Too Much Mr. Hyde

When things go wrong, I resort to art.

I know this about myself, so there's no need to report me to the Strict People. It's nothing new. I know I should try to be like others, take a deep breath and conform, but it just doesn't work for me. I can only take so much before I need to be creative.

"Or what?" you ask.

That's a complicated question, possibly without an answer.  I have had the opportunity to analyze it, though. The left side of the human brain can do the math, bit for all its accuracy, a staircase is a series of equidistant, linearly connected, perpendicular lines in a two dimensional plane. I live in the world of sweeping spiral staircases festooned with rococo carvings dug deeply into old oak banisters. I am a right-brainer and can't help myself. Somewhere inside I suspect I have no intention of looking for a cure, yet I still feel shame.

The little devil on my shoulder wants to know how come I think things are going badly. Stinker; he knows damn well I'm stumped with a computer programming problem. Ah! A left-brainer's pursuit. No wonder! I was too close to the unhappiness  to see it.

"Now what?" you ask.

Now, I draw, glue, cut, paint. I design, carve, melt, solder. I take a break, pet the cat and watch Dr. House videos - I watch him get ah ha's. Might be contagious. If I could solve my puzzle, I could go back to the left-brain project. Maybe that's what this is all about; I've been Dr. Hyde too long - it's Jeckle's turn. OK: I've got an art journal, Dr. House is on pause, cat's within reach - I'm goin' in. Don't wait up.