Posts Tagged ‘Writing’

                                                                                9 Things Only Highly Creative People Understand

1. They challenge the system.
To put it plainly, highly creative people like to challenge the status quo. They ask why and why not often and embrace alternate values. It may seem like they’re fighting against order, but really, they’re trying to make sense of it.

2. Their creativity is cyclic.
There are times that they paint all day, or stay up all night writing music. There will be other times they don’t produce much of anything. That’s okay. Creativity sometimes runs in cycles.

3. They need their space.
If they retreat to their studios to work, pop in and say hi once in a while but know that they need their space to do what they do.

4. They are focused.
Highly creative people, once their juices are flowing, will be difficult to distract from it. Remember to stay flexible with your schedules.


5. They may have mood swings.
There’s nothing like art to make you swing between joy and depression. They’re smart and they have sensitive hearts. Play your best supporting role.

6. Their work is personal.
They take it personally if something doesn’t turn out like they wanted. Every critique can be seen as validation or condemnation of their work and therefore their worth.

7. They have trouble believing in themselves.
So encourage them.

8. They may have difficulty completing projects.
Again, encouragement is crucial. Highly creative people take their work personally, so tell them how much you love it. Tell them it’s awesome. It is, after all.

9. They see through bullshit.
Watch out, pal. Creative types connect the dots better than most people. They see patterns before the patterns are even clear.

10. They don’t ever really grow up.
Creative people have a childlike sense of wonder. Join them in it once in a while. We’re sure you’ll enjoy it.

By Higher Perspective

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Ignacio is a crusty old bastard.  Or so everyone told me after I met him for the first time.  He was one of those mixed breeds of men, a blood line blended from all the major human food groups.  He had a look of an old warrior, eyes that could penetrate the soul of any man and a laugh that was contagious as any I have ever encountered.

I met him that first time a number of months ago when I asked him to share my table at one of the many over-crowded greasy spoon diners that permeate the Midwest landscape along Interstate 90.  He had an air of “I don’t give a shit” and another one that said “Don’t fuck with me”, yet he seemed amiable enough when he sat down and nodded a thank you in my direction.

“How be ya, son?”, he asked me in an accent that had that a twinge of that “Downeast Mainah” thing going on.

“I recognize that accent.  You from Maine?”, I asked.

“Ayuh” he chuckled as he exaggerated the word, “Born and raised up around a place called Millinocket.  The gateway to nowhere.   Left there to join the military back in 71 and never looked back.  Get up that way to visit once in a while, but wouldn’t move back to live. Pretty country but the politics sucks.  Too many educated idiots making too many regulations to live by. 

“So, what brings you out this way?”, I asked

“Hell, this is probably just another stop along the way, although a longer stop than usual.  Since Vietnam, I really haven’t stopped moving.  I like variety, both in work and in location…..and in my women.” He added with what looked like an innocent grin though it was difficult to tell under his shaggy, salt and pepper beard. 

“Quite the gypsy.  Sounds like you have had an interesting life.”, I said

“Had?…Shit, man…I ain’t dead yet.” He laughed as his plate of home cooked beans and steak was dropped in front of him.  He looked up at the young waitress.

“Thank you, Emma.  Looks and smells great.”

“Any time Roach.”, she said as she walked off.

“Ok. You’re not dead yet.  Any plans for the future? I asked, hoping that it would lead into a longer conversation.  His demeanor and his attitude created this certain curiosity.  There might be a story somewhere inside this man’s life. 

“What was Maine like…growing up”? I asked. “And…Roach?”

He just looked at me with those black eyes of his and said something about Roach being another story.  I accepted that graciously and commenced to eating the greasy cheeseburger I had ordered, along with the greasy fries and my weakness…chocolate milk.

“Growing up in Maine?  Probably like any other backwoods country place during the 50’s.  We never locked our doors; we raised our own meat and vegetables and hunted when we needed to.  Were we poor?  My dad worked hard for little money, but we never were cold or hungry and we enjoyed ourselves as much as any kids of that time.  So, no, we were not poor by those standards.  Using today’s elitist criteria for measuring “poor people”, I would have to say we would probably be called poor today.  God damned government idiots.  Have to put a label on everything, based on unrealistic statistics, just to validate to themselves that they are important and that we are too stupid to take care of ourselves without government assistance.  Shit, what I carry in the treads of my boots has more value than most politicians.”

“Problem with today, son, is the government is running scared.  Politicians are scared of losing their ill-gotten and undeserved benefits and their status with the people is lower than whale shit.  Government agencies have infringed themselves into people’s lives without permission and they are now beginning to understand that the citizens of this country are becoming extremely pissed off.  Rules, regulations, licenses, fees, taxes, spying and a whole shitload of other unnecessary crap.  Ain’t much that does get me riled except the fucking government, religious fanatics….. and thieving insurance companies.” he added with another grin.

“So, who the hell are you”?, he asked.

“My name is Bruce Swanson.  I make my living by writing and photography.  Nothing special, but it pays the bills.” I answered him.

“Shit, that is all that counts.  Doing something you like and earning enough money to get through life.  More people need to follow their dreams but don’t have the cojones to do so.  Be a lot less bitching to listen to if they did.” He said as he finished his plate.

“Anyway, thanks for the chair and have a good one.”,  he said as he pushed his chair from the table, dropped a couple dollars for a tip and headed to the cashier.

