Aw heck. I’m sure this has been posted before elsewhere, but I thought it highly amusing that Google Maps could give such terrible directions. It’s pretty obvious what the oversight was in the screen-shot below, but it’s still amusing nonetheless.

Sondra and I had a discussion this morning about getting things done. We’ve both completed projects of various scales in our lives but were trying to figure out why it’s so hard to finish the last step. We focused on creative projects where one starts with but an idea and makes that come to physical reality — step-by-step. It seems like it’s not too hard to get a project started although there is some resistance because there’s not yet a foundation which makes a creative idea alone pretty easy to dispel (except those ones that really nag at you). Once things get rolling it’s even easier because there’s always some next step to strive toward. But then right at the end, it seems the last few steps are just drudgery. We wanted to figure out why.

Since I’ve been on the kick of blaming everything on fear, I decided to do that here too. Like I blogged before, I feel that fear and excitement differ only in one’s attitude: that if you’re anxious, it’s fear, but if you’re joyous, it’s excitement. In both cases, it’s a reaction to your logical mind’s “no answer” reaction — it happens when you don’t have enough information to divine the best course of action … or you just don’t know what’s about to happen at all.

So with the end of a project, all the facets you tried to control are finally put to the test — and then there’s all the things you didn’t think of. Will it be like I thought it would? Will people react to it like I thought? Will it last? Will it fail? — All these unknowns suddenly come to the forefront.

But then we were discussing it and neither of us really felt that we were afraid of finishing a project. Usually we pushed through with either force-of-will or were excited to finish it, but never really “afraid” per se. But I still felt it fit the pattern of fear and the reaction to it: the process of dawdling through the last steps of a project indicate a fear of completion — that anxious reaction to the unknown.

So if there is indeed a fear/excitement (or fexcitement, if you will) reaction to this unknown event, is there a way to uncork it, let it out, and handily finish a project? Why was it that some projects we worked on seemed to never touch that dawdling stage but even accelerated to completion?

Yes.: it’s celebration.

Whenever we had a project that was easy to complete, there was a celebration at the end. That’s what I get from Burning Man: it’s a celebration to declare the completion of projects and the presentation of them.

In fact, the more general case is that one celebrates a rite-of-passage. By celebrating, there’s focus on the opportunity: the new, unknown things that are to come. By not celebrating, it’s a focus on the loss: the absence of what was, and a dreary apprehension toward living without that ever again. For instance, a high-school graduation party celebrates a step toward adulthood, taking focus away from the death of childhood and coercing fear into excitement.

So projects call for a rite-of-passage celebration as well: from “in process” to “done”. Because when a project is completed, the activity stops and the project makes the transition from something that is “to be” to something that “is”. Focusing on the activity of the project and the end of “doing” — and specifically ignoring that transition to a new form — makes it a mourning experience of loss, an unpleasant experience to avoid.

I want to far overuse this technique in the near future, celebrating everything. But then I might skip that step and save it for the “big” things that really need a kick-in-the-pants.

I got to The Bug Jar (219 Monroe Ave.) a bit early just in case but things got started later than usual. I chatted a bit with Dave Merulla of Autumn In Halifax who was interested in what I’d think of the show tonight. Despite my description last week, Dave would be playing things vanilla acoustic style: no “Leaves” (additional members who join him now and then) and no “band in a box” (a reference he made a few years ago to the digital effects he uses).

In the end, the show was excellent. It’s still Dave and still his songs. He was clearly itching to use some effects or have people accompany his playing at times, but he persevered. Afterward he said that he likes to do a few shows all alone like that to shake out the songs. It’s like he’s building a foundation: that the melody and lyrics have to be strong on their own before he fiddles around with adding decoration and style. And they are generally strong songs to start with. He’ll be playing them with “The Leaves” in July at The Little Theatre Café (240 East Ave.).

I’ve come to really appreciate what he’s trying to accomplish. He said that he enjoys playing with additional people for the variation it causes — that there’s always something unknown by doing that. He commented that it’s usually a matter of trying to figure out which of the wheels is going to fall off first. And as such, the band is constantly changing … I said that my notes on bands are thrown way off with this kind of thing: by this time next year, Autumn in Halifax will have a completely different sound, although rooted in the same quality of music.

I got to thinking about how I like to see people do what they’ve done before, but it kind of makes them machines. I already have machines for that: they play back audio recordings. So no matter how many times any band plays something different, there’s always the possibility of revisiting what was through the last CD.

Anyway, the other band up was The Weird Weeds. They do a sort of accessible experimental music — a bit of alternative-rock and with a bit of experimentation and a bit of harmonization. One of their members was nursing some kind of cold with whiskey, but they still did a great job.

I haven’t mentioned it in a while, but today I cut up The Bike With 2 Brains so I could make it into something else. It was kind of sad — I even said goodbye before I put saw-to-frame. But then again, now it’s all new: now it can become other things and I can finally put that chapter to rest.

Sometime in the past year or so, I realized what has been wrong with it. It’s like it’s been sick or something. When I brought it to Burning Man in 2005, it went out and had a life of its own: I brought it to the desert and let people take it away and do whatever they wanted. I designed the project that way and it went well. But ever other time I’ve brought it out, it’s just a thing: a toy to play around with. As such, it’s never been as good as that first time out.

Now I could redo the experiment, but it was hard on me. I had to search for it so I could recover it at the end of the event in 2005 and it was a difficult, stressful, and frustrating experience. I could do things to make it easier to finish that aspect of it, but why? All I would be doing is to try and revisit that first experience.

So now it’s gone: really in pieces. It’ll become some new things this year and I’m excited to get started on those things. Now I can.