Elisa's Blog
Monday, March 28, 2005
Today, just for a minute, I could almost picture what Mozart must've felt, with the scoring for each instrument of a symphony already completed inside his head, when he could find no ink and paper.

Maybe creating is not the result of an innate desire for aesthetic expression, but a desperate need to silence an incessant whirlwind of thoughts.

Here we have a genius reflecting about genius.

It is at times like this that I wonder just what flurry and whirlwind you have kept to yourself -- and curse the world that has left you without ink and paper.
Ha ha!! Thanks, but you'd be disappointed [shrug]. I was commenting more along the lines that creative expression is (could be) a selfish endeavor, something one does not for others' enjoyment, but because there is too much disorder inside your head: the only way to get rid of it is to write it down (or paint it, set music to it, dance it, etc) so that you can then examine it at your leisure, and when you want; a way to regain control of your thoughts (for in expressing things, your thoughts then become subject to certain rules and orderly conventions), lest the turmoil posess you again at an inopportune moment.

Furthermore, what goes on inside your head at that moment of flurry need not be of genius. Could be something mundane, incorrect, or stupid. (And in my particular case, most often it is). But no worries, it was actually quite lucky for the world that I was nowhere near a computer or a stationary store at the time. ;)
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