What if?
Do you ever wonder "what if"? And when you do, do you actually think about it realistically?
For some reason, this morning I was thinking back to my college days and I recalled the glassblowing class that I dropped. I was overloaded with some crap like calculus and physics, or calculus and philosophy. Or calculus and calculus. Some horrible classes at any rate, almost certainly including calc. (Did I mention that I managed to fail calculus a record number of times?)
I went to the first couple of classes. I even got to handle glass once. It was way cool. I burned the hairs off my forearms getting the glass onto the punty (that's the metal stick that you use to handle the glass). I pulled it out and set it down across the table/chair/thing and started rolling it back and forth. I got to play with the molten glass with the giant metal tweezers. The professor commented on how well I was doing and that I was a natural.
And then I dropped the class. Stupid calculus.
So - what if instead of doing the supposedly responsible thing, I had dropped calc and physics and switched my major to art and started doing glassblowing instead? Boy, think of the possibilities! World famous artist. Studio in New York, showings in Paris, blah blah blah. Or, more realistically, I'd end up making and selling little glass unicorns at RenFests all over the country. Pulling down just enough money to survive, living in a tent, and bathing out of a bucket. Driving a beat up 1977 Winnebago. Hating, with a passion, little glass unicorns.
For some reason, this morning I was thinking back to my college days and I recalled the glassblowing class that I dropped. I was overloaded with some crap like calculus and physics, or calculus and philosophy. Or calculus and calculus. Some horrible classes at any rate, almost certainly including calc. (Did I mention that I managed to fail calculus a record number of times?)
I went to the first couple of classes. I even got to handle glass once. It was way cool. I burned the hairs off my forearms getting the glass onto the punty (that's the metal stick that you use to handle the glass). I pulled it out and set it down across the table/chair/thing and started rolling it back and forth. I got to play with the molten glass with the giant metal tweezers. The professor commented on how well I was doing and that I was a natural.
And then I dropped the class. Stupid calculus.
So - what if instead of doing the supposedly responsible thing, I had dropped calc and physics and switched my major to art and started doing glassblowing instead? Boy, think of the possibilities! World famous artist. Studio in New York, showings in Paris, blah blah blah. Or, more realistically, I'd end up making and selling little glass unicorns at RenFests all over the country. Pulling down just enough money to survive, living in a tent, and bathing out of a bucket. Driving a beat up 1977 Winnebago. Hating, with a passion, little glass unicorns.