When you have an idea, you can hold it close. Wrap it up in brown paper, and save it to pull out on special occasions. Show it off like a baseball trophy. “This is my one great idea I once had,” you could tell people.
But when you are us? That’s not really an option. Ideas are more like a hurricane, flooding our basement and forcing us into action, until we have the leak half-patched and most of the water mopped up, just to make it look nice. And then the next storm comes along, and needs attention. Half baked schemes come to semi-fruition, and then languish, abandoned, discarded.
We are the implementers of bad ideas, the half-mad scientists, the tinkerers. We enact our projects because we must, lest the pressure fill us to bursting. We leave a trail not of destruction, but of creation.
What on earth are we up to today?