For some reason, I liked the coot.  He was opinionated and sometimes vulgar but he was the genuine article.  He wasn’t like the many people I have met that offered little, if any, transparency of their life.  Always trying to impress with exaggerated innuendos of how great they are.  This guy didn’t care one bit if you liked him or not, had actually lived the political history of the social upheaval of the 60’s, of the hippy movement with their “Peace, love, dove and pass the joint” philosophy and the vulgar events of Vietnam.  And due to his long history he could definitely understand that the recent raping of the Constitution by our so-called leaders is a serious problem that would eventually come to a head.  I needed to learn more about this guy.  What actually made him tick and how he faced life with patience, understanding and a slightly off kilter perspective that might make for good reading.  Now all I had to do was figure out a way to get to know him without pissing him off.  This type of guy you don’t piss off.  I needed a plan……(con’t)

Fish Pond, Northern Maine in autumn.

Fish Pond, Northern Maine in autumn.


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A Place called Love….awesome words and photos…check it out


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Color and Words

My world

re-posted by request….

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Some words of wisdom from the saddle….

Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear, or a fool from any direction.

Don’t squat with your spurs on.

Don’t judge people by their relatives.

Behind every successful rancher is a wife who works in town



Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

Don’t interfere with something that ain’t botherin’ you none.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

If it don’t seem like it’s worth the effort, it probably ain’t.

Always drink upstream from the herd.


Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it back into your pocket.

Never miss a good chance to shut up.


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Being that it rained all weekend, and this should not be misconstrued as a complaint as the mid-west surely needs to moisture to placate last year’s drought, I spent some time completing a small goal.  I completed a PowerPoint and a PDF called “My World”.  It consists of photographic compilations and words.  Some words are mine, some are not.  The compilations are my attempts at creative artistic liberties.

We listen daily to the ugliness of the world and sometimes it seems that this ugliness has take precedence over all that is good and beautiful.  Here in this PDF, hopefully, is a tiny respite.

Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops

Sail o’er the canyons and up to the stars

And reach for the heavens and hope for the future

And all that we “can” be, not what we are…John Denver



My world

PowerPoint presentation (with music) that is available soon….

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I recently experienced one of those uplifting periods where I figured many of my semi-creative and pseudo intellectual brain cells went on vacation, or maybe hibernation. Either excuse suffices right at the moment. After sitting in a fog for what seemed like a few eons, I began grasping at any idea, like a Titanic victim frantically clutching for a life-preserver. If water was present in the place I attempt to string words, I would have drowned. During my panic attack, I began to ask a lot of questions, many irrelevant and of little importance outside my cranial cocoon, but I did manage to experience one of those flashes of yeasty light that presents itself just prior to an epiphany.

What are the most asked questions in the world?‘  OK, not all that original, but, hey, I am drowning here. I did the typical search and was overwhelmed by the large, yet seemingly stupid variety of questions posed by those who populate this planet. I apologize. Some questions carried some merit, but not many.


  1. If a number 2 pencil is the most favorite, why is it still a number 2?
  2. If you are driving at the speed of light and you turn your headlights on, what happens?
  3. Why are hemorrhoids called hemorrhoids and not asteroids?

See what I mean? Stupid, non-realistic that distracts from gaining those prizes of wisdom and knowledge. Yes, they are different. Wisdom is the ability to acquire and utilize information to gain power over one’s existence while knowledge is the unorganized array of index cards that one’s brain formulates. Anyway, then there are those universal questions that humans have pondered over for centuries, and have failed to find a valid answer. For the most part….


  1. What is the meaning of life?
  2. Is there a God?
  3. Will I get laid tonight?

Here, there is no specific answer, well, maybe for 1 and 2. #3 is iffy. The best answer I read in my journey to absolute wisdom is as follows:

1. What is the meaning of life?….. This is by far the most perplexing question of any on the list. I have studied many religions and philosophies, some very deeply, and I can tell you that if one common lesson, one essential element of life could be boiled down from them all, it would be: Don’t be an asshole.

No, seriously, that’s it. Just about every world religion says at least that much. I mean, yeah, they say other stuff too, but this is the common ground. This is what they all basically say. I wish I had something fancier to tell you, but if there is a universal truth out there common to all of religion, philosophy and social theory that points to a single successful navigation method to get through life, that’s the one. Don’t be an ass. That’s it. So there you go, and you’re welcome. Shadesbreath

2. Is there a God?….. Yes. Unless I am wrong, in which case, No, there is not. Shadesbreath.

3. Will I get laid tonight?…..This question actually gets asked far more often by people around the world than do the two above. However, because the first two get a great deal more consideration by guys with PhDs (mostly because guys with PhDs already know they aren’t getting laid so they don’t ask anymore), I decided to structure the list the way I have. Anyway, the answer to this universally asked and all-consuming question is: Probably not, unless you are a hot chick, at which point it’s entirely up to you. Shadesbreath.

Alright, I can probably assume that the next most important question here is: What the hell is a Shadesbreathe?….. As I am falling back into a self-induced attempt to limit my words, here is the Answer

So, what is the major point to this entry? Damn, there I go again, another question. Actually, there is none. I am filling the time-space continuum so it will not collapse back onto itself,  adding irrelevant content so as not to disappoint my 3 loyal readers and exercising my fingers as I have been told I need to “get some exercise”, which I can now say, I complied with. The left brain is arguing with the right side and I am not going to engage in their petty debate….So, I guess I will just go out and mow the lawn….

I usually throw in a photo, painting or something that adds some value…..


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