In fact, I am writing a fiction novel at present. Yet, my favorite books are ones that teach. Whether it teaches a skill, a method, an historical event, a moral, or just about any interesting fact, I love to read it.

Growing up, I would read from the children's encyclopedias my family owned. While we had generous supply of story books and novels, I instinctively reached for more raw information. I don't know why.

Even today, when I curl up on the couch with a book it's usually a reference material of some kind. I can very easily recall the last non-fiction book I have read from cover to cover--Transcending CSS: The Fine Art of Web Design by Andy Clarke. Very few plot twists, I must admit, but riveting nonetheless.

Hour Bills

I bought a Mac today. It cost an arm and a leg, but why else would I be born with two of each?

Actually, I didn't have to give up any anatomy. I did, however, in a sense, give up a portion of my life for the shiny, new toy. Hours of my life were exchanged for wages. Wages were exchanged for an object. This object will demand more of my time and wages. Then, eventually, this object will depreciate into oblivion and I'll find something else to fill the void.

I wonder if we would spend money more frugally if it more closely resembled the hours of our lives that were spent earning it. For example, what if, instead of a ten dollar bill, I handed the cashier a one hour bill. (Maybe you earn more for your time, but I'm a college student--by definition, I should be overworked.) So, in essence, I have traded an hour of my life for something I want. How many hours do I have remaining? I don't know. Would it make any difference to me if I did know? Probably.

This example could continue; for what if I wanted something so badly that I would be willing to promise hour bills that I do not even have? Hours of my life that I have not even lived yet?

That's debt.

What a sad thing is debt. There are people who may have decades of life ahead of them, yet they already owe 20 or 30 years of it to others. But does the opposite hold true? Do people free of debt have a surplus of life? Well, maybe they don't live longer, but they can definitely spend their hour bills the way they choose.

How did I get on this tangent? Oh, yes. I bought a Mac. I hope this tangent doesn't develop into buyer's remorse.

At any rate, I think I've spent my limit of hour bills on this post for now. Interestingly enough, my family just sent me this video a few seconds ago. That is the coincidence of the day. Enjoy.

Perfection

Perfectionism is its own worst enemy; it single-handedly prevents itself from accomplishing its own ends. It does this by first setting impossible standards, then strictly enforcing them every step of the way. It demands that every detail be absolutely flawless before progress can be made. And in making such demands, it ensures that progress is never made. It is a bloated bureaucracy of the mind.

I am a recovering perfectionist. I don't know why I was born with such an odd disability, but I guess we all have our own demons to face. In my determination to break free of this strange prison, I have taken to writing. I like to write. Yet, in writing I find my symptoms of perfectionism to be most obvious.

My hope is that daily writing will help me to let go of my anxieties. My method is entirely contradictory in nature. I am attempting to loosen my self-imposed standards in a controlled way. I am practicing a lack of restraint.

But I do have to be a bit careful; my purpose is not to reject goals, but is to reject the method by which I have pursued them. I want to be able to produce a rough draft. I want to be able to look past my own mistakes. I want to be able to complete a thought without refining it first. It's not that I want my work to be any less perfect. I just want it to be more complete. I have left so many perfect beginnings unfinished that I find myself cherishing nearly all of my few, imperfect, yet finished, ends. Now there's some spit in Perfectionism's eye!

If I accomplish nothing else by this little exercise, I'll at least feel better about honestly and openly addressing one of my biggest weaknesses. For now I'll just focus on a little less flawlessness and a lot more completeness.