Opposites, Attack!
You’d have thought that less than ten posts in, it’d be nigh on impossible to succumb to writers’ block.
WRONG!
**Maz: expertly confounding expectations since 1980**
Actually, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I have about thirty odd ideas on the go at any one time. Inspiration in the form of a post idea or a title isn’t necessarily the challenging part; it’s finishing them and shaping them that’s a hellish, long-winded experience. At least right now.
It's always claimed that a band’s first album is the easiest to make: they’ve had their whole lives to write it! I wouldn’t say anything I’ve done is purely stream of consciousness, but the first posts didn’t need a concerted effort to kick them into shape.
Now however, I’m staring at a screen filled with thumbnails of unrealised ideas, wondering how to flesh them out in a natural, unforced way. Willing them to magically come together and click. Why is this so hard for me? Is it just a dose of the brain fog which comes packaged with a turbulent mind, or am I hardwired to be so inconveniently ham-fisted?
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Snap judgement: I blame my pre-school in Baghdad.
Yup.. definitely all their fault. And they can’t answer back.
Simultaneously a preparation for the strictures of future education, my first concentrated exposure to Arabic, and the doss of all dosses, I was frequently baffled and out of my depth. My abiding memory is gazing wide-eyed at the Lego we couldn’t play with, locked inside a glass cabinet and tantalisingly out of reach.
Torture!
Mitigating the frustration were occasional, barely supervised trips to the play area, risking life and limb on a springless seesaw and a punctured metal slide.
Character forming for sure, but what really left an impression was the peculiarity of the Iraqi Kindergarten Approved™ drawing we were pressed to follow, en masse.
An idyllic, bucolic scene that.. well, it looked a bit like this:
Maaaaybe a house to the left if the teacher was throwing caution to the wind.
Putting the fun in perfunctory.
☑ tHe KIdS dID A cReaTiVe ToDay.
The point is, my relationship with originality and unfettered imagination took a left turn before I’d even started in Year 1. I knew that diligently following orders was encouraged, but my itinerant head wanted to draw something, ANYTHING else: robots, dragons, rainbows. Well, not rainbows.. that would’ve likely prompted a trip to the headmistress for further questioning and corrective instruction…
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OK, look….. perhaps I’m being a little bit unreasonable. It mightn’t solely be down to my school. While I’m playing a juvenile blame game, let’s widen the net a bit further Maybe the cause of my angst is even more inescapable….
Although I grew up in an unsuperstitious household, we were undoubtedly in the minority. Whether it was peacock feathers to ward off the evil eye or lobbing water at a car to guarantee safe travels, symbolic gestures abounded to appease the gods of fate. I still remember my Uncle’s gigantic almanac, nestled on a ledge in his downstairs W.C. Detailed information on what to do 365 days a year, based entirely on your star sign. What a way to start the day!
I’ve always been a bit wary of the whole horoscope business, but despite the almanac’s dry, off-putting forecasts, I’ve always been vaguely intrigued by them. All the sterotypes of a “typical Virgo” on display; curiosity mixed with caution!
Word on the street is that we’re largely perceived as intractable pains in the arse, but surely, hopefully, there must be more there? I decided to do a bit of research to understand more; to see if I’ve been missing out on a piece of the puzzle.
Good old Google Search autocomplete to the rescue! I began with a simple “Why Virgo…
….are (sic) dangerous
…….are (sic) the worst
…….man (sic) ignore (sic) your text (!)
I wish I hadn’t bothered: just look at the sh*t us Autumn babies have to contend with! It all seems a bit bleak.
Mercifully, a few clicks later on some reassuringly old-school websites (Comic Sans and flat grey backgrounds: alive and well), and it turns out we do have some laudible qualities, apparently. We’re:
loving,
faithful,
charitable…..
Nice, nice..I can live with this! Perhaps things aren’t so bad after all. At least my characteristics are generally something to be prou…
…….stubborn,
picky,
uptight,
over reactive,
moody and…
SUSCEPTIBLE
Ugh.
Fine. There you go.. it’s written in the stars.
I won’t return your text, but I’ll care about not doing so, and pick a fight with someone to let off steam.
SEE? That's why I’m so conflicted and adept at making simple things laborious: I was born at the wrong time! Not my fault. Mum, Dad? Surely a bit more pre-planning wouldn't have gone amiss?
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I’d like to add one further bit of compelling evidence to absolve myself completely from blame.
When I’ve a bit of time to kill, I love completing an online test. I’ve done them all. For no particular reason, I might add; I suppose I just find them interesting!
According to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I’m an INFJ, a rare personality type I share, pleasingly, with natural bedfellows Jesus, Nicole Kidman and Hitler.
The narcissism quiz assures me I’ve little to none (though would I be doing these tests if that was true?!) and finally, on the four-colour personality wheel I’m undeniably a green/blue (earthy cool!)
All of that invaluable investment of my time boils down to the conclusion that I’m half logical, analytical and process driven, and the other half instinctive, caring and feeling.
Trouble is, apart from some startlingly sober advice on which personality types to avoid like the plague, these quizzes, inconveniently, don’t tend to tell you what to do. Horoscope almanac, you’re looking more appealing by the minute!
How am I supposed to make this split personality work?! “Let’s do it right” doesn’t want to mix with “let’s do it together”!
Here’s the unpalatable truth of it all: I am, for a million reasons, a precarious mix of head and heart. Both insistent, with a tendency to make themselves known at the most inopportune moments. It’s long been my task to find a way to emulsify and use them aptly to my advantage.
Knowing that I have both in my back pocket, it pays to take a moment to cherry pick; learning when to use each rather than coming at things carrying a full bag of tools:
Wife in tears on the sofa after a hard day? Emotional Maz.
Working through finances? Logical Maz.
But then there’s the blog. And indeed writing my music. And anything else that’s unambiguously creative. That’s tricky. My inner editor is so adept at zooming out and peering at things objectively, and it’s served me well, that I’ve had to learn to gently tone it down.
My starting point is to remember why I’m doing what I’m doing. Playing music is something which makes me feel good, it doesn’t have to be right or perfect. Writing my blog is something I enjoy, reaching out to people and playing with words.
Before beginning any kind of creative task, I take a moment to focus on sitting with what inspired me to approach it in the first place: memories, observations, subtleties. The random images and dreams I’d normally dismiss as generic or quirky can be the genesis of all sorts of unique ideas.
And sometimes, it’s prudent to accept it just isn’t the right day for it. And that’s OK too. Forcing yourself to be artistic and spontaneous is an ugly scene!
So, because I’m a bisected bundle of contradictions, I’ll probably keep feeling guilty for the mental flatlining and logic which can hamper my imagination, but I’ll cut myself some slack. It’ll come.
All you living-in-the-moment free spirits, I’d love to know how you realise your imaginative visions, and stop your inner critics from curtailing them?
Oh look, I’ve finished a post!