Kelly Buntin Johnson on Creativity

Kelly is one of those people who are so creative, you don’t even know where to start. She wears the coolest (mostly vintage) clothes, and she makes books and jewelry (which you can find at Doodlet’s in Santa Fe, among other places) in addition to her fabulous Intercessors. Go here to see more. Go here to read her blog.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
2. Where does it come from?
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
Yes, Kelly got the same questions as everyone else. Here’s what she did instead. (I didn’t change the color of hers response because she used color in her own way.)
Enjoy!

Hi Rice (with two dots above the e ),
  Here goes, my answer to  the three important questions:
  and of course it has a title:         

  Cows can be Purple

And so in my usual manner, your three questions pertaining to creativity I have cogitated on whilst finishing up another art project with looming deadline attached and whilst going through everyday household chores.  Yesterday morning whilst eating breakfast and reading The Herbal Medicine  Maker's Handbook  A Home  Manual by James Green, I learned a new word: garbling.  Now this is used in context of gathering herbs but Mr.. Green's evolved definition fits into my concept of creativity.  On pg 62, Mr. Green says: Garbling is an exercise in the high art of paying attention to detail....... Garbling, when done correctly, is a meticulous, self-satisfying chore, the object of which is to remove all the excess stem and twigs, impurities and adulterants, and decayed and deteriorated portions of the plant, which not only mar appearance but are apt to contaminate the usable portions..... Garbling is an unsung backstage activity akin to the kneading of bread or proofreading manuscripts.  Mindful garbling transforms good-quality herb into great-quality herb and great-quality herb into primo herb.
Mr. Webster in my unabridged 1920s dictionary tells me this : 
garble v. 2. To sift; to remove dross or dirt from; as to garble spices; also, to separate ( impurities ) from drugs, spices, etc.
garbler n. One who or that which garbles; specif., Brit., one who sorts spices, etc.
dross n. 3. waste matter, any worthless matter separated from the better part, as dregs, .... refuse.
And so, dear reader, you may be wondering, "Why is she going on and on about a word other than creativity.  Doesn't she know the assignment?"  ( Yes, she knows the assignment. )
A few years ago, I was introduced through my research to a historic Navaho Supernatural figure from their belief system.  Big Fly.  A  Mentor.  The imaginary figure perches on your ear whispering how to stay on the good path.  Big Fly, very thoughtfully, helps you be a better person IF you listen to it.
I can sense that I am losing you, dear reader.  "Why is she now going on and on about some imaginary fly?  Yuck, I hate flies."  ( shhhhh, be patient for a few more paragraphs, please )
Back to Mr. Webster for a moment:
create v. 4. To produce as a work of thought or imagination, esp. as a work of art or of dramatic interpretation along new or unconventional lines.
creative adj. 1. Having the power or quality of creating.
I believe that each human being is born with this gift, this talent, this power.  The ability to garble, to sift out dross, to listen to a voice inside.  But, through the process of becoming an adult, these abilities are  not  valued in our culture, celebrated, or encouraged by those people that hurry human beings through the process of fitting into the mold.  Labels are attached.  Oh, how people  love labels.  Makes them comfortable,  Then human being can be stuffed in a nice neat box with a label 'Tastes like Chicken'.  Cows are definitely not purple.  And so as our little human being example is herded through the process of growing up and being fitted for a box to be stuffed into, this gift, this talent, this power is neglected and doubted.  Little human being becomes deaf.
Thankfully this gift, this talent, this power can be retrieved from the layers of dross that has buried and suffocated it over the decades.  It takes a strong dose of courage to be able to step out of the comfortable 'tastes like chicken' way of life and don the hat of garbler.
And here is where I stretch Mr. Webster's and Mr. Green's definition of garbling.
Imagine yourself with a giant pair of tweezers perched on a stool in front of a worktable piled high with the unproductive, and unwholesome matter of your particular life.  Stems and twigs, if you like.  There isn't any clock in the room, no one wanting dinner prepared, no dirty laundry.  You have allowed yourself a bit of precious time to sift through all the 'rules' that have been imposed on you, all the herding you into a neat and tidy label-able box through the years.  You have applied the brakes, so to speak, to this 'tilt-a-whirl' ride of life to acknowledge this gift, this talent, this power that dwells deep within all of us.  You have, with your giant tweezers, sifted out all the dross and there smashed and crumpled a bit, but still there, lying on the worktable are the words: cows can be purple or green or orange.  And lastly,  you have courageously unclogged your ears, allowing Big  Fly's words of encouragement sing to you.
Live mindfully, dear reader.  Have the courage to step off the 'tilt-a-whirl' ride of Tastes like Chicken boxed life and shout Cows can be Purple.  Grab those tweezers and garble dross.  Encourage and celebrate  young fresh human beings thought processes and approaches.   
Throw out (no better yet, put out for recycle ) those neat and tidy boxes and labels.
Aspire not be become an astronomer when you grow up but a GARBLER extraordinaire and help others find this pathway.
and this is my answer to your three questions, dear Rice ( with two dots above the e )
hugs,
kelly b j

Hey, Tita Moma!

Wendy picked you! Here’s what she says:
Wow! Thank you for all your wonderful comments on this journal. It 
makes me wish I could give a journal to everyone, but, of course I 
can't. I will be making more journals to give away on Ricë's blog, and 
maybe a few on my own, so ya'll stay tuned, and we'll see what happens.
In case you wondered HOW I/we picked, I numbered all your entries, and 
used a random number generator (it was simpler than putting numbers in 
a hat). But I truly loved reading the entries, so don't think you 
shouldn't write!
What I really want to hear/see is how the journal is used. That's what 
this is all about. Using journals!
w

Artists’ Studios Online

James Michael Starr sent me this cool link to real artists’ studios. I do wish you could embiggen the photos, but I love what the artists have to say about their spaces. Go here.

Arley Berryhill on Creativity

Arley is a fabulously-talented figurative sculpture and fiber artist I actually know In Real Life—we’ve met in Houston and in New Mexico, where we had dinner in Albuquerque not too long ago. Check out his work here.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
Wow, that's a tough one! I think "creativity" is the talent to make something from nothing, -- be it a piece of art, or the ability to take an ordinary day and make it special. It's really a way of thinking, imagining,and seeing, that makes what you do "creative."
2. Where does it come from?
I truly believe it's something you are born with. There are skills you can learn to be a good craftsperson, and exercises you can do to be more creative,-- but that basic, raw ability to be able to imagine something that isn't there, has to come from a place deep inside of you.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
For me, it's second nature. I do it without thinking. I'm always sketching, writing, & observing. I collect things -- things I have no idea why I need them, I just know I'm attracted to them, and must have them.
But, to access my creativity, I just ask myself, "what if?" Even when watching a stupid TV commercial, I say, "What if they painted everything in that commercial the same color, except the product they are selling? That would make it stand out, and add more style to this stupid ad." --Like I said, it's a way of thinking & seeing things differently than they appear.

Podcast: Rants from The Grammar Bitch, Episode 1

Oh, honeys!  I’m so excited about this. I’ve worked on it all week, learning all kinds of stuff and trying to work out all the bugs. What an adventure it’s been, too. But I think I’m getting there, I really do. So please listen to this, if you can, and let me know what you think.
Never fear, it’s not going to take the place of the interviews with artists—but they’re kind of hard to schedule,  you know? They’re—hello!—Working Artists. With an emphasis on the word “working.” So, to make the most of all this stuff I’ve downloaded and set up and learned how to use, I’m going to do other podcasts, in addition to those interviews. And this is the first one. Hooray!

A New Adventure!

