9/17/04 You've passed two tests; you're on a roll. You fail the third in your rigorous set of 9. What a speed bump. Let's now ponder everythng from basketweaving to skydiving to arts journalism as possible new career choices. The latter seems interesting and you see an article on it in this week's ArchVoices newsletter. Right on. Screw the system. You don't need them. Better yet, you don't need the headache of professional liability insurance, overhead and all those other wonderful things they don't teach you about in school. Who needs it. You weren't planning on becoming the next FLW anyway. He was a pompous arrogant ass. You're different.
You want more and you want to give back more. Have more of an influence than wasitng your time down at the City with that big pair of scissors you always need in order to cut through the red-tape. There's so much of it sometimes one would venture to guess it's Christmas - but it isn't.
The frustration smacks you on your face. You've failed. Materials and methods. You think you paid attention in those classes and learned the required lessons from your studio projects only to reveal that your reconnaisance of running bonds and other useless facts is less than perfect - less than passing.
You feel like the spelling bee champion who gets stuck on "tongue"-or "diatribe"- or "pusillanimous." You're the heralded freestyle swimmer who also excels in the medley and forgets on turn three to do the breast stroke. Worse yet - you're the invigorating motivational speaker giving the best oral presentation ever- only to realize after the revelry has simmered that your fly is down- and your wearing those cute silky red boxers with the little hearts on them that your wife gave you last Valentine's day.
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