Someone gave me random sentence and I tried to write something:
——
“I love testosterone”. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do and the guide did say one should start with the first thing that came to your head and continue from there. The only problem being, she wasn’t quite sure in what direction she should continue or what this hould be about and if anyone would even read this and…
There. Doing it again. Quite to the contrary of popular belief, thinking is rarely the first step of great inventions. The first few yards are mostly made by people who make mistakes, all the time, until something works. THEN they think about it. She wasn’t one of those, or rather, she had been, but it had been brutally beaten out of her through many years of repetitive schoolwork and the ever-present mantra of researching and thinking first.
The usual project as imagined by most educational personell would go as follows: Think, research, fight about it with a friend, write a thesis proposal and repeat. Most poeple will not notice the missing part in this. The part where theory transcends into reality. The actual ‘doing stuff’ part.
It wasn’t that she hated the thinking and discussing, she liked that quite a bit. Relationships had been put into serious danger with her passionate way of arguing. But, those were seldom about the topics at hand, but rather about the act of discussion itself. But she always felt like something was missing, something important.
Whenever others talked about their life or latest projects which usually involved some form of housework or monetary aquisition, she couldn’t help but yawn. None of the things others poured their energy into seemed to be of any worth to her. What was the point if it wasn’t going to be awesome? What was the point if she couldn’t blow someones mind?
There was a time when she didn’t think this much, when she just took all that for granted and just did stuff. Anything. It was just clear, there was no question that needed to be asked or thought about. At least, this is the way she liked to remember it.
It took her a long time to realize that not many people wanted to change the world, that not everyone wanted to create something to make others wonder. Actually, there seem to be very few poeple who have kept the passionate fire of childhood, as she likes to think of it. Most just want to be comfortable and live quietly or, to put it in a word, lame.
She didn’t, she wanted to be a dragon and set the world on fire. She wanted to take the worlds in her hands, tear it to pieces and rebuild it anew. She wanted to be goddess and devil, destroyer and granter of life. She wanted extremes. What she didn’t want, was to write a story about testosterone.
She wanted the stories to be written about her.