Creative Disorder
I tried, for the longest time, to come up with good examples of creative disorder. The thing I came up with first was poetry, reasoning that the use of words to convey information in ways that the words themselves usually don't was an example of disorder. This seemed a little weak to me; after all, the words do have meanings, and those meanings were used to build connections between ideas and feelings, albeit it unexpected connections. The ``unexpected'' part seemed to be a good candidate for an example of disorder, in that unexpectedness is, at the least, a violation of an individual's preconceived order. There seems to be a problem with equating ``unexpected'' with ``disordered,'' though. It just doesn't sit well.
      Then, as often happens, I noticed the forest hiding amongst the trees.
      Subjective experience was the thing that I was looking for. It breaks the rules very nicely.
      I mean, we have wonderful chemical explanations for almost everything that goes on in our brains. None of them even give even a hint of what red ought to look like.
      We can build from molecular interactions to cells to neurons to neural networks (if imperfectly). Nowhere in our rules does the color red show up. It just pops in of its own accord. An alien without sight could dissect a human to his heart's (?) content and never even catch a glimmer of what it would be like to see the color red. The ``explanation'' of sight just isn't there. The experience is subjective, the explanation isn't. Hell, it can't be. Subjective experience is explicable in terms of subjective experience only. If you don't have it, you don't understand it.
      This, to me, is a proper kind of disorder -- things popping up that the most comprehensive laws-of-everything can't even allude to, throwing a divine monkey-wrench into any and all attempts to pigeonhole existence.
      The popular catchphrase for when things that the rules don't predict show up is ``emergence.'' Gimme a Hail Eris.