Thursday, 18 October 2012

Phoning it in: Imagination as the Ultimate Evil

I've been mixing Nyqil and scotch again. I would call my cold remedy a “Sweet Dream” if it didn't induce waves of nightmares where your legs don't work and Grandma has a knife. It's an attrition remedy, something that stirs up all the evil viruses in you and pushes them out your skin. That's where those nightmares come from, all the evil swirling, so even Grandma in her wool sweater, the one place where the world always feels soft and shapeless and bearable turns over and it's just as out-to-get-you as any other midnight mugging in a Staples parking lot. You wake up soaked in sweat feeling like you've been dragged across asphalt and you have to get up for an hour so your bed dries out and you don't catch your death, but that's the evil leaving you. It's why you feel so fantastic, so Sound of Music-ey when you get over an illness. All the evil has been sweated out and you can run amongst the other humans to throw all the beautiful ideas together, and it feels like harmony as you walk down the crisp autumn streets. It feels so good to be doing something. This will edge out into the usual ambivalence by about 2pm on your first “cured” day, once you remember what life looks like, but getting over a cold rules, is what I'm saying. Feeling good feels good.

I'm blaming this one on kids. It's the kid's fault. There was a family function this weekend with a bunch of sub-4-year-olds running around. I drank some of the imaginary tea, which turned out to be a very real cup of rhinovirus. The kids don't go to school yet, so I don't know how the cesspool of germs they cart around is so potent, so beyond anything my adult body has encountered. As we age, it's not as if were exposed to fewer contagions, what with public transit, workplaces, bars etc. We still get into situations where we're packed together breathing a lot of other people's air and touching the same doorknobs. We just have the immunity for contagions, so we get sick less often as we age. So how do the bugs children have seem to be stronger? Why can't I fight them? How is it that an adult's defences are useless against a pint sized attack?

Is it the childlike creativity? Is it the imaginary tea? Is this the trap? The play, the interaction as the place where the bugs are introduced. Part of being an adult means being allowed your own personal space. It starts at the point where you become too heavy to pick up, so your parents can't sweep you up in their arms whenever they like. That's the beginning of personal space. As we learn that we can actually have our own space our growth in size means the tantrums we throw to enforce that personal space start ramping up into dangerous territory. We stop getting our toys out of a shared chest and start getting our personal controller that only we touch for the duration of the mario-kart session, and obviously video-games mark the end of a shared, imaginative play. The point where play becomes rote, more a matter of re-spawn than re-imagining, and we all become wirelessly connected, sharing the experience but none of the germs.

Imagination is the means through which germs infect us, or rather, it manifests in kids who lack the perceived boundaries we grow as adults and spreads through their willingness to play without them. In childhood, play gives us a reason to ignore the barriers that the learned personal space creates later on, and leads to all the diseases that adults blame on children after-the-fact. Since we can't just crush their little dreams by not drinking the imaginary tea, adults play along, and end up getting the sniffles because of it. Imagine that. A world without sickness is a world without imaginings.

I don't know why we allow this imagination thing, because it turns out it's bad for adults as well. There was a study published this week linking creativity and mental illness, and here's another saying that writers as a group had incidents of mental illness in numbers 20x the general population. Imagination, coming back around to make us ill. Who knew that allowing a person's creativity to chase down it's own ideas would cause an anxiety disorder when it dreams up every possible scenario that could kill a human in every situation that person finds themselves in. Among other things that are bad, like schizophrenia causing the strange, outlying thoughts that can inspire originality in art. I've always thought that creativity was caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, certain neurons misfiring and accidentally creating the ah-ha! moments that people call imagining. It's bad for us, people, and we have to get rid of it. For the sake of our tonsils and our sanity. This means no more mapping DNA structure, no new movies and no new ice cream flavours. Bacon Avacado will be the last innovation to come out of Baskin Robbins. We're shutting down this creativity thing for good.

Wait, I'm also remembering that I washed the dishes after cake, which means I touched every utensil. The boundary might have broke right there and caused the sickness. Never mind the boycott. Continue your imaginings. It's not bad for you. Just never do anything nice for anyone ever again, because it might make you sick.

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