I’m incapable of sitting around doing nothing so my hands find things to turn into adult fidget spinners. I’m designed to fidget. I have no science to back my theory of Genetic Fidgitery but just ride with me on it.
I have notebooks and bits of paper filled with random doodles and thoughts – most of which collect dust until I toss them in a spasm of tidiness. I’m one of those people who tears apart a paper cup to create little dioramas when I’m out having coffee with friends. I’ve destroyed hundreds of paper clips in meetings. Worse still, I’ll carefully tear the label off beer bottles and fold them into little creatures. I’m paying attention to the conversations around me, It’s just my hands start fidgeting. A friend recently threatened to buy me a child’s toybox so I’d have things to play with.
Sometimes I see something, a shape usually, that triggers an idea that plunges me down a rabbit hole of silly ideas. Recently, while having a mediocre coffee in a place that will remain unnamed – forgive me espresso gods – I kept staring at the clip art coffee bean on the back of the bag. With the right flourishes, it would make a great badge for the magazine and ended up with Killer Bean:
If that isn’t the name of an espresso bar, then it damn well should be.