In A Holiday Way

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© 2001-2002 R.C. Barajas

reative energy is finite, unfortunately. This week, mine tapped out somewhere around Tuesday, when I was laid low with a short-lived but exhausting virus. The creative window I leave open for this column is a bothersome one, it has a trick sash that shuts with only a whisper of wind. This week, it shut tight on Tuesday. Sorry about that. Just wanted to warn you ahead of time that this column entry will be entirely devoid of any benefits derived by the creative process.

I made a valiant attempt, though. At around 2:00 this morning, I awoke with my heart pounding, thinking I'd heard one of the boys calling for me. I don't know if I was dreaming, or if the cry was merely a one-time bleat of distress. I listened at the top of the stairs for more, but heard nothing. Back in bed, I fought to tone down the minor fall-out from the adrenaline. My mind roamed around for something to quiet it, scrolling through the on-deck jumble that was crowding onto my mental (never actual! God no!) To Do list.

The column loomed like Marley's ghost. I despaired, knowing that damn window was closed. But then an absolutely brilliant idea occurred to me. It was so perfect, so in tune with what I wanted to write on this confusing Christmas of 2001, I slept the rest of the night away, happy to have hit upon the idea that would carry me through column 16.

But ideas that occur to one in the early morning hours often bear striking similarities to ideas that occur to one during drunken hours. They do seem "absolutely brilliant" at the moment of conception, it is true. However, in the cold, unforgiving light of day, they often turn out to be either cheap or hackneyed, cliché, supremely stupid, undoable, or just plain unbalanced.

read on...