American society embraces the rhythmic flow of social development. Elementary school tempts the appetite with finger painting and nap time, but those dreams are soon crushed with the commencement of middle school. Thirteen is a beacon of awkwardness. Hair spurts in the dark crevasses of your body. There are weird explosions that make the Darth Vader cartoon pictures on your bedsheets look like the marshmallow man. Finally, these changes happen at the precise time that appearance and civility rises to the forefront. In elementary school the teachers asked you to bring a change of clothes in case you soiled yourself during recess. Involuntary bodