If I Was a Drunk Seagull They’d Call Me TED
Last month I had the opportunity to attend the TEDx Talks in Portland. It's the second year I've been. Each year, I come away with new ideas and ways to think about things I “thought” I already knew about. I can't recommend the experience enough; if you have the opportunity, go.
While sitting in a darkened auditorium with a thousand and six of my closest friends leaning forward in anticipation as the next speaker walks out onto the brightly lit red and black stage, the whole room becoming still so as not to miss a word of the talk. It's hard for me not to imagine what I would say if called on to spend 15 minutes talking in even and earnest tones in an attempt to convince a thousand and twenty-four people (the ushers must listen when they aren't in the hallways complaining about management) of a new idea, or a new way to think of an old concept.
I have some ideas about what my TED talk would be about. The first idea isn't new but certainly worth repeating.
Pay artists!
Just throw money at them for existing and creating.
My other idea is also familiar, but I would love to get people to think about creativity differently.
Creativity is everywhere. We are all creative. It grinds my gears to sparks of flaming irritation when people say, "I don't have a creative bone in my body."
I genuinely want to scream, "Bullshit!!!!"
I have a distant relation whom I've heard claim on several occasions, "I'm not creative" This person is a hairdresser. Not only do they paint and sculpt hair daily they have the talent and power to make people feel confident and gorgeous or cry- either way, it's complete creative control.
Have you ever solved a problem?
That's creativity.
Made a spreadsheet or a pie chart easier to understand with color and bold type?
That's creative.
Have you ever lied to a child about not having any ice cream while your face was full of ice cream?
This is creativity.
I don't see myself being invited to speak at a TED talk anytime soon because those speakers are sedate, steadfast, and intriguing.
I would be loud, erratic, and vulgar because that's what comes out of my face when you put a microphone in my hand- all at volume.
Everyone would know the depths of my depravity.
I would bellow to the crowd like a drunk seagull, "YOU ARE ALL CREATIVE!!!" And I'd want crayons and coloring books under each seat, and I'd go full Oprah, "YOU GET CRAYONS! YOU GET COLORS! SKETCHBOOKS FOR ALL!" The lights would come up and there would be glitter cannons suspended from the ceiling that would all go off in a deafening building-shaking boom, bathing the entire audience in a micro-plastic sparkle tsunami of silver, gold, hot pink, turquoise, and chartreuse.
When I was done, one thousand-six people would be picking glitter out of their hair, nose, and ass crack cleavage for the next six months, but they would also believe they could create ANYTHING! And there would be a trail of glitter everywhere they went as a reminder.
While I won't be invited to stand in the spotlight on a severe black and red stage, please allow me to be your creative cleavage glitter cannon, and believe me when I say YOU ARE CREATIVE!
