I was walking home this evening. Earplugs in my ears, shopping bag in my hand, comic books in my bag, adventure in the comics. Caught sight of an Idea passing on the street. It's not rare for me to find Ideas, but they're not all worth bringing home. I glanced, casual, across the road. Was this a keeper? Difficult to tell. Didn't want to stare; staring is rude. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? I sneakitypeaked another look. Still no sign of this Idea's true worth. The amount of times I've brought an Idea home and found that it had no distance to it, no development beyond its basic form. Whole evenings wasted on selfish Ideas that take up time and effort but don't want to change, to grow, to become more than an Idea.
You see (and I'm sure you're already aware of this fact), a real Idea is an unfinished thing. Not a really even a creature in its own right. An Idea isn't the final product, the end-in-sight, not even the foundations of the thing. And the best Ideas aren't those which are nearest to realisation; no, indeed, the best Ideas are those which change the most, the ones which flex and purr under your encouraging eye and evolve into a wild beast that stalks you at home and at work, never out of your mind. Sometimes they'll catch you unawares and wake you in the night, keen to show you all their strange new facets.
So, of course, I was curious. This, today, would this be a rare Great Idea? Or one of those all-too-common lazy Ideas, with no desire to grow and change? I couldn't tell. I decided it wasn't worth the risk.
I wasn't the only one doing the look-up-and-down. The Idea had spotted me. It was doing its own sizing up. This has happened before. Just last week, an Idea followed me for a several hundred yards before I shook it loose as dead weight with no interest. I thought I'd managed to get rid of this one too, but I guess it gave ME the slip.
Because it just found me in my room.
Created: Jul 29, 2010Document Media