Have y’all missed me?
{You’re going, “Gee, no, Ricë; you post every damn day. We don’t have time to miss you.”}
But you know what I mean:  I haven’t been posting long posts or rants or anything. And so I was hoping y’all had all been going, “Oh, I do so miss her! I really do!” Flatter me here, OK?
Because I’ve been Working on Something this week, and I’ve finally got it finished and ready to go. It’s amazing the amount of time it took to create this 15-minute podcast; but, in justification, I will say that it also involved music, about which I know Nothing at all, and writing and editing and listening to other people’s podcasts to figure out what I like and what I don’t like. And, whew.
So it’s done, and I’ll post a link here in a minute. Right now I’m getting ready to go on a walk and think about this. It was great fun, but it was a lot of work. And it’s not paying work. So I have to think about how it’s going to fit into my life. You know:  there’s paying work, there’s work you have to do, there’s stuff you do for fun, and there’s the stuff you’re compelled to do (like, oh, making art, you know?). Where is this going to fit? It’s not paying work, and it’s not work I have to do, like laundry and paying bills and doing taxes and shit. So it’s either got to be For Fun, or it’s going to be An Obsession. It’s going to have to be a whole lot less work for it to be For Fun—I’m hoping the whole learning curve thing just hurries up and smoothes on out, is what I’m hoping. But, with me, you know it could easily become An Obsession, which would be, oh, so sad. I’d have to add it to blogging and stitching and scribbling in the journal. Like I need more things I’m compelled to do. Yeah.
So. Off to take a walk and see what I think. Are you like that? If I’m confused, I walk. If I’m in pain, I walk. If I’m angry or excited, sad or thrilled, tired or jittery—I walk.
And wish me well—the wind is picking up, and in West Texas in the spring, there’s always the fear that I’ll be blown right away. Hey—I might end up in your yard! Watch for me—I’ll be the dusty woman in the acid green hoodie, muttering to herself.

Amy Hanna on Creativity

Amy is a mixed media jewelry artist in California. You can visit her blog here and go to her etsy shop here.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
I feel that creativity is the way people share how they  interpret  their surroundings.
2. Where does it come from?
I feel that my creativity comes from God.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
By living your life in an authentic way.  Taking every opportunity you have to reach out to others, listen , love , touch, feel.  Take in your surroundings let yourself be quiet and soak it all in. And share with others.

Barbara Strembicki on Creativity

Barbara is the owner/proprietor/creative vision behind Joggles.com, the on-line source of supplies, classes, and inspiration for fabric artists all over the world. Go here to find out more.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
Creativity is taking some of the disparate bits of the flotsam and jetsam of ideas floating in my head and combining them into… something. 
2. Where does it come from?
Creativity comes from within.  The inspiration that often accompanies creativity comes from everywhere and from everything we see.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
Accessing creativity means being willing to let go of the fear of failure and of not making “perfect” art and just being willing to get started.  I often find that the longer I’m away from creating the more time it takes to get “warmed up”, so to speak.  My first forays into making art when I’ve been away can frequently be trash can material, but I’ve learned to accept this and just keep working.  I know that the ideas are there and that the execution will come.  Why do so many of us expect ourselves to be great at making art right from the get go?  I’d no more expect that than I would to get in an airplane and just know how to fly it.  Art takes practice and the more you practice the more proficient you can become.  Finding time to create and practice is not easy, though the joy that comes from a piece that ends up as you envisioned it is well worth the effort.
Barb

Cheap Joe’s $1 Shipping

If you’re planning to order from Cheap Joe’s, do it today (it may be good through tomorrow, as I just got this this afternoon, but I don’t know). Here’s your code for $1 shipping:

No affiliation, etc. Just An Enabler for your Art Supply Shopping Jones.

Jenny Doh on Creativity

Jenny Doh is editor-in-chief of Somerset Studio, among other magazines, and is the director of publishing for Stampington & Company. She is also an executive consulting editor and columnist for Where Women Create. Go here to visit her blog.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
The manifestation of a person’s courage and imagination to do/say/make something that doesn’t necessarily follow a set standard of rules or expectations in order to transform the action/statement/object into an inspired and even transformative experience.

2. Where does it come from?
Deep within oneself ... Through the process of answering the question: “Who am I and what do I value?”

3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
By getting to know ourselves better through critical self-examination and values clarification.

Peter Clark on Creativity

Peter Clark is an amazingly creative paper artist who lives near London. Check out his creations here. (And don’t you just love that home page?)
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
Creativiyt or creativity....so variable and so personal but basically I think that it is making the absolute best of what you have been given.
2. Where does it come from?
You got me here!  it just bubbles up from within and kind of takes you by surprise...takes you over...it can be just a spontaneous thing...coming I think from looking and listening.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
Similar to 2...allow your thoughts and dreams to flourish and develop, initially un-edited.Try to apply them to everything that one does - make the most mundane things really interesting, happier, brighter....go with it! don’t try and think toooooo much.
This can be tough to do but try and explore with a free mind , no preconceptions.

Podcast Remodeling

Thanks for all the feedback, especially the e-mails with lots of advice and recommendations for podcasts for me to listen to. I really enjoy the process, and I think I can work at these and make them really cool. So I took the plunge and signed up with libsyn, which seems to be the the most popular podhost—it’s the one Danny Gregory uses. I’m actually paying for this, which I thought was probably a good idea to encourage me to do it  regularly. For those of you who had concerns about downloading or finding this first podcast in iTunes, please let me know if this is what you need. I don’t have an iPod and don’t imagine I’ll ever go that route, so anything I need to know, I rely on y’all to tell me.
OK. This is where it is now. Let me know if this is what you need, please.

Hey, Goodwolve & Lullabelle!

Come on, now--surely you're out there. Lullabelle won the little journal from last week, and Goodwolve gets the copy of Apronology. But if you don't send me your real name/address, it won't work. So help me out here, please~~

James Michael Starr on Creativity

James Michael Starr is a fabulous mixed media and assemblage artist living in Dallas, Texas. He graciously agreed to contribute to my last book, Living the Creative Life, and we had a wonderful panel discussion about creativity with Michael DeMeng in Ft. Worth right after the book came out.

You can see more of his work here—this is an example of how a web site itself can inspire.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
I think common usage, and overuse, has progressively constricted the word "creativity" to the point where we now use it in a way that's rather exclusive. It seems to me that it has become shorthand for the set of skills or talents that enables a "creative" individual to craft or fashion some aesthetic form of expression, for instance, visual art, literature, music or a performance. So in our vernacular, "talent" has become almost inseparable from "show."
I think that particular interpretation is limiting, even to the detriment of some people who will limit their expectations of themselves, as they've become convinced that because they're not creating they're not creative.
But instead of only seeing creativity as a special gift that leads to the production of art or music or some other "creative expression," I see it as a universal human quality that operates out of the specific giftedness of each individual. In other words, I think that, while it is wonderful, it's not special. Every person, I am convinced, has the potential to realize a talent or affinity or proclivity for some positive or constructive activity that enriches life and brings them joy. That is their creative act, and their ongoing application of it is their creativity. That individual may be gifted in an understanding of mathematics, for instance, and may approach the solving of a problem in a creative and productive way, whether or not the rest of us witness it or are entertained by it.
For me, one affirmation of this view can be seen in the concept of originality. Most of us would say creativity and originality accompany one another. But how truly original, for example, is my own sculpture, in and of itself? Take what I call my bicycle piece, "Une Bicyclette pour Rrose." Surely I'm not the first artist who ever replaced a bicycle's wheels with other circular objects. Maybe I'm the first who ever added saw blades, but so what? Then, according to the commonly accepted link between creativity and originality, if my outward expression, my art, is not original, how creative could I really be? But I believe it's not this sculpture itself that's original, but what happened inside of me to produce it. My truly unique experiences and memories and the concepts and images I've internalized of bicycles and motion are what came together in an original way to create that sculpture. To me, this is one way of seeing that, although we tend to measure creativity by visible evidence, it is actually more of an inner process that might be experienced only by the individual and so cannot necessarily be measured or defined by others.

