Adventures In Adaptation

Warm, ambient noise fills the air. The electrical flicker of a TV screen pulses a massaging rhythm that coats the living room, reducing objects to greasy-vague memories and Flipperson's mind to a blank canvas. Flip is being entertained. His mind drifts, guided by knowing hands, along predictable plot lines, soothingly, effortlessly wafting its way along well traveled canals of light and sound.

Commercials arrive and their sharply different rhythms shift Flip's state of mind, but not so greatly as to disrupt his alpha-wave rapture. He coasts on oscillating images of snack foods and car tires. Steel-belted reassurance shifts easily into images of Riverdance and abruptly Flip's trance shatters like a hot light bulb dipped in water.

"Jesus!" Flip is praying. Pentecostal-style.

Advance preparation, my wary friends, is a fool's game

Flip explodes off of the earth-toned comfort of his couch and hurls himself into the kitchen. His eyes frantically search the magnet-encrusted shell of the refrigerator, then come to rest on his elusive prey. His shoulders slump.

"I have tickets to Riverdance." He announces quietly.

"Oh yeah. For when?" I'm not really interested but Flip is standing right next to me so he's tough to ignore.

"About half an hour ago."

"Oh."

Lord Bayden-Powell came up with the Boy Scout motto, Be Prepared. Generations of kids, guided by his words, were taught to plan ahead, gather what they'd need to succeed, and march into the future well equipped.

Powell had it all wrong.

Advance preparation, my wary friends, is a fool's game. It's like betting on horses as a retirement strategy - you can put the money and the effort in and tell yourself that you're all set, but at the end of the day when they turn off the lights, lock the gates and cart the money off to the bank, you're a little older, hopefully a little wiser, but seldom any richer. Consider my own case for a moment.

I take my little job here at Lowbrow Aristocrats seriously. I put my heart and soul into what I do in the hopes that someone will like it enough to throw gobs of cash at me, or that I'll at least amuse myself. Anyway, having no background in this whole writing business, I decided that I should take a creative writing course. Learn a few things, broaden my horizons, tune up the literary dancing skills, you know?

So I discovered that the local university offered just such a course. I read the description of the class, got kind of excited and signed up immediately, even though the start date for the class was more than three months away. I wanted to make damn sure that when the time came I was enrolled and in my seat, ready to be filled with fresh knowledge. I signed up, paid my fees and eagerly awaited the start of classes.