I am a human being—full of mistakes, full of ideas—some bad, some not worth letting escape. If they do get out they may act like bees; swarming to find the next filling thing without any regard for practicality. So some ideas fall into a jar to die in the back of the cupboard. Maybe one day they'll resurface—pressure too much to handle and I'll have no choice but to let the bees look for their pollen to make honey. It may not be so bad after all—letting the swarm escape to make something new for me or anyone unfamiliar. It's only a problem when it's wasps unknowingly released. That, I do apologize for.