“No Good Deed” — Page Eighteen

Nov15
by Bob Forward on 2015-11-15 at 23:14
Chapter:

Page up! Max-the-artist continues to be buried in work, and on top of that had to fly to the East Coast and back while continuing to work. Yes, fly. Strike Gates are for the other Max.

Sparks are flying in the lab. In more ways than one.

More below!

 

 

Bobservations

Head Games

 

In keeping with the higher-education theme that will be running over the next page or two, Max-the-Artist mentioned over our weekly breakfast that he’d had That Dream the previous night. I have That Dream. You may have it as well. It generally happens around this time of year, when the seasons change. Actually, for some of you, it may not even be a dream.

It’s that dream where, for some reason, you are Going Back To School.

For myself, I attended (more or less) three years of college (more or less) before realizing (correctly, as it turned out) that in the fields I wished to pursue, no one would ever ask to see my diploma. So I left and went to work instead. Made sense at the time and still does, but there is still this vague sense of incompleteness that tends to creep into my bones as the weather cools, and as a result I drift off to sleep and the next thing I know I am, for whatever reason, going back to college to get my degree.

Generally I find myself back in the lobby of Harris Plaza, smelling the new paint, old carpet, and the cockroach spray, being jostled by youngsters as I attempt to check into the dorms. It should be noted that I do not get younger in my dream. I am the same age I am now, and I am watching insanely young people building bookshelves with cinder blocks and horsing around in the corridors and I am thinking: “What the hell am I doing!? I’m a grown man! I’m married! I have a family and home of my own! Why am I here!?”

Heck, not only do I have kids, but those kids are now old enough to have That Dream as well. I really don’t understand it. It’s not like college was that traumatic. Yet every year about this time, I wake up in a cold sweat with cries of “Dude!” still echoing in my ears.

My three years in university were enough for me. I can respect people who have spent four, six, or more years getting postgrad degrees. And for some people, going back to school makes sense, at least to them. Hell, my wife and my mother both went back to school to get their master’s degrees, and I was quite proud of them. My wife is even considering an offer to teach storyboarding. Worth noting that you do not need a Masters to be a professional storyboard artist, but you do need that degree to teach it, at least in most institutions.

In any case, both Dr. Madison and Marissa have obviously spent their fair share of time in the wilds of Academia, although we can assume that Marissa had more fun. Which may be what Dr. Madison is now questioning.

Oh, and the lab’s still on fire. But no biggie. We’re more interested in the heat being generated elsewhere.

And for those of you esteemed readers who are actually in college at the moment – good luck to you!

I’ll see you in my dreams.

– Bob out