1. CREATIVE PEOPLE HAVE A GREAT DEAL OF PHYSICAL ENERGY, BUT THEY'RE ALSO OFTEN QUIET AND AT REST.
They work long hours, with great concentration, while projecting an aura of freshness and enthusiasm.
2. CREATIVE PEOPLE TEND TO BE SMART YET NAIVE AT THE SAME TIME.
“It involves fluency, or the ability to generate a great quantity of ideas; flexibility, or the ability to switch from one perspective to another; and originality in picking unusual associations of ideas. These are the dimensions of thinking that most creativity tests measure and that most workshops try to enhance.”
3. CREATIVE PEOPLE COMBINE PLAYFULNESS AND DISCIPLINE, OR RESPONSIBILITY AND IRRESPONSIBILITY.
But this playfulness doesn't go very far without its antithesis, a quality of doggedness, endurance, and perseverance.
“Despite the carefree air that many creative people affect, most of them work late into the night and persist when less driven individuals would not. Vasari wrote in 1550 that when Renaissance painter Paolo Uccello was working out the laws of visual perspective, he would walk back and forth all night, muttering to himself: "What a beautiful thing is this perspective!" while his wife called him back to bed with no success.”
4.CREATIVE PEOPLE ALTERNATE BETWEEN IMAGINATION AND FANTASY, AND A ROOTED SENSE OF REALITY.
Great art and great science involve a leap of imagination into a world that is different from the present.
5. CREATIVE PEOPLE TEND TO BE BOTH EXTROVERTED AND INTROVERTED.
We're usually one or the other, either preferring to be in the thick of crowds or sitting on the sidelines and observing the passing show. Creative individuals, on the other hand, seem to exhibit both traits simultaneously.
6. CREATIVE PEOPLE ARE HUMBLE AND PROUD AT THE SAME TIME.
It is remarkable to meet a famous person who you expect to be arrogant or supercilious, only to encounter self-deprecation and shyness instead.
7. CREATIVE PEOPLE, TO AN EXTENT, ESCAPE RIGID GENDER ROLE STEREOTYPING.
When tests of masculinity and femininity are given to young people, over and over one finds that creative and talented girls are more dominant and tough than other girls, and creative boys are more sensitive and less aggressive than their male peers.
8. CREATIVE PEOPLE ARE BOTH REBELLIOUS AND CONSERVATIVE.
It is impossible to be creative without having first internalized an area of culture. So it's difficult to see how a person can be creative without being both traditional and conservative and at the same time rebellious and iconoclastic.
9.MOST CREATIVE PEOPLE ARE VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT THEIR WORK, YET THEY CAN BE EXTREMELY OBJECTIVE ABOUT IT AS WELL.
Without the passion, we soon lose interest in a difficult task. Yet without being objective about it, our work is not very good and lacks credibility. Here is how the historian Natalie Davis puts it:
"I think it is very important to find a way to be detached from what you write, so that you can't be so identified with your work that you can't accept criticism and response, and that is the danger of having as much affect as I do. But I am aware of that and of when I think it is particularly important to detach oneself from the work, and that is something where age really does help."
10. CREATIVE PEOPLE'S OPENNESS AND SENSITIVITY OFTEN EXPOSES THEM TO SUFFERING AND PAIN, YET ALSO TO A GREAT DEAL OF ENJOYMENT.
“Perhaps the most important quality, the one that is most consistently present in all creative individuals, is the ability to enjoy the process of creation for its own sake. Without this trait, poets would give up striving for perfection and would write commercial jingles, economists would work for banks where they would earn at least twice as much as they do at universities, and physicists would stop doing basic research and join industrial laboratories where the conditions are better and the expectations more predictable.”
Article from :http://forum.facmedicine.com/threads/10-paradoxical-traits-of-creative-people.17167/
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 3, 2013
Miles Away!!
