There are so many moments in my life I wish I could take back.
I should have come equipped with a Ctrl + Z button. Undo, undo, undo.
With the chances of this happening being highly unlikely, perhaps I should just try a little harder filtering what comes out of my mouth.
Last year in the architecture program, I had to present the concept for a bakery my partner, Elizabeth, and I designed. The format of this presentation was a jury review, meaning as a team we would present our project to a jury of four or five architects/professors/etc., who would then ask us questions and critique our design.
The group in front of us had a pretty tough review, and the jury was particularly harsh. They had designed a western hat shop, and placed their bathrooms in the dead center of their building, which the jury saw as a very big, distracting mistake.
Elizabeth and I were supposed to present right after, and I began to feel nervous. If the same topic about bathrooms was brought up, we might be in trouble for a very different reason. We only planned for one bathroom in our entire building, reserved for employees only.
Sure enough, a few minutes into our review, one of the jury members, a principal at arguably the most popular firm in Salt Lake, asked us where our public restrooms were located.
Without any filtering or thought to consequences, I said the first thing that came to my mind.
"In the hat shop."
He didn't laugh. Sure, everyone else in the room were trying desperately to suppress their giggles, but not him.
I don't think I'll be looking for work with that firm anytime soon. So much for being memorable.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Losing Nemo
I don't handle death well. I have an especially hard time dealing with the fact that I'm a pet killer--a serial pet killer in fact.
As a freshman in college, I was given a fish as a gift from my "boyfriend" at the time. I was having a bad day and it was supposed to make me feel better. I can't say it worked, because seventeen hours later, my fish was dead, and I was even more sad than before. What's worse is that a fifty cent fish outlived our relationship, hence why "boyfriend" is best put in quotations.
After a beautiful candlelit funeral for Squishy the fish, I bought myself four new fish and one frog. Within days, my fish tank had turned from aquatic home to battle ground. The fish ate the frog, then turned on each other, leaving only two survivors. Out of those two, one committed suicide by jumping from the tank during cleaning.
You would think I would have given up, but not quite yet.
Just a few days later my boss told me she wanted to start a fish tank at work, and I strongly supported this idea.
The new tank was quickly up and running, but after a few months, Betsy was the only fish left.
It was my turn to clean the fish tank (now that I think about it, it was always my turn to clean the fish tank--weird).
Anyway, this time while cleaning the tank, I brought Betsy over to the sink to return her back to her clean, shiny home. Somehow, in this process, Betsy leaped from the tank and into the sink, landing on the bars of the drain. I reacted as quickly as i could to grab Betsy before she slipped down the drain, but I was not fast enough.
Betsy smacked her tiny tail against the cold damp drain, launching herself into the air. Her fishy body repositioned itself in the air, so that when she fell back down towards the drain, she fit perfectly between the gaps of the drain, disappearing into the plumbing below.
I didn't know how to react, and after a few seconds of stunned silence, I began laughing so intensely I had to cry.
My boss is still upset with me despite how many times I remind her, "All drains lead to the ocean."
As a freshman in college, I was given a fish as a gift from my "boyfriend" at the time. I was having a bad day and it was supposed to make me feel better. I can't say it worked, because seventeen hours later, my fish was dead, and I was even more sad than before. What's worse is that a fifty cent fish outlived our relationship, hence why "boyfriend" is best put in quotations.
After a beautiful candlelit funeral for Squishy the fish, I bought myself four new fish and one frog. Within days, my fish tank had turned from aquatic home to battle ground. The fish ate the frog, then turned on each other, leaving only two survivors. Out of those two, one committed suicide by jumping from the tank during cleaning.
You would think I would have given up, but not quite yet.
Just a few days later my boss told me she wanted to start a fish tank at work, and I strongly supported this idea.
The new tank was quickly up and running, but after a few months, Betsy was the only fish left.
It was my turn to clean the fish tank (now that I think about it, it was always my turn to clean the fish tank--weird).
Anyway, this time while cleaning the tank, I brought Betsy over to the sink to return her back to her clean, shiny home. Somehow, in this process, Betsy leaped from the tank and into the sink, landing on the bars of the drain. I reacted as quickly as i could to grab Betsy before she slipped down the drain, but I was not fast enough.
Betsy smacked her tiny tail against the cold damp drain, launching herself into the air. Her fishy body repositioned itself in the air, so that when she fell back down towards the drain, she fit perfectly between the gaps of the drain, disappearing into the plumbing below.
I didn't know how to react, and after a few seconds of stunned silence, I began laughing so intensely I had to cry.
My boss is still upset with me despite how many times I remind her, "All drains lead to the ocean."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)