2. Where does it come from?

I think we are creative because we were created, so it's as much a part of our make-up as are the applicable Elements of the Periodic Table, like carbon or hydrogen. And I'm not trying to spark a God vs Darwin debate, as my belief in having been created doesn't conflict with scientifically proven facts. Besides, I got lost driving to meet a friend at Starbucks yesterday morning, so I can hardly be expected to explain the Meaning of Life and everything. My point is, I'm convinced it's not a brain chemistry thing but a spiritual thing. My experience of my own creativity is a transcendent one. It is so tangible as to answer all my questions about why I am here, and yet so mysterious and ethereal as to leave me stunned after making a piece of art, wondering what in the hell happened.

3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?

This is the easiest and the hardest thing to do. I believe it's easy in that our own giftedness (and, thus in my view, our creativity) is not only waiting to be discovered, but is actively trying to make itself known to each of us all the time. If one can allow for periods of solitude in which to think about and respond to the activities that offer the most joy, it will become obvious, and then it's simply a matter of making room for it in your schedule. The hard part is that so many of us have not been taught to honor silence and solitude, and instead have been trained to fill our days with the comfort of noise and the voices of other people, who may not be highly motivated to help us understand what we're on earth to do. I think this can be especially difficult for women, who are so often socialized to be caretakers.
The most significant personal growth I've observed taking place over the past 18 years is a kind of transition I see running along two parallel tracks in my life. That transition is my movement toward things that are the most meaningful and fulfilling. And the two tracks are 1) my late-blooming career as an artist and 2) my middle-aged years. On both tracks I'm aware of increasing impatience with anything that wastes my time: on the "artist" track because I want to devote as much time as I can to making art, and on my "middle-aged guy" track because I'm becoming more and more aware of my own mortality.
So all that is to say that time seems to be a key factor. But discovering giftedness and creativity is a personal journey available to each of us, if we're willing to give up the cotton candy of life in favor of the things that are more substantial but require chewing. Like the song says, the best things in life really are free. But it takes a lot of energy to dig for an understanding of who we are, and then even more to fight off the trivial things that would interfere with our living it out.

This Week’s Give-Away: A Wendy Hale Davis Handmade Journal

Oh, my darlin’s, y’all are in for a treat this week: Wendy has ever-so-generously made a journal for me to give away here, and if you’ve ever seen her hand-bound journals, you know what a treat that is. Maybe you’ve seen them on her website, or in Jason Thompson’s Making Journals by Hand, or in my book—who knows where you might have seen them? Or maybe you saw this way-cool book on her blog this week:  made from a linen bag that tamales came in.
Whatever. If you haven’t seen them, you must. And you heard her talk about them last week on the podcast, where she mentioned many of the special things about her journals, like how they’ll bend back on themselves, like a spiral. And the pocket in the back. Fabulous stuff.
Now the treat:

This is the front. It’s covered with a vintage (!) kimono,
 
with the title inset.
 

The pages are Rives BFK, which will mean something to some of you. To everyone else:  really nice paper.

Endpapers. (That’s a spot of sunshine on them—I took these outside.)

The sewn headband.
OK. I’m going to get Wendy to help me pick someone on Friday, so your job is to convince her that you’d give this wonderful journal an excellent home and use it in a productive way (I’m channeling Roz here—Roz loves to be productive, as do I. Roz and Wendy are friends. It makes sense to me to channel one when I think of the other).
OK, people:  when you post a comment and thereby enter the contest, Your Job is to check back on Friday and, if you win, send me your address. I’m holding some stuff here right now that people won but haven’t claimed. Imagine, if you will, my frustration at this. Of course, this will NOT happen with Wendy’s fabulous journal.
Post. Amaze her. Good luck!

Susan Shie on Creativity

Susan is the original art quilter. Her fabulous multi-media, incredibly tactile quilts are just amazing—you can look at them over and over, finding something new each time. I got to see one of her newer ones in Houston at the International Quilt Show. You can see more in my last book, Living the Creative Life. Visit her website and Turtle Trax diary. Facebook users can see more here.
(I love Susan! You will, too.)
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
Creativity is when we interact with and change energy and ideas.
Rearranging energy. :) In day-to-day terms, it's self expression in
any form. From growing some food to fixing a meal with that food to
painting a picture of that food or that meal or writing a song, story,
or poem about that food or meal. It's mundane and lofty and everything
in between, whenever we decide to communicate an idea. CREATIVITY IS
WHAT WE GODDESSES AND GODS (EVERYONE) DOES NATURALLY, AS A GIFT TO THE
UNIVERSE, ALL THE TIME. GET BUSY!

2. Where does it come from?
It comes from our natural yen to express ourselves. It comes from God-
dess. It comes from feistiness and stubbornness and hunger and hating
boredom / the System. It comes from needing to do something different
or die! It comes from being dropped on our heads when we were babies,
thank God! It comes from not wanting anybody to tell us how we have
to live or think or be. It comes from the planet Schmooooo, or was
that Earth?



3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it
in our lives?
Just do it, instead of worrying about it. Fight for the time and the
space and the money and the energy and the tools and the supplies and
the exposure. Or just go nuts and keep creating, and keep believing
that this passion will bring it up to the top, like how water seeks
its own level. Don't fool around, worrying about what to do. Just
EXPRESS YOURSELF and don't come out of that studio or that kitchen or
that bedroom or that basement or whatever space you have to work in,
until you're just flat out worn out and need some sleep. If you get
stuck, just get unstuck and stop whining, and get back to creating!
IT'S OUR BIRTHRIGHT, TO CREATE. THEY DRUGGED US INTO THINKING WE
CAN'T. Dance around and sing and spin in circles and make stuff
up! WE ARE ALL GOD! HURRAY!
Also, it helps to eat yummy things that make you happy, and sometimes
a little wine! I guess it helps to point out that being happy is a
very good surface to create on, and that itsy, bitsy things should be
able to make you happy, like petting a cat or opening a new bar of
soap. If you can't be happy, how come? Why do you have such damn
tender feelings? FIND HAPPINESS IN TINY THINGS, AND THEN WATCH THE
CREATIVITY COME POURING OUT!

Love, Susan, excited that there is such a thing as PodBean! :)

Teesha Moore on Creativity

Teesha Moore is a mixed-media artist, journal artist, and the originator and host, with her husband, Tracy, of Artfest, Art Fiber Fest, and Journal Fest. She has created several ‘zines, including The Studio ‘Zine, Play, and Art and Life. I first interviewed her for Rubberstampmadness years and years ago; and now she’s in my next book, Creative Time and Space, due out from North Light Books in September. She’s the one who sparked the whole art journal phenomenon—you can go here to see some of her fabulous art journal pages.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
Creativity is connecting to a higher source and experiencing that state of bliss associated with the universal stream of consciousness. People don't really realize this is what is happening half the time. But that is why we need creativity...to connect, to remember, to satiate that need we have inside for something greater than ourselves....and to feel that peace you get when you've been creative in some way.
2. Where does it come from?
We are all born with creativity. I firmly believe we are all creative souls...because that is the connection we all have with everyone, the world around us and the unknown universe. It's just that so many people associate creativity with artistic talent, that people don't realize they are creative. Creativity is simply a different way of doing things, thinking about things. Some people might not think they have a creative bone in their body and yet they can be creative when socializing, working, anything!
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
You access your own creativity by using it. Plain and simple. You cannot know how fast you can run until you start running...and then to REALLY see how fast you are, you need to practice at it. The more you do it, the better you get at it and the more natural it becomes to your body. It's the same thing. You have to USE that creative muscle so that your brain automatically kicks into gear when you sit down to create. It's important to keep learning, keep reading, keep questioning, keep making things, keep re-thinking your life goals, keep trying to better yourself. I think this is living a creative life.

