Tag: Chris’ Writing

Creativity Crunched

Steve Jobs makes an interesting point:

You know, we don’t grow most of the food we eat. We wear clothes other people make. We speak a language that other people developed. We use a mathematics that other people evolved… I mean, we’re constantly taking things. It’s a wonderful, ecstatic feeling to create something that puts it back in the pool of human experience and knowledge.

Writing has been my creative outlet since college. Whether it is public or private, it is what I do to express my thoughts, feelings, and imagination… to get away from the stuff I have to do.

Learning to balance my school obligations with my other interests has been one of the most difficult tasks this year. Having been away from a school setting, and entering a more intense school setting than I’ve ever experienced has been shocking. Still is, and will probably continue to be so for the next few years as I chase my diploma, a job, a family, etc.

What’s my point? Not sure… just that I agree that being creative, whether on a large or small scale is an incredibly rewarding endeavor.

UPDATE: I just came across this video of Sir Ken Robinson talking about the role of creativity in education at the TED conference.

Back Porch

The back deck was fun. We were sitting under the pines standing tall above the roof of the house. I liked to look up and try to see the sky. The table was gooey in places and I had to watch what I touched. Sticky fingers – like someone rubbed marshmallows all over.”Chris, say grace so we can get started,” mom said.

For a little bit I looked around to make sure that everyone had their hands together and heads down. “God is good, God is great. Let us thank Him for our food. By His hands we must be fed. Thank you, dear Lord for our daily bread.”

And when I finished, we all said, “Amen.”

I looked up fast – before everyone else, as if to check that we were all still there. Mom and dad were by the grill. My little sister sat still, dwarfed by the ugly yellow deck chair.

“Grandpa, how’s the baseball on TV?” I asked. He was sitting at the end of the table with his wooden cane hooked on his chair. I looked his way and my dark head of hair followed.

He muttered for a moment then said, “Who’s so tall they couldn’t see?”

“No. How’s the baseball on TV?” “Oh,” he said, still not answering. He was playing. But I guess he didn’t watch the baseball either. It was static in the background during his nap. My mind moved on. The grill smelled good, but I really just wanted to make s’mores.

Laundromat Man

He slouched on the wooden bench outside of the 24 hour laundromat two blocks from his house. A yellow light hanging by half of its cord dripped shadows on the highlights of the night that lagged reality. The undefined darkness was an insidious vacuum that siphoned the terrors from his forgotten dreams and brought them alive just beyond the edge of illumination. He scratched his beard, black and hooked like velcro, with uncut fingernails as he crossed his right foot over his left knee. The laundromat coughed hot air with each wash cycle, the machines spinning together in an eerie harmony that nulled the rest of night’s noise.

If there were people in this night, they would see a pair of eyes peaking from a black tuft of hair and they would think that it’s been too long since this guy on a bench last spoke to someone. Only a matter of days, but that’s a long time to not share a thought or comment on someone or something. Void – dark – lost were only the beginnings of his untold story. The true horror that haunted him still as he sat alone in front of the laundromat waiting for a month’s worth of laundry to finish.

Velcro

He slouched on the wooden bench outside of the 24 hour laundromat two blocks from his house. A yellow light hanging by half of its cord dripped shadows on the highlights of the night that lagged reality. The undefined darkness was an insidious vacuum that siphoned the terrors from his forgotten dreams and brought them […]

Update 2009: It cut off.

Two People at a Singles Dance

There’s a red schoolhouse along Route 9 between Concord and Portsmouth. During the day four dark windows overlook an empty gravel parking lot with a yellow sign that reads, “Singles Dance Friday Night 8pm.” The dance has taken place for at least a hundred years, the townies say. Generations have depended on this place to […]

Update 2009: It cut off.

What To Write?

Not sure where to begin, so I’ll just write what comes to mind. I’ve been out of it for a week now. Something used to prompt me to post five times a day, regardless of whether or not people read. Now, I’ve got writer’s block for days on end. It’s killing me. I want to blame law school for taking up all of my time. But, that’s not it. I have time. I want to blame BaRAC and legal writing for messing up my approach, but I could never admit that I let those get to me. So, I’m left with looking inward. What usually inspires me? I was thinking about this in Contracts class this morning, needless detail that you don’t need, but will receive (have already received by now). Get this… my big revelation of the day, week, month, year.

There are other people with similar interests. And other people with different interests. On a basic level, this is blatantly obvious. And I apologize for that. But, from a writer / blogger / human interest it makes everything much more interesting.

You either read because you find what I say interesting or you like me. I’m guessing you wouldn’t read out of boredom. Maybe because you hate me, but I don’t know that many people that hate me. Anyway, the point of this dribble is that instead of trying to write about things that interest me all of the time, I should look around and see what other people are doing.

For instance, the room I’m sitting in has about 80 people. I talk to ten or fifteen of them a day because they’re all in my class. They’re all interested in the law (I hope), but not one is really “like” me.

Anyway, this is me attempting to restart my thinking. More later.

OneWord: Differential

The only differential in our hearts is abstract and unknown, like looking in the sky for a black hole by naked eye. We don’t need to know, nor do we want to know about the future out of reach because we’ve got enough on our shoulders to drive us to the ground. And when we look around and wonder what the other sees, “What are you thinking?” is the question of the hour. There’s a single sufficient answer that fills the infinitesimal darkness that leads us on from dawn to dawn, waiting and wanting for more. But, really, in the end, no equation is ideal – only one integral phrase will do. I love you.