Tag: creativity

  • Step One: Don’t Be Weird to the Aliens

    Step One: Don’t Be Weird to the Aliens

    If aliens arrived tomorrow, what’s the first thing you’d ask them?

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    I’ve survived job interviews, blind dates, and one extremely tense potluck, but none of them prepared me for the pressure of greeting an alien.

    My first instinct was to ask “Why are you here?” It felt responsible. Firm. Very “Please fill out this customs form: business or pleasure?”

    But that question shows up with its arms crossed. Nobody’s ever felt welcome after being asked to state their intentions at the door.

    So I swung the other way, toward wonder: “What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen that humans can’t even imagine yet?” Lovely! Poetic! Also deeply presumptuous, because it assumes the aliens know what humans can imagine. I’d basically assigned a stranger homework on arrival.

    Eventually I landed on the one that felt right: “How can I make you feel welcome?” It’s kind. It’s humble. It’s what you say to a houseguest holding a suitcase.

    Then came the obvious snag… what if they’re hostile? I tried adding “…while keeping everyone safe,” which turned it into the world’s most polite hostage negotiation. Still, the idea held up. You can be warm without handing over the keys.

    And then I realized the bigger problem. Maybe leading with any question is the mistake. In some cultures, a barrage of questions at first meeting is rude. In others, it’s a sign you don’t know your place. For all I know, the aliens consider “Hi, what’s your deal?” a declaration of war.

    But alas, the exercise was to come up with a question… so my final answer is: “Welcome! How do introductions work where you’re from? We’d like to understand how you prefer to get to know others, and we’d be glad to share how we do this here on Earth.”

    It’s less “state your purpose” and more “take your time.”

    It asks how they like to meet people, and it offers to share how we do it here. A fair trade, a bit of curiosity… It’s giving “let’s both dip our toes in the water” energy (assuming they have toes).

    Of course, they could respond with silence. Or interpretive dance. Or, a pause followed by “You first.” If it’s the latter, I’ll be ready… I come from a long line of people who will let a casserole go cold rather than be the first one to serve themselves.

  • What’s the Funny Story from Today?

    What’s the Funny Story from Today?

    What are some life hacks that you practice?

    Journaling has always been the “the one that got away” for me. I’ve known of its benefits for ages: stress reduction, self-reflection, a healthier gut flora. But I was never able to find a way to make it work… until a few weeks ago.

    Every time I would start a journaling practice, it would fizzle out in no time like a bad high school crush. 

    I didn’t like writing in a journal. It’s ergonomically challenging to slouch and press down with your pen at this age. Not to mention the small voice that kept insisting: “Hey… me again… sooooooooo are we still really committed to this whole leaving our deepest darkest thoughts lying around thing?” 

    In an effort to get it to back off, I bought a cheap tablet that I kept on airplane mode. It took so long to fire up that all of my entries started with a rant about big tech. Alas, friction is the nemesis of healthy habits. 

    I was about to give up altogether when the instructor in one of my courses assigned us a daily writing practice: Reflect on your day and ask yourself, if you had to do a 2-minute standup comedy from the day, what story would you tell?

    This has hit the sweet spot for me. It feels like a joyful rubix cube for my brain to play with every evening. I don’t write anything fancy… one of my entries said nothing more than this:

    How we still make friends in the same way that kids do: OMG you like unicorns! I like unicorns!!! Wanna be best friends forever??? :) Just replace “unicorns” with whatever adulting rabbit hole you’re in at the moment (meditation, scrapbooking, colourcoded spreadsheets) and perhaps tone down the second sentence slightly.

    As for those moments when I do need somewhere to release intense emotions, existential spirals, or conspiracy theories about how my gut flora is plotting against me… I have one of those LCD writing tablets. Perfect for getting your frustrations out without leaving the evidence lying around. 

  • How to Ruin Your Body With a Paintbrush

    How to Ruin Your Body With a Paintbrush

    Turns out my extinction-level event doesn’t need AI. It has a paintbrush.

    We, as a species, currently seem intent on creating an extinction-level event for ourselves (or letting AI do the job more efficiently). But I want to talk about a much less explored method of self-destruction: art-related injuries.

    Many people stop making art once they’re out of school. I guess I’m an outlier. I missed the memo that said “creativity expires with your student ID.”

    My creative process has always been more like a firehose than a dripping faucet. It comes out fast and furious. Sleep, food, and personal hygiene drop off the radar until I find myself in an exhausted heap on the floor next to some sort of concoction that may or may not make sense to anyone (including me) by morning.

    If I had to explain this in a meme:

    No one: … 

    Me: Here’s a whole set of inner-voices cards nobody asked for, created by vibe-coding non-stop for several days!* 

    No one: … 

    Me: …

    *Vibe-coding: the process of building an app entirely on instinct, hope, and Frappuccinos, wherein you understand roughly 4% of what you just did but it works, so you back away slowly and never touch it again.

    Luckily, my friends know to send out a search party if they haven’t heard from me in a while (or if Find Friends says I’m in the produce section, squeezing mangoes with the confidence of someone who definitely knows what she’s doing).

    Trying to stop the creative firehose when it hits feels like walking past the craft store “just to look.”

    An idea will show up around 7pm and stand there, tapping its foot… just as I’ve closed my iPad and told myself, tonight… I rest! I’ll pretend I have boundaries for about two minutes. Then I’m reopening it, grunting at myself, because apparently the idea knew “tonight I rest” was wishful thinking before I did.

    These days I’m too lazy to get up and work at a proper desk or easel, so I end up hunched over my lap desk on the couch. 

    I wish I could tell you I’ll develop the self-discipline to sit properly when the creative urge strikes. Alas, in those moments my self-discipline has the staying power of a cat who just spotted the red dot of a laser pointer skipping across the floor. 

    So for the last few weeks, my shoulders have been up around my ears and I’ve dug out my Shakti pillow (aka the acupressure pillow). If you’ve been lucky enough to never use one, consider yourself blessed. It’s basically a bed of nails with better branding. 

    The Shakti pillow doesn’t nag. It just sits there… with its spikes pointing viciously in your direction, doing its best “who, me?” impression: Come closer, I won’t hurt you. Maybe just a little, at first. 

    Any creatives out there suffering from art-related injuries, I see you. 

    I’m sure that one day we’ll pass each other in the waiting room of our therapist’s office (when we’re ready to face our refusal to “ergonomically adult”). In the meantime, may your Shakti pillow be gentler than your inner critic, and may your next act of self-destruction end in a half-decent painting.