The circle of 'loading' was ticking across the screen and with every completed circle that the link did not open was making me curse my internet connection and the website. I was looking for the train's scheduled departure from the Jodhpur Railway Station. My brother had already gotten late to pack his stuff and he was moving back to his last semester with his wing-mates of the 4 year degree course at IIT Kanpur. He, although, had another year at hand for his Integrated Dual Degree course.
Finally, the circle of doom ended, to show me a ray of hope. 26: 18 Hrs. He still had 20 minutes to make before it departs. The station is some 10 minutes from our place, including the traffic congestion time to be expected at this hour. 26 Hours. What is that? 'Hey, I can't find the keys to the scooter' my Mom shouted. I ran across the house, which was seeming palatial at this moment to find that petty small key. It is in a key-chain with a metal circle...has one black square capped key and one blue round capped key. The tables, the key-holders, the shelves, the bed on which lay a thousand things which had been sorted by Bhai.
Shit.
It must be in the scooter itself. They had just gotten back from bazaar. Screamed from the top of my voice,'You come outside. I got it.' The scooter kicked and vroom-ed. It was real dark outside, and my scooter headlights don't work. I just rode, rash and everywhere I could, to reach ASAP.
'Beta, he has forgotten his packed food. What will he eat tomorrow?' asked my mother from behind. 'Take a U-turn'. Nopes, this 21 year old can take anything from the pantry. 'Mom, he'll find out something to eat.' 'I have made him gujiyas and mathri'. All the preparation she has been doing since the last 2 days...waking up late night to chat with us and getting up early mornings to make them without our help, along-with preparing all the delicacies that we are fond of, for the lunches and dinners. The heart shed a tear and I, emotionally bowled, turned back and rushed to home. Bhai had already gone with Daddy on the another scooter. We were having a part of his luggage with us.
We cruised home, she picked the packed food. 26: 17 Hrs. We can't make it. Called Daddy, he told me to come to the next station, which was indeed farther from our home. So now, we zoomed in the other direction, more like the car-made-with-dots game we had in those hald-held video games... the first video game my generation ever played.
The next lane I take a left turn and I am done. Next turn, all dingy, no lights. What the hell!! Am I in the wrong lane? As the houses were breezing away with every microsecond, the realization hit. It IS a wrong lane. Screeching Brakes. Scooter stopped. It had actually stopped. Shit. Get down, Mom. She got down.
'How is she doing in her sasuraal? How are her in-laws?'
Where in this dark lonely lane is someone speaking to my mom about me? Turning the scooter, I kicked and looked up for a second. It was mom's cousin. She and her husband were talking to mom.
'She is doing good.' Start, you damn machine. I pulled the choke cable. 'They are very good people'.
'Mom, come'. 'She feels absolutely like home.'
MOOOOOM!! She finally sat. We went back and took the turn, one before to which we had taken. Gave the parcel. Could just hand it over and the train departed.
Returning back to the place where I had literally stranded my scooter and told mom to stand next to it to prevent any 'lifting' events, I could see that she had found yet another one to speak to.
Gosh, Mommies can r-e-a-lly talk around. A few steps ahead, and I could sense someone familiar. The clock was nano-seconding, my heart was going L-U-B....silence....D-U-B....silence...LubDubLubDubLubDub...palpitating, my footsteps went to jogging to running to sprinting. One tear fell down the cheek, the next second it was a waterfall. Eyes could see the silhouette, then the face and now only the eyes were there in the complete visual field. Holding me glued. The world, the place, the weather, the situation didn't matter anymore. Extending my arms and embracing her into my territory, I clinched her across my chest, so that not a molecule's distance she is from me.
There was so much to be said, but only howling cries could come out.
I had met her after 9 long months. Her, without whom my life seemed futile, unhappy, incomplete.
