I have found that people will go mad trying to satisfy their curiosity. That is why the mad scientist stereotype exists: “Must… strip apart… every… hidden thing… discovery is… everything… must…” Throw in a mwuhaha for good measure.
But I am a kind human being, not willing insanity on anyone else (having tasted it myself as a junior high teacher); so I will reveal the dark secrets of PlasticMind. Why Plastic? Why Mind? What nightmare-inducing drug, you ask, were you taking to come up with such a name? I’m afraid, like many things in life, the reality is much less exciting than the imagination or anticipation of it.
It all started five years ago, as an assignment for a graphic design course I was taking in college. I needed to create a brand name, then advertise it. So I drew a blonde-haired bowling-ball and thought (oddly enough) of myself and the plastic-like state of my mind.
And that’s it.
You must all be disappointed; I suppose could make up something more creative. But, ah well. No “converted drug-pusher” story. No “Lassie saved me” story. Just a guy and his PlasticMind.
