San Diego Momma (SDM): Hi, My Creativity! It’s nice to finally sit down with you. You’re always coming and going.
My Creativity: Yeah, well I hate to be tied down.
SDM: I noticed. So let’s get started! Where were you born?
My Creativity: I was born in the fertile peat of your imagination, under dark red skies, over rough-hewn thresholds and betwixt tawny stars that dot the black night.
SDM: Wow. That’s sorta Peter Pan gothicy, poetic, yet nutty.
My Creativity: Welcome to your brain, baby.
SDM (clearing throat): Well, yes, um, what can you tell me about your parents?
My Creativity: I don’t like to talk about them much. Let’s just say they didn’t get along.
SDM: Can you tell me anything about them?
My Creativity (sighing): My dad was a video game salesman. My mom was a night nurse.
SDM: OK. What do you like to do in your spare time?
My Creativity: Play hide and seek, take long vacations, avoid reality.
SDM: Sounds like you have a pretty full leisure schedule.
My Creativity (shrugging): Yeah. You gonna eat that?
SDM: It’s a keyboard.
My Creativity: I eat everything.
SDM (offering my free floating anxiety beautifully disguised as a petit four): How about this instead?
My Creativity: Nom nom nom.
That was…a bit acrid.
SDM (changing subject): So look. I’m just going to come right out and say it. Is it possible for you to be a little less unpredictable?
My Creativity: Nope, sorry. I just can’t commit to that.
SDM: But why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
My Creativity: You gonna eat that?
SDM: This? (losing patience and holding up a clump of blond(ish) roots) It’s hair, My Creativity. Hair. That I pulled out of my head because you suck.
My Creativity: See here, San Diego Momma. I’m not at your beck and call. It’s not my nature. Now pass that hair over here.
SDM (calming down): So basically, I just have to accept you the way you are?
My Creativity: Precisely.
I can’t be more exact.
SDM: Fine. What is your favorite sound?
My Creativity: I love the sound the Soul makes.
SDM: What sound is that?
My Creativity: It’s like a bell. Or a tinkle.
Yeah, more a tinkle.
SDM: A tinkle?
My Creativity: Yeah, you know. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.
SDM: That doesn’t sound very soul-like.
My Creativity: How would you know?
SDM: Let’s move on. What is your least favorite sound?
My Creativity: Despair. Worst sound ever.
SDM: What sound does despair make?
My Creativity: It’s like, ‘bleeahhhhhhhhhhhhh.’ Very unpleasant.
SDM: Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.
My Creativity: BANG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SDM: What was THAT?
My Creativity: Is that what you prefer? A big noise? Something really impactful? Something that says, ‘HI, I’M DESPAIR. HEAR ME ROAR?’
Have you no conscience lady?
Why would you want despair to be loud? Despair is quiet. Get used to it.
SDM: Well I don’t think I said despair had to be loud, per se. I just…ah, forget it. What moves you? Makes you tick?
My Creativity: Puppies. Rainbows. Glitter. I really do like glitter an awful lot. The ocean. Pink sunsets. Feather boas. Your supple butt.
Hey! Wouldn’t it be funny if people called ‘supple butts,” ‘bupples?’
SDM: But why would people ever allude to supple butts? What is a supple butt? I don’t think it’s a compliment. Probably better to not make a new word for it.
My Creativity (looking at me thoughtfully): Seriously?
SDM: Why are you looking at me like that?
My Creativity: Because I just completely made that up. It’s stupid. Supple butts? Bupples? What? I’m barely paying attention to this interview.
My Creativity: No, not seriously.
I’m just here to mess with you.
SDM (sulking): Why?
My Creativity: It’s what I do! I’m here, I’m not. I’m over there, I’m back over here! Watch my fingers! How many do I have up? Two? Nope! It’s three! I was hiding this one in my palm! Bupples for President! What is a bupple! No one knows! It’s all so ridiculous!
SDM (visibly upset): Well that explains a lot.
My Creativity: Oh don’t take it so hard. You’ll get over it.
So anyway. See you soon.
Oh. And here (puking my anxiety up). Keep this.