Two inseparable souls, best buddies, worst enemies, born from the very same womb....My eldah sissy, who was now carrying a small (not-noticeable) womb in herself. Cries that were coming in happiness were drenching me. My collar had gotten wet. And as my cheek rubbed against it, I could feel it was also as wet as mine. I opened my eyes. There was a bright light in the surrounding, and as my eyes slowly focussed I could see the pillow wet with tears, my nose stuffed, and my room... where I lay on the bed.
It was morning. A pleasant one. I had an unfulfilled dream to look forward to.
 |
| From Backgrounds HD: Android App |
Shit.
It must be in the scooter itself. They had just gotten back from bazaar. Screamed from the top of my voice,'You come outside. I got it.' The scooter kicked and vroom-ed. It was real dark outside, and my scooter headlights don't work. I just rode, rash and everywhere I could, to reach ASAP.
'Beta, he has forgotten his packed food. What will he eat tomorrow?' asked my mother from behind. 'Take a U-turn'. Nopes, this 21 year old can take anything from the pantry. 'Mom, he'll find out something to eat.' 'I have made him gujiyas and mathri'. All the preparation she has been doing since the last 2 days...waking up late night to chat with us and getting up early mornings to make them without our help, along-with preparing all the delicacies that we are fond of, for the lunches and dinners. The heart shed a tear and I, emotionally bowled, turned back and rushed to home. Bhai had already gone with Daddy on the another scooter. We were having a part of his luggage with us.
We cruised home, she picked the packed food. 26: 17 Hrs. We can't make it. Called Daddy, he told me to come to the next station, which was indeed farther from our home. So now, we zoomed in the other direction, more like the car-made-with-dots game we had in those hald-held video games... the first video game my generation ever played.
The next lane I take a left turn and I am done. Next turn, all dingy, no lights. What the hell!! Am I in the wrong lane? As the houses were breezing away with every microsecond, the realization hit. It IS a wrong lane. Screeching Brakes. Scooter stopped. It had actually stopped. Shit. Get down, Mom. She got down.
'How is she doing in her sasuraal? How are her in-laws?'
Where in this dark lonely lane is someone speaking to my mom about me? Turning the scooter, I kicked and looked up for a second. It was mom's cousin. She and her husband were talking to mom.
'She is doing good.' Start, you damn machine. I pulled the choke cable. 'They are very good people'.
'Mom, come'. 'She feels absolutely like home.'
MOOOOOM!! She finally sat. We went back and took the turn, one before to which we had taken. Gave the parcel. Could just hand it over and the train departed.
Returning back to the place where I had literally stranded my scooter and told mom to stand next to it to prevent any 'lifting' events, I could see that she had found yet another one to speak to.
Gosh, Mommies can r-e-a-lly talk around. A few steps ahead, and I could sense someone familiar. The clock was nano-seconding, my heart was going L-U-B....silence....D-U-B....silence...LubDubLubDubLubDub...palpitating, my footsteps went to jogging to running to sprinting. One tear fell down the cheek, the next second it was a waterfall. Eyes could see the silhouette, then the face and now only the eyes were there in the complete visual field. Holding me glued. The world, the place, the weather, the situation didn't matter anymore. Extending my arms and embracing her into my territory, I clinched her across my chest, so that not a molecule's distance she is from me.
There was so much to be said, but only howling cries could come out.
I had met her after 9 long months. Her, without whom my life seemed futile, unhappy, incomplete.
 |
| From Backgrounds HD : Android App |
Two inseparable souls, best buddies, worst enemies, born from the very same womb....My eldah sissy, who was now carrying a small (not-noticeable) womb in herself. Cries that were coming in happiness were drenching me. My collar had gotten wet. And as my cheek rubbed against it, I could feel it was also as wet as mine. I opened my eyes. There was a bright light in the surrounding, and as my eyes slowly focussed I could see the pillow wet with tears, my nose stuffed, and my room... where I lay on the bed.
It was morning. A pleasant one. I had an unfulfilled dream to look forward to.
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