Santa pictures
Today was a depressing day. It was a day of realized failure, a day of unsought confidence, and a day of remorse. This was all due to the disappointment of my crappy photo take with Santa. I faced the wrath of my own anger and misery.
It started as any other day would have. I went to orchestra, and then to economics. I found myself sitting in calculus before half the day was done. It seemed to be like any other day, and there was nothing to what had happened since. There was nothing to the day. . . so therefore, as I was walking down to lunch, I remembered that Dana was Santa today. The next thing, it seems, Dana is talking to me, and the photographer is telling me of the misfortunes they had had . “We haven‘t had any customers yet. Maybe you can be our first one today,” he said as he scratched his head in awe.
“Take a picture with us,” shouted Ms. Clause, who was also in my calc class. What happened next was undistinguished and unremembered. It seemed like a tragedy from the start. I ended up walking away with a Polaroid picture.
Thereafter, I went to eat my lunch. As I sat down, I realized the loaded potential of the picture. It was a masterpiece of laughter. Everyone eventually laughed at it, including myself. Soon afterward, I found myself leaving the lunchroom, heading once again to calculus. As I reached the ramp that connected the cafeteria to the rest of the school, I stopped to think about retaking it; however, I realized I was late for class, so I walked on. Little did I know, this would be my last chance to resolve my failed opportunity.
The true failure of the day was in that little moment when I stopped to look back. In my mind, the Santa workers were completely un-condescending, and I was taking a another picture. In reality, I started was walking subsequently down the wrong way. Instead of gaining momentum towards redemption, I went down the ramp of dejection. The consequence of this day: my perfectly normal day was now a perfectly troubled day, and I keep this day to heart. The only opportunity cost of not trying was a lost of two dollars, and a load of resentment.
It started as any other day would have. I went to orchestra, and then to economics. I found myself sitting in calculus before half the day was done. It seemed to be like any other day, and there was nothing to what had happened since. There was nothing to the day. . . so therefore, as I was walking down to lunch, I remembered that Dana was Santa today. The next thing, it seems, Dana is talking to me, and the photographer is telling me of the misfortunes they had had . “We haven‘t had any customers yet. Maybe you can be our first one today,” he said as he scratched his head in awe.
“Take a picture with us,” shouted Ms. Clause, who was also in my calc class. What happened next was undistinguished and unremembered. It seemed like a tragedy from the start. I ended up walking away with a Polaroid picture.
Thereafter, I went to eat my lunch. As I sat down, I realized the loaded potential of the picture. It was a masterpiece of laughter. Everyone eventually laughed at it, including myself. Soon afterward, I found myself leaving the lunchroom, heading once again to calculus. As I reached the ramp that connected the cafeteria to the rest of the school, I stopped to think about retaking it; however, I realized I was late for class, so I walked on. Little did I know, this would be my last chance to resolve my failed opportunity.
The true failure of the day was in that little moment when I stopped to look back. In my mind, the Santa workers were completely un-condescending, and I was taking a another picture. In reality, I started was walking subsequently down the wrong way. Instead of gaining momentum towards redemption, I went down the ramp of dejection. The consequence of this day: my perfectly normal day was now a perfectly troubled day, and I keep this day to heart. The only opportunity cost of not trying was a lost of two dollars, and a load of resentment.
posted by W_kh at
12/17/2004 10:15:00 PM
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