Welcome back to school. Here in the heart of Austin, I am screamingly aware that the only true academic colors are burnt orange and white. And in a fit of pride–possibly in one’s own academic accomplishments, but MUCH more likely that of one’s grandchild, the academic life is celebrated in the only way that makes sense:
A macrame merry-go-round.
It has a certain poetry. You hop on, go around the wheel a few times, and then realize, much to your horror, thatÂ everything is made out of yarn. And isn’t that the way of the world? Job, car, relationship, house, it’s basically just yarn.
“I made it for you. It’s your graduation present.”
“It’s really quite yarny, isn’t it?”
“It’s got little flowers in it! They represent your accomplishments.”
“They’re tiny, and fake.”
“You have an English degree, dear. Take what you’re given.”
Ooh, I never noticed the incandescent light bulb in this gaudy monstrosity. The fibers are either going to burst into flames, melt, or just slowly smolder for a few minutes before the entire thing blessedly crashes to the ground, its freewheeling merry-go-round existence brought to a swift end by the combined forces of gravity, radiant heat, and poor planning. Really, though, only grandma is going to look surprised.
Ironically, grandma thought more about this complex monstrosity than her grandchild thought about a major.
Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin
3 Responses to “Back to school”
“Everything is made of yarn…”
You scoff, but Grandma sure was proud when she saw her grandbaby’s name on that groundbreaking paper on string theory.
Now, as tired as I am of burnt orange, I have noticed that quite a few allumi who waddle about town in that color actually have epidermi that come pretty close to it in shade. They may not bleed burnt orange but they sure do tan that way.
After a few short months it will collape under the weight of accumulated dust.