Lefty love

I wish I was left-handed, I really do. A righty who leans left, my brain is a battlefield where the ever-waging war between logic and creativity results in permanent unrest. I really want the right brain to win, to pull some crafty underdog maneuver on the rigid and disciplined left brain, but victory has not been claimed by either side yet.

My left-handed envy, of course, results from the typical association between the right brain and creativity. Oh, how easy life must be for the left-handed! Poetry and music and artistic expression dripping from them like sweat, wearing beauty as a halo. It's unfair! I imagine that lefties always feel like I do in the brief moments when I transition from sleep to wake, dreaming to reality: feather-light and expansive, floating on fuzzy electric brain currents.

I'm also immediately intrigued by lefties, no matter who they are. A student of Latin, I'm aware of the bad rap that lefties have historically gotten; in Latin, 'sinister' means left and the connotations are obvious. Lefties were treated with suspicion and mistrust and most lefties were forced to switch to their right hands. I find the whole mythology around lefties fascinating, plus they're rare - only 7 to 10 percent of the population.
 
Left is best, no doubt about it. Left is the hand for diamond rings and the political left is certainly my preferred place on the spectrum. Lefties are loose(y) and Righties are tight(y)! Who cares if they can't use normal scissors?? Who wants to be normal anyway?!

I'm green for left and it's a club I can never join. But I can write about all that creativity and that's what I'll do in this blog - post about books and movies and other artistic happenings of interest.  Maybe if I work hard enough (says the disciplined left brain), I can pass for ambidextrous?