Redundant. Redundant.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about creativity. The definition of creativity is essentially a combination of originality and appropriateness. When I write, it always feels terribly unoriginal, and the utility, purpose, or suitability of the words I type remains open to debate.

And yet, here I am. Writing something I’m sure innumerable people before me have expressed before, perhaps more eloquently (or not). How redundant is this post? Who cares? If we were constantly worrying about the originality of our ideas, we’d never get a word out. There’s this thing called historical creativity, it’s what we consider real innovation. When some remarkable individual proposes a wholly new concept to society, something unheard of, that’s historical creativity. The rest is just personal creativity, when a novel bit of information occurs to a person, and they get all excited.

So let’s focus on personal creativity. Maybe it’ll get us to historical creativity. Or it won’t. But that’s perfectly alright. I’m trying to remind myself, you just happen to be privy to this little monologue. With every little idea that springs from me into written form, the screaming on the inside quiets. Isn’t that worth it?

 

 

 

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Voices

I speak, but you don’t hear. I yell and you are shocked. I whisper and you ignore me.

What can I do to make you hear me, must I go back in time to make my voice as loud as yours? What do I have to do for you to stop drowning out my voice with the sound of your own? Will you ever stop trying to enjoy the sound of your own voice, and just listen, instead of asking me to speak louder? Yes, I did eat breakfast, that does not affect my ability to speak, no matter what your illiterate teachers taught you to think about anatomy.

Being louder does not make you more intelligent. It does not give you any right to drown my opinions out. If I speak softly, maybe you should listen more, instead of assuming that I have nothing worthwhile to say.

The loudness is not in my control, the content of what I say is. I cannot speak louder any more than you can stop being a nincompoop whom I abhor listening to.

Just remember, the next time you don’t hear me, you might not be meant to.