Bumi (1x05 The King of Omashu)

"Call me crazy, but I think this kid might be on to something."

That's what the captain said when I, a lowly private, showed him my dangerous yet ingenious plan to rid the Southern Ridge of its firebender occupation. It was risky – if the rocks collapsed before we had erected the wood Platypus-Bear, or if Fire Nation scouts had seen us bringing in the barrels of lychee jelly, everything would have fallen through. And you want to know what my plan was?

My, aren't we nosy?

Every battle strategy has a hint of madness. Really, everything done right has a hint of it, but if you try telling someone that their egg-noodle casserole could only be the product of a crazy person, well, they're likely to take offense. Why that could be insulting, I don't really understand.

If you ask me, people in general are pretty crazy about things like that.

Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, platypus-bears. They're fascinating creatures, once you get to know them. Nothing like my dear Flopsie-kins, but they have their own unique charm. It's only their propensity to want to eat you that makes them so unbearable. (un-platypus-bear-able, that is).

I think people are kind of the same way. No, not in their desire to eat people – that would make them cannibals. By the by, have you ever heard of cannibal restaurants? A meal there costs an arm and a leg.

I'm talking about their lack of predictability. See, that is madness. The greatest aspect of creativity is one that lies in surprise. If the ending of a story surprises you, it makes you happy. If the egg-noodle casserole is surprisingly good, you thank the chef (if, on the other hand, it's surprisingly bad—or made in a cannibal restaurant—then you might surprise the host by throwing up on their new rug). If the firebenders are surprised when a jelly-spewing platypus-bear erupts from the ground in front of them, then they run away and you've just saved the country.

And then maybe someday, they'll make you king of that country. Yet another surprise!

People too often delight in their own unoriginality. If it makes sense now, they say, then it will make sense tomorrow. And if it makes sense tomorrow, then they can plan their lives accordingly. Now, I don't have a problem with plans—even when I don't have a plan at all, I have a plan in case my lack of a plan falls through.

Because that's the eternal enemy of plans—change. And everything changes, so really, plans aren't much good, are they? Unless your plan is one of change, which in that case, you're just plain crazy.

The point of plans is to keep the status quo in the face of chaos. But as the Fire Nation might say, why not fight fire with fire? Or was that cookie dough…? Well, I don't like the Fire Nation, and I do like cookie dough, so I'll stick to that.

If insanity is what threatens you, then it doesn't hurt to be a little insane. It's not too crazy to try to make your own surprises. And it's not a great tragedy if you yourself end up being surprised. After all, the unpredictability of life is what makes it worth living. We thrive on not knowing what next week will bring, or the week after that. We do not start our lives by saying, "I want to know that when I'm 115, I'll be an exiled King chained up in a metal box while the Avatar fights to save the world from a devastating threat thousands of miles away."

However, if you did say that, then you probably don't need to be hearing this, as you already are completely out of your mind.