Jodi Creager on Creativity

Jodi and her husband, Richard, are figurative artists—they make intricately-detailed art dolls. Go here to see their fabulous work, and go here to read Jodi’s blog.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
To me…Creativity is something that goes so deep and is so embedded in an individual that you could actually say it is a substance of the very soul. It is a desire, better yet a ‘drive’ to make something from nothing… and to go way beyond what something could be and make it something unique with imagination. I think Creativity allows you to interpret something that possibly is mundane and take it to greater levels of originality.
2. Where does it come from?
Creativity comes from so many places…but as I stated I believe it comes first from the very soul… You have to believe in and live creativity in order for Creativity to achieve it’s true purpose. I believe Creativity ‘happens’ when life around you ‘inspires’.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
Again…you must feel the Creativity that is within. I believe each of us has Creativity…but that each of us focuses it in different directions …some with Art, Music, Writings, song, design and even how we think.
What we make of our Creativity is up to each of us…we can go forth and create magnificent things on a regular basis or choose to use Creativity sparingly . I think How Creativity makes us feel inside dictates our use. I know some very talented creative people who choose to never create a thing… they do not feel the need…While others struggle to achieve that creative edge and work at it day in and day out… searching and never feeling the true creativity they seek. I think if you find the right direction to focus your Creativity … imagination and inspiration will lead you there.

Allegra Smith on Creativity

Allegra Smith, aka Bijou du Jour, is a jewelry artist and former Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef. Go here to find out more. Here’s what she has to say about creativity.
1. In your opinion, what is creativity?
It is a gift to be shared. It belongs to everyone and some of us seek, and some times find, the way to express it. It is another facet of Universal energy perhaps in one of its purest form.
2. Where does it come from?
I believe that the Universe itself is an inexhaustible source of creativity. The same way radio waves travel in an imaginary never ending belt I believe that all creativity exists at a similar level. It travels freely in the Universe forever. I base my belief on the fact that any form of energy can be transformed into another form, but the total energy always remains the same. As times change and different mediums are available, artists find new ways of creating and so that creative energy can be transformed into a different expression but the source of inspiration and creativity in its original energy form always remains the same.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives?
I believe that we need to acknowledge to ourselves first that everything has been done before.
We are the metamorphosis mediators, we take a blank canvas and turn it into images that perhaps only exist in our imagination until by the force of creativity and our willingness to explore that energy, becomes from a vague, ill defined idea a way to communicate to the collective consciousness. Think Picasso's Cubist period.
We take silica and fire and turn it into objects of beauty. We use words to communicate the invisible, the non-existent outside our own reality, our own feelings and some times others’.
We play with adventures into the unknown. Creativity gets its greatest pulses I believe when we don't take what we do too seriously, when we are willing to fail in our attempt to "achieve" and instead we allow ourselves to see the world - and our own work -through the eyes of a child, not the eyes of the "others". I truly believe that creativity is at its safest and most expressive when we invite it to come and live in our "treehouse". When we offer a free safeconduct to be, when the rules are not dictated but made as we go along. When we find a safe refuge from the sometimes incomprehensible behaviour of the non-creative part of life, in our studio, our books, our typewriters or our word processors.
Once we make peace with these terms, creativity becomes a friend, a liberator, a source of joy and not of fear. We don't care what others may think of our work - it has all been done before after all - but for this time around we have been entrusted with a precious gift: to make our creations a representation of our times, our view of the world, our joy about being able to bring to life something that otherwise would have to remain silent and hidden in the energy vaults of the Universe until someone in the future will grasp the concept and run with it. If that doesn't enrich our lives, I truly don't know what could.

Never Mind.

Not that anyone actually read that last post and was sitting there, scratching their heads and trying to figure out a way to help me. But I thought I’d sound the All Clear anyway.
I’ve told y’all before that my friend Wendy, she of The Podcast, is brilliant. She’s so brilliant, in fact, that she knows shit about stuff she doesn’t even know about. To wit:  Wendy does not have a PC. Wendy has a Mac. She does not have the same programs that I have. But when I told her my problem, she asked some questions and said that it sounded as if Audacity had taken over as the default player. I’d already gone in and changed that, making Windows Media Player the default audio player, as that seemed most basic and, therefore, safest. But she got me to thinking. So I went in and finally tracked down the place where it has the default programs that open various kinds of files and found the MP3 one. That was Audacity, also, so I changed it, too. And golly if that wasn’t it.
Now it works just like The EGE’s.
The sad part? When Wendy asked if mine had ever worked that way, like, perhaps, before I installed Audacity? Guess what. I couldn’t remember. Of course. Because before this week, I had never had any interest in listening to a lot of podcasts, so I wasn’t paying attention to how they opened or downloaded or whatever.
But it doesn’t matter: it’s fixed. And Wendy has cemented her reputation as being just so amazingly brilliant that she doesn’t even have to know about something to know about it. You know?

Need Audio Help!

Good grief. I hope someone can help me. When I click on a podcast—say, one of Danny Gregory’s podcasts (because I’m trying to listen to other people’s podcasts for info about how to make mine better)--a window opens that asks me if I want to save it, and then the file downloads, and then my media player opens.
When I click on the same podcast on The Ever-Gorgeous Earl’s computer, the media player starts playing immediately. No downloading, no folder, no questions, nothing.
I want mine to do what his is doing. What settings do I need to change? Somebody? ANYBODY!
And here’s the sad part:  I set up both these computers, so they should work identically. Ha. I’ve searched everywhere and have been dicking around with this all day and cannot figure out what the deal is. HELP!
And thank you.

Apronology: Bonus Give-Away for Your Friday

If it’s not 1) work-related or 2) something I’ll read again, I just can’t justify the space. On the other hand, if it costs $14.99 plus tax, I can’t justify putting it in the recycling bin, either. And since I know no one in Midland who might like to have this, I’m offering it here.

I will not be shipping this overseas—sorry, but last time I did that, postage was like $7.
So:  you want it? Let me know.

Carol Parks on Creativity

Carol Parks is a mixed-media artist who spent 50 years in the music business as a singer, songwriter and producer. Her gallery space in Southern California hosts workshops and classes by all the mixed media artists you know and love. Go here to read more.
Here’s what Carol has to say about creativity:
1. In your opinion, what is creativity? Our God head.
2. Where does it come from? We are born with it.
3. How can each of us access that creativity and make the most of it in our lives? We start by starting.

On Creativity

I sent a note to dozens of the most creative people I know asking them three questions:

1. What is creativity?

2. Where does it come from?

3. What can people do to access it and make the most of it in their lives?

Lots of them don’t have time to respond, but that’s OK—I love knowing that the most creative people in the world are all busy doing stuff. The ones who did manage to take a break to send answers will give us a chance to see how creative people think about creativity. And, if you check this morning’s Journal Spank, you’ll see that you, as a fellow creative, have a chance to ponder these same questions. Think about them first; then come back and read what others have to say. I’ll post them as they come in. So cool!

