The Agony and the Ecstacy
Work study is such a goddamn joke. Not even in the waste of time sense, it's literally hilarious. When you're not lugging 16mm prints of 'Blow Job' back and forth between NYU and the MOMA, you're sitting around trying to read in between the sound of drills and the sporadic asbestos showers. But construction can't stop, because then we can't move into our new space next semester, resulting in another barren, pointless four months of transition time. It's been a goddamn year and I want to see 'six hours to live'. And i'll be damned if i have to wait another year for it. In the meantime our health is in jeopardy. It's progressed beyond the point of the fact of my boss's wearing a gas mask being funny, now it's something we don't even think twice about. However I must admit that I did enjoy it last week when I got to leave early on a 'trauma break', on account of a suspicious smell of gas on the third floor. Some things are too priceless to be entirely obnoxious.