the bastard has something stuck in his craw.
on many occasions when I meet up with the dwarf ( and I haven't in quite some time) he tells me things about my college professors.
you see he works at my old college. and the dwarf tells me that.
my graphic design teacher was a photographer and he picked up graphic design just in case the handwriting on the wall was true.
and that none of the graphic design teachers at my old school have ever worked for a large company.
so in essence, they are teaching young minds to grow up to be freelancers who have no idea how to find work or work with a team.
and this sticks in my craw.
the bastard also has a guilty conscience.
he could have worked harder in college.
he could have worked less days.
could have slept in his studio less and worked more.
so he gives back.
I proctor this test that kids in my old high school take to fill a requirement for their art program.
and while it won't make or break them, it helps me sleep with a clear conscience.
well that and a manhattan or two.
but, inevitably one of these kids tells me a should be a teacher.
and i tell them that when this business I am in spits me out, I may take it under advisement.
but the fact of the matter is
I curse too much.
I talk too much about bullshit and less about the course material.
hrm. maybe I can be a teacher.
or a hobo.