Complicating the Uncomplicated

Monkey-WrenchWhile I do not think it is a habit of mine, I’m sure I can be guilty of doing it too from time to time–complicating things for no good reasons, except maybe to stall. Give myself more time to find an excuse to postpone or to evade something altogether. But have you noticed that some people seem to have a knack for complicating the uncomplicated?

You’ll have everyone agree on a simple, straightforward solution, and then this one person will come in and throw a wrench in the whole thing. Then you’ll find yourself thinking about that person’s idea and wonder, “Wait… How is this better? How is this an improvement from Solution A?”

Sadly, most of the time, it’s not. It’s a complication. And I’m not sure what it’s about. Power? Enjoyment? The people who do this regularly or even systematically, do they get some kind of pleasure out of it? Does their brain go: “If you suggest this, everyone will roll their eyes. Won’t that be fun?”

I will admit this, though: I do get pleasure at seeing them fail; at seeing them having to pick up their wrench and shove it in their backpocket to use it at another time. Though I know that other time may come as soon as an hour later; still: I managed to uncomplicate one instance of the uncomplicated that got complicated for nothing. So I win. For a minute or two.


I Have a Shameful Secret


And shameful is not too strong a word. I have stepped into a strange, strange world; one I had no idea even existed up to a just short while ago. That world, my friends, is called the world of fan fiction.


I know, I know. I can’t even tell you how it happened exactly. It’s the good old story of “I was just browsing the Internet, minding my own business, reading some gossips over at, and then boom! I got suck into a vortex.”

It began with me reading some of it. Bad, bad stories—stories in which basic grammar and syntax seem to be mere suggestions. I mean, we have ALL heard of the most infamous fan fiction of the fan fiction kingdom, namely: Fifty Shades of Grey. It doesn’t get much worse than that, does it? However, I also stumbled on good stories, with a great plot and extensive research on historical details of which I would not have even thought. That’s when it happened. The… urge… to write as well.


I try to justify it to myself with excuses like “Hey! Writing is writing. It’s good practice! Those characters have been enjoyed by many, many viewers, so it makes sense that I would enjoy writing for them.” Oh dear.

Well, now that the secret is out, let me head back to my secret donjon (i.e. my desk) and write some more.