So How Do You Feel about Podcasts?

I posted my first podcast yesterday, and I’ve been all excited about all the ones I want to do—the people I want to interview, the things I want to talk about. But I need to know if it’s even worth the time and trouble. There weren’t very many comments, and I have no idea if anyone is even listening to this (yeah, yeah, I could get a stat counter for it—but if nobody’s listening and I’m not going to do any more, what’s the point, right?)

It took about five hours, all together. Future ones won’t take nearly as long, of course, once I get the whole hosting thing settled--but there’s still the editing, getting it down to under 20 minutes. And that took a LONG time—I was surprised.

Anyway, what I need to know:  do you listen to podcasts? A lot, or just sometimes? What do you listen for: what interests you? How long—do you like ‘em short and sweet, something you can listen to during a coffee break? Or do you like things with more depth, something you can listen to while you’re painting or stitching?

I’m guessing videos are way more interesting, but I can’t do videos with artists who live halfway across the country. Podcasts is the only way I can bring them to you live.

There are a lot of these I want to do, but what’s the point if nobody’s going to listen, right? I need to know what people enjoy so I’m not wasting my time and that of the artists I talk to. So let me know, please.

Journal Spank: What is Creativity?

What is creativity? Where does it come from? What can we do to access it and get more of it in our lives?

Those are the questions I sent to dozens of the most creative people I know, and here in a minute I’m going to start posting their replies. What surprised me but shouldn’t have is how many of them were either traveling (New York City, South Africa) and said they’d have to get back to me or are just too busy to play. Creative people are busy people, for sure.

Some of the busiest, though, managed to eek out some time to send answers, and those are just so cool. And so varied! So keep checking back—I’ll post them one at a time, with links.

In the meantime, get your journal and write about what YOU think—your ideas about creativity are just as valid as those of anyone else. What do you think it is? What’s your recipe for getting more? And please share:  we’d love to hear your ideas!

Hey, Corrine!

One of the Stamp Artistry books was never claimed, so if you'll send me your snail mail address, I'll send it along to you.

LullaBelle, You Win!

Send me your address lickety-split, and I'll send you this little journal. Hooray!

Thanks to all of y'all who played along--and there'll be another one posted on Monday.

In Which Chiropractic Medicine Makes Me a Believer.

Tomorrow will be two weeks since my first visit to Terry Hamilton. (Doesn’t that sound like, “It’s been two weeks since my last confession. . .”?) As you know, I went in skeptical. I’d been to two chiropractors in the past and hadn’t been impressed. The first, the Former International Underwear Model, gave me a headache that lasted for 4 days I’ve never had a headache that lasted for a day, much less 4. I was not a happy camper about this, as you might imagine. The second is a nice guy, someone I know; but the treatment had no effect on anything.
Plus there’s the little thing I have to admit:  I have always been one of those people, ignorant of the facts, who assumed chiropractors were just geeks who didn’t have the grades to get into medical school. I’m sorry, but that’s  what I thought.
Now, however, I am A Believer.  I have become a convert. Like other novices, I am singing the praises, hallelujah. Today was the first day in so-long-I-can’t-remember that nothing hurt. The neck didn’t hurt, the hip didn’t hurt, the back—she was fine. It was amazing. Unbelievable. Up until about 6 o’clock, when I stood in the kitchen at an awkward posture and cut up vegetables—nothing hurt until then. Even now, I’m not whining. Which is always a miracle in itself. Me = not whining = more amazing than loaves and fishes.
Things have been steadily improving since the first visit, but I wasn’t about to say anything, lest I jinx it. “Hey, I’m doing GREAT!” and then I wake up with no feeling in my head.  Uh-uh—not me.
And things really began to improve this week, when I gritted my teeth and acted like a grown-up and said, just go on with it already, and let him manipulate my neck.
“Manipulate my neck. “That sounds kind of hinky, doesn’t it?  Like something you’d go to a Den of S&M to have done to you, in a dim room with hooks hanging from the ceiling and a guy named Mo wearing a leather harness. And it doesn’t really adequately describe it. I much prefer “popping my neck,” because that’s what it is.  A big, noisy pop.
I never thought I’d let anyone do this. The idea of taking something so fragile—and so painful—as a neck and letting someone yank on it until it pops—it sounds like a recipe for paraplegia, if you ask me.  And I told him, when I went in the first time, that we were not going to do that.  Ever. Never. And he said, sure, that was fine. He said there were other things he could do, and that they might help. But if I didn’t want him to Manipulate My Neck, he would be limited and might not be able to help as much as he could otherwise. Fine. Whatever. As long as there was No Popping of the Neck.
We talked. He looked at the X-rays. He checked everything. I told him about my Issues About Trust and the OCD. Just talking about Popping My Neck made my palms sweat and made me wonder what the hell I was doing there, wasting his time and my money.
And yet, a little over a week later, I go in and say, “Do whatever you need to do.”
What changed? The man is very good. What he did was to start by working on my back and hips, “popping” them in the best way possible:  telling me—and showing me—what he was going to do, asking if that was OK, preparing me, doing the manipulation, asking if I was OK—you know, just basically leading the chicken into the pot. Very gentle, very non-scary.
Oh, what a crock of shit. It was scary:  some strange guy yanking and jerking and shoving me in odd postures, producing these loud POPS and just generally making me ready to leap and run. The adrenaline, she was flowing.
But? My back and my hip began to feel better. I’d had no idea my hip, which has hurt for years and years, would ever feel better. When I sleep on that side at night, it aches and wakes me up. Every night. And, suddenly, it wasn’t. And there was this increased range of motion. Whoa.
I became a believer. And today:  an almost whole day with no pain. Sure, I know there’ll be days when it hurts—it’s up and down, back and forth. Everything is change. But here’s the deal:  now I know that there is hope There is at least the possibility of living without pain every day. And that hope is a really, really big deal; and the world looks so much brighter.
Hallelujah, indeed.

Wendy Hale Davis Talks About Journaling

After another long, long morning of dicking around with podcast hosting, I've given up and am going to try this.

Click the title, or here, to download my podcast with Wendy, who talks about keeping a journal and what it means to her. Go here to see the journals, and here to read her blog (which she promises to update immediately. Snort.)

And please let me know how the download works for you; and if any of you are podcasters with a better listening option, please let me know!

Creativity, Genius, and The Divine

Thanks to y’all’s recommendations, not to mention help with names, at which I completely suck, I just finished listening to the TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, who wrote the wildly popular book, Eat, Pray, Love. I read this book back when it first came out—I bought it in hardcover, at full price, omigod! And then bought a copy for my yoga instructor (I thought she would love it, eat it up, rave about it; I don’t know if she ever actually got through the book, which just goes to prove, once again, that I have absolutely no idea how other people think).
I loved the book—I bought it on CD so we could listen to it on a road trip (The EGE wasn’t wildly impressed, either), but of course, as you can maybe imagine, I had some issues with her more vee-vee-woo-woo spiritual ideas. Kind of with the whole “pray” part of the book, actually. What I loved about the book was her sense of humor and her descriptive ability. And the character of Richard from Texas.
(As an aside, it fascinates me to know that she married the guy she met in the book, and they now run an import business in New Jersey. As she continues to write, of course.)
Anyway. So her talk. She talks about the concept of “genius,” which, hundreds of years ago, was thought to be an outside force, a genie, that lived outside the writer or artist and helped them. She likes this idea and says it takes the pressure off people like her, who have created something remarkable and wildly successful and are now struggling with what to do for an encore. In her talk, she encourages us to come to this way of thinking, this belief that we are not a genius, but that we may HAVE a genius who comes to visit us and help us out.
O-kay. This was a little bit of a stretch for me, as it’s been quite a while since I believed in genies. Since Barbara Eden, in fact. (Warning! Do NOT go to that site! There is a song there that will insert itself into your brain and stay with you for DAYS. Sure, the colors are cool, the hit of nostalgia is groovy, the intro so cute. But you’ve been warned.)
And then Gilbert goes on to talk about, in short, possession by God. She kind of sidles up to it and doesn’t really come out and say that creative inspiration is possession by God, but that is what she’s saying.
I can see why this works for her:  as she says, it removes a lot of the pressure. You don’t have to be a genius, and you don’t have to try to top your early success, if creativity comes from the divine. It pretty much lets you off the hook entirely. Oh, sure—as she points out—you have to show up and do your part. You have to write the 2000 words every day or paint the canvas or sculpt the face. But you don’t have to worry about the genius part. Instead, you wait for your work to be infused by the spirit of the divine. You do the work and then pray, pretty much.
This is not an uncommon idea. Some artists I’ve interviewed believe that there is a spirit of creativity out there in the universe, kind of floating free, and that they are merely channels for it. They show up and do the work and make room for some higher power to infuse that work with genius, not unlike the ancient Romans (she didn’t mention that only men had a genius; women had a juno).
For another theory about creativity, I listened to Tim Brown talking about creativity and play, and the important of the latter in stimulating the former. His talk was a lot of fun, with toys and games thrown in to illustrate.
After listening to these two, I started thinking about my own ideas about what creativity is and where it comes from.
Oh, that’s a lie:  I’m ALWAYS thinking about this. I think about it constantly—in addition to thinking about writing, and writing in my head, thinking about  creativity is just what my brain does. Well, when it’s not obsessing about my frontal lobe in a total navel-gazing, self-reflexive fashion, or  gripped by panic at the crashing economy.
Here’s what I’m thinking about:  Gilbert believes inspiration comes from something outside us, something divine. Brown believes it comes from a willingness to play. What do these two things have in common? Answer: The willingness to be flexible, to give up our natural rigidity and ways of left-brain thinking.
Whatever you want to call it—left-brain thinking, logic, adult reasoning, rigidity—whatever:  there’s a way of thinking that we use to navigate our way through the world as adults who must work and make a living and interact with other adults and make decisions about health care and mortgages and childcare and finances and on and on and on. Because these things are so important to our lives—they’re about how we get money to get food, and how we rear our young, and how we take care of ourselves and those we love—we come to rely more and more completely on the kinds of thinking that help us make those decisions. And, for the most part, that kind of thinking is straight-line, logical, left-brain thinking. That kind of thinking is, in turn, rewarded in our culture. Most of our jobs require it, and most of the Big Decisions do, too.
You don’t want your surgeon to work off intuition, right? (Although Dr. J, when I asked him whether his medical practice, which includes surgery, was art or science, said it was about 50-50.)
I believe that creativity exists in every one of us. At birth, we’re all equally creative, taking into account brain function and health (so if your brain and body are functional, you’re creative). Of course, since you have no control over your fingers yet and can’t communicate effectively with adults, no one knows you’re creative. And by the time you master those skills—manual dexterity and communication—you’ve already begun to lose touch with some of that creativity. As soon as you start learning rules and the Way Things Work and begin to master things like numbers and the alphabet and tying your shoes (although I could also argue that last point, as my husband ties his shoes in the most amazing way I’ve ever seen, one I cannot duplicate, no matter how I try, and which he has used since childhood), you’re already being distanced from that innate creativity.
Children are more creative because their brains haven’t hardened into the patterns they need to survive. But! There are children of whom that is not true:  children who don’t lose touch with their creativity and somehow manage to stay that way into adulthood. Why? For whatever reason, they don’t find themselves thinking in increasingly logical and rigid ways. Maybe they have a lot of encouragement—the people around them value non-linear, outside-the-box thinking. Or the people around them take care of the left-brained requirements for them—maybe they live in a household where the caretaker does all the chores and has everything so well organized that the kid is left alone to daydream large chunks of every day. It could be any kind of an environment that doesn’t force the child to adopt rigid ways of thinking and reacting to the larger world.
So I believe we’re all born wanting to make things, to interact with the world around us in ways that allow us to change it and make new stuff in it and take things and make them into something else. We see ourselves changing, and we want to change the things around us. I think that’s how we all start out.
OK. So some of us keep that. Great. But what about the rest of us? For us, the secret to being more creative is to somehow get away from our rigid ways of thinking:  our ways of thinking that this is way things work, this is the right way to do this and this is the wrong way to do that. This will work, and this won’t work. These patterns go with these colors, and this material belongs here. And some people are born to be artists and some aren’t.
All this is rigid, all non-productive ways of thinking. Instead, we must learn to think in new ways. And here’s where the notion of the divine external creative spark and the idea of play tie in with this idea of breaking away from rigid thinking:  all three require a non-logical, non-rational approach to life.
Believing in divine creative energy is not rational. Exploratory play is not rational. Neither of these relies on the left brain. Both require you to somehow access your right brain, or—if you want to think of it another way—the part of your brain that explores, that is curious, that is—and here’s a big point—always wondering “What if?”
“What if?” is not a logical approach. A logical approach is to believe that the answer is already out there, the solution has already been discovered:  we just need to find it. We need to access it, do the research, hunt it down.
But “what if?” is about the search, the hunt, the exploration to find it yourself. It’s believing that it—whatever “it” is—hasn’t yet been found, and that you get to discover it.
OK. I have more to say about this—and aren’t you surprised?—but my brain is starting to sizzle. It’s overheated, and I’m going to stop for a while and think some more. Or not. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of the day Not Thinking.
Yeah. That’s going to happen.

Check Out the TED Talks ---->

Over on the right there you’ll see the new sidebar with links to the talks that have been recommended here. What I want to do is to get 10 fabulous talks up there and then replace them as you rec. even more fabulous ones. I haven’t listened to all of these but am starting them today, as I do some more stitching.
If you listen to one you think is better than one of the ones listed, let me know--new talks are added to their site all the time, and I don’t want to miss anything amazing.
Thanks for your help!

More Journals to Give Away!

No, not here, sillies! Go here. Amy is doing some spring-ish cleaning and giving away some of her fabulous hand-made journals. Jump over and see what's up. Good luck~~

Stitching with TED

The last couple days I’ve spent stitching. Even though I’m working on a project that has An Actual Deadline and everything, it’s hard for me to sit in one place and stitch:  I enjoy it. It’s relaxing to me. Ergo, it cannot be Real Work.
Real Work is work I do at the computer, with a deadline. Or at the sewing machine, with a deadline. While I enjoy working at the computer, it’s not “relaxing” to me—hardly anything is, actually, outside of stitching. Oh, sure—wine and sex and lying on a warm beach, yeah. But otherwise? You know how tough it is for us Type A’s to relax.
So when I have hand stitching, I usually do it on road trips. We’re not taking any of those, though, and I need to get this done. So I figure, hey, I’ll multi-task my way through it. This is when You TV-Watching People would pull up  a movie or something. I pulled up TED. The TED talks, here, are absolutely the coolest things ever for people like us. They’re a good length—about 15-20 minutes, from what I can tell—and they’re interesting, and you learn stuff, which is always good. Many of them don’t require that you look at the visuals, so you can stitch and listen at the same time. Or listen and paint. Or glue. Or knit.
I heard about these from Judy Coates Perez, one of My Artists, for this next book. She listens to TED talks while she works on her fabulous quilts, and she rec. them to me a while back. I had listened to one or two, but it’s tough for me to sit in one place and listen to something and not do anything else. Today I figured out—duh—that I could listen to these on the laptop if I set it up next to the chair where I like to stitch, in the Voodoo Lounge. Perfect!
Here’s the stitching I did yesterday.
 
It’s a moon, and I loved the stitching but got worried about the whole conical thing—it started shaping itself like one of those slightly-conical straw hats people wear to work in rice paddies. At least in movies they wear these. And it’s not a shape that’s really good for a moon, you know? I tried ironing it flat, but that didn’t hold for long. Finally I soaked it, blotted it, let it set for a while, then pressed it on Really Really Hot. That seems to have worked, although I won’t know until I start beading.

OK. So grab something to work on, or something to drink, get comfortable, and pick out a TED talk to inspire you. Tell me your favorites so I can listen to them, too--

Journal Spank: How Do You Know When It’s Spring?

What’s the one thing that tells you that Spring has arrived? Is it the flowers?


I took these on Sunday in the neighborhood.
Or the trees?

This is one of the Bradford pear trees at the museum, all getting ready to burst into bloom.
For me, it’s not the flowers or the trees or the lengthening days or even when the mesquite leafs out (said to be the sign here in West Texas that we’re past the last freeze—the mesquites are the Official Harbingers of Spring).
For me, it’s a certain scent in the air. I can’t define it or really describe it—I don’t know what causes it. It’s not the perfume of flowers—it’s not a particularly green smell—but when I smell it, I know Spring has finally arrived. I haven’t gotten a whiff of it yet, but I’m ready.
What about you? What’s your sign?

My Morning at The Blood Lab

So last week I went in to have blood work done at the blood lab. Only it’s not called The Blood Lab; it’s called Clinical Pathology Lab, which just makes it sound oh! so cheerful and reassuring, don’t you think? All cheeriness with the pathology, so sure there’s something pathological going on. Why couldn’t they call it Clinical Health Lab? Or simply Good Blood Lab? Or even Vampires R Us? But no. Pathology it is.
And a morning it was, too. Remember I told y’all I went in the day before to ask what was the best time to show up? After 10 am, she said; that’s when it thins out. (The crowd thins out, not the blood; we’re not talking The House of Heparin here.) So I show up the next day at about 10:30, when I should be home eating breakfast, only I can’t, not until I get the blood drawn. And I walk into the waiting room and go, “Holy shit. If this is ‘thinned out, I’d hate to see what ‘crowded’ is.” I say this to myself, of course. “Crowded” must be when they have you sign in and then lie down on top of the old guy over there in the corner, next to the stack of people who’ve been waiting in the pile next to the wall since the doors opened at 7 am.
It’s full of people—mostly old people, but not all; one was an astoundingly pregnant woman, the kind of really-late-in-the-game woman you tip-toe around carefully, lest you accidentally brush against her or step on her toe and send her into full-on screaming labor, right there—and they all look as if they’ve been waiting a really, really long time.
I sign in and find a seat by the door, since I do not like being in tiny, closed rooms filled to bursting with Sick People.  The chairs are those metal chairs with fabric seats that you’re supposed to think of as one step above the kind with the plastic seats. But not me. Because, at least with the cheap plastic seat, you can pretend that they come out every couple of hours with a pail of bleach water and some clean, soft rags, and wipe everything down, humming cheerily behind their respirator. With the fabric? You can’t even pretend. You pretty much know those stains have been there since the Reagan administration and that the fabric is harboring pathogens you haven’t even heard of.
The tv is on, turned to Hey! Bet You Can’t Ignore This! volume, and I try to read a magazine I’ve brought with me. But, when it’s that loud, you can’t ignore it. Plus people talk about it.
This is on Wednesday. On Monday, the wind had blown horribly. Horribly even for Midland, where we get a LOT of wind between January and May. A Lot. Trust me:  we rival even Casper, Wyoming, with the Big Ugly Wind. Plus we have dust. So on Monday, the geography in our town shifted to the east—the wind picked up entire neighborhoods’ worth of dirt and blew them eastward, helpfully distributing that dirt into the yards and houses and cars and eyes of the people on the other side of town. And on tv in the blood lab, the Chirpy Weather People are talking about this—it was the kind of Windy Day you—as well as Pooh—will talk about for weeks. And the Chirpy Weather Boy says, “We had 92-mile-an-hour winds in Texas on Monday, and today they’ve hit Pennsylvania. . . .” and he goes on to talk about the winds there. And one of the Blood Lab People says,
“Did you hear that? He said we had 90 MPH winds in Midland yesterday.”
BLP #2 “Huh. It didn’t seem that windy yesterday.”
BLP #3 “No, it wasn’t. It was windy on Monday, though. I wonder how windy it was on Monday if it was 90 mph yesterday.”
BLP #4 “They said it was 62 mph, but that wasn’t yesterday, it was on Monday. I wonder how windy it was yesterday.”
“Well, he said yesterday.”
“I don’t think it was 90 mph, do you?”
“No, it didn’t seem that high.”
“It sure was blowing, though. It might have been 90 mph.”
And I’m gritting my teeth, listening to this, trying to keep from leaping to my feet and going, “Listen, people! If you’re going to listen to the fucking television, pay attention and get it right! He said MONDAY, not yesterday; and he said TEXAS, not Midland. Meaning that somewhere in Texas, on Monday, there was a recorded wind speed of 92-miles-per-hour.”
But I realize they’re just making conversation, bonding in the blood lab, keeping each other company. They don’t care how hard the wind blew or when or where. So I ungrit my teeth and go back to searching for errors in Mental Floss, which is my Newest Hobby.
I move over as a young woman pushes a larger, older woman in a wheelchair out into the foyer. She comes back in and uses the phone to call for a ride. A man comes in, carrying with him wafts of cigarette smoke.
I hate cigarette smoke. I grew up with two chain smokers, traveling the highways of the western USA in a big boat of a Buick with the windows rolled up and both parents smoking like chimneys. My childhood was an endless string of upper respiratory infections and experimental allergy treatments—a special diet in Moab, painful once-a-week injections in Burlington, a tonsillectomy in Littleton. When, in high school, they did all the allergy tests and told my parents I was allergic to cigarette smoke, they were disdainful. They had no trouble believing that I was allergic to cats and dogs, rabbits and geese, every kind of tree and flower and weed on the whole entire test. But not cigarette smoke. Neither one of them ever believed that.
I have to say that, on the whole, smokers are an incredibly selfish bunch of people. They believe in their right to smoke over everyone else’s right to breathe smoke-free air. They make fun of you if you don’t want to be around smoke (I worked with a bunch of heavy smokers at Animal Control, that Fun House I told you about last week—there were only two of us (the two Sticks in the Mud who didn’t have any desire to shoot up in the kennels or snort lines off the neutering table) who didn’t smoke, and the others delighted in trying to fill the office as full of smoke as possible, just to annoy us and make fun of our hacking. The whole not-smoking-in-public-buildings thing just pisses the hell out of smokers. I watch them smoking furiously right up until the moment they walk through the door of The Wal-Mart, angrily flicking their still-glowing cigarette into the empty shopping baskets; and on their way out, a new cigarette is in their hand, on its way to their lips, when they leave the check-out line. They hit the door, and that sucker’s lit up and smokin’. Smokers are, generally—and remember:  the exception proves the rule; so if you’re a smoker who is always just a cuddly superannuated Girl Scout of a smoker, completely considerate of non-smokers and, gee, fresh air, in every way, the fact that your thoughtfulness is so remarkable just proves its complete divergence from the norm.
So I’m sitting there, enveloped in smoke, and I figure this asshole has taken his last puff right outside the door and is carrying the smoke in with him. I grumble to myself about Selfish Fucking Smokers (The EGE and I grumble about this all the time, only he leaves out the “fucking” part. I take up the slack, however) and blow my nose. But even after this guy leaves, I keep smelling smoke. My eyes start to burn and water, and my throat gets itchy. I look around, and the pregnant woman looks pained. She asks where the smoke’s coming from, and someone gets up and looks outside and comes back and reports that the large old woman in the wheelchair is sitting in the foyer, right outside the door, smoking. The pregnant woman starts complaining, kind of kvetching over and over about this. You don’t blame her:  she’s huge, she’s sitting in a waiting room chair with the stains left by the last hugely pregnant woman who was sent into early labor by smoke, she’s trying to take care of herself, and someone just outside the door is sitting in a wheelchair, smoking away.
So I go find a nurse and tell her that we’re dying in here, that we can’t breathe. And she’s moderately sympathetic until I pull The Trump Card:  There’s a Pregnant Woman who doesn’t need to be exposed to this smoke. Ah, the marvels of having a pregnant woman on your side! They’re like the Ace, the Secret Weapon. It’s like having God in the waiting room. Who can ignore that?
The nurse goes out and says something and comes back in shaking her head and reporting that she got them to move outside.  A little while later, the young woman who was with the Large Old Smoking Woman comes in to use the phone again and apologizes, saying, “I told her she couldn’t smoke there, but you know how they are.” I’m thinking, “No, I don’t know how they are. She’s in a wheelchair; what can she do? She lights up, you just keep on wheeling her fat ass out into the parking lot.”
But I didn’t say that. I’m trying—I’m really, really trying—to work on the whole Compassion Thang. Smokers make it even tougher than it already is. Sure, they have an addiction. Sure, it’s tough to quit (my mother tried for years before she finally quit, too late to keep her from having congestive heart failure and emphysema, but still:  she did finally quit). But here’s the thing: if you’ve got a nasty, socially-offensive, dangerous habit, what do you do? Say you like to build little bombs. Do you do it at the table at McDonald’s? No, you do not. Say you like to cut yourself with a razor. Do you do that at the bus stop? No, you do not. You don’t have sex with sheep in the parking lot at the Wal-Mart, and you don’t shoot up in the history section at the library. You do those things in the privacy of your own home, right? And I do not care what you do in your own home. Well, except for messing with the sheep:  leave them out of it, OK? In fact, as long as you leave children and animals alone, I do not give a rat’s ass what you do in your house. You can smoke and shoot up and snort and have sex with whomever and in whatever combination all damn day long. Just 1) keep the windows closed and 2) don’t tell me about it. Oh, and 3) change your clothes before you go out, because—whatever it is—we don’t want to smell it on you.
So. The waiting room reeked.  The Pregnant Woman keeps up a steady stream of grousing. She’s entitled. Finally, finally they call me in.
We do paperwork, the young nurse reads the instructions—apparently they hardly ever test for B12 and K and stuff, and she has to find the code and read how to draw and store the blood. I ask if she’s going to have trouble finding a vein among the ink, and she says she finds them by touch, rather than by sight. Good to know. And odd to realize it’s been that long since I’ve had blood work done:  since before the last couple of tattoos.
First, though, she has to prepare the vacuum tubes. And one of them has to be for the vitamin K test, and the blood has to be kept from exposure to light. How to do this? She gets some of that tacky (as in sticky, not as in cheap and ugly, because it’s actually quit a lovely purple) fabric stuff—what is that stuff, anyway? That sticks to itself but isn’t sticky? And she wraps it around the inner tube. But then it won’t fit inside the vacuum tube. She’s kind of just thrown it around the tube, and so it’s all bulky and lumpy. I watch her trying to force it in and grimace and say, “You want me to wrap that for you while you get everything ready?” And she smiles and says, no, she’s got it. Only she doesn’t. It’s a lumpy, bulky mess. With, omigod! wrinkles! And it won’t fit. And she unwraps it and tries again, hurriedly throwing it around the tube again. I offer again. She smiles, grimly. She leaves and goes to get another nurse and asks her how she does it. And the other nurse shows her, with yet more purple stuff, and her version is too bulky, too. I’m sitting there, watching them, my fingers twitching. If they’d slow down and do this Right, there’d be plenty of room for the inside tube, all NEATLY wrapped, to fit inside the vacuum tube. I offer again. They smile, no, no, this is fine.
It doesn’t fit. The second nurse says, oh, just push the fabric stuff down and put it in. The other one asks, but then won’t it be exposed to light? And the other one shrugs and says, not that big a deal. Only it IS, to ME; because all this testing is MY blood, and it’s expensive, and I am NOT coming back to do it over again.
And I reach over and grab the tube from them and say, “I’m sorry, but y’all are driving me nuts. Give me some of that stuff.” And they look at each other and hand me the purple stuff. And I wrap the tube in my anal-retentive way, overlapping only the tiniest bit for complete coverage, no wrinkles! no bulges!
And of course it’s perfect. And it slides right into the tube as if it had been made for that.
And I can see them rolling their eyes at each other, and I think, shit: these are the people who are going to stick the Giant Spike  of Death into my arm, and now I’ve shown them up with My Fabulous Anal-Retentive Wrapping Technique.
I’m doomed.
The second nurse leaves, and the first nurse ties off my arm and sticks in the needle. I do not watch this. I don’t watch needles going into my flesh. This used to not bother me, back when I gave myself allergy injections twice a week. But then, years later, I was donating blood, and I made the mistake of looking over at my arm, and there was this huge, giganti-normous metal POLE sticking up out of my flesh, pinning me to the arm of the chair, and the world kind of swam before my eyes (turned out I was anemic, but still). So now I never watch the needles.
So I’m looking the other way, and she’s muttering and kind of rolling the needle around in there, and then she says, “Hang on a minute; I’ll be right back,” and she leaves the room. With the needle kind of flopping around in my arm. I know this because I can feel it. It is not a pleasant feeling. I do not, of course, look. The second nurse comes back, finds the vein, and begins to drain me dry.
She makes conversation, asking me if my husband is Coach Zachery and telling me when she had him in school—the usual conversation I have almost everywhere I go—all the while filling up tube after tube with my blood. Six tubes in all. I can feel myself shrinking and drying out, turning into a wisp of pale skin, ready to fall in a husk when they take out the spike. Which they finally do.
Whew. Well, the anti-climactic part, as far as interesting-ness goes, is the lab report. It actually IS quite interesting, though, to my fellow vegans/vegetarians. They tell us all these stories about malnutrition, and how we have to be so careful and do all this extra stuff to make sure we get the nutrients we need. That’s why I had all this blood work: the only animal product I eat is cheese, and I don’t eat a whole lot of that. I take a multi-vitamin and some other supplements (C, calcium with D), but I don’t do a lot, and I don’t eat weird foods. The chiropractor thought I’d be deficient in D, B12, B6, maybe. Thyroid. The EGE was betting I’d be anemic.
Ha. My white count is a little low, but other than that? Pretty much perfect. Those scary tales of how Centrum doesn’t dissolve and is just an expensive colorant for urine? Bunk. The chiropractor had been telling me, all last week, that the problem with people who don’t eat meat is that it’s hard for them to get everything they need, and he seemed just the tiniest bit disappointed when he showed me the results and said, “You’re pretty healthy, actually.”
Now if I can just avoid cigarette smoke and not run afoul of pregnant women, I’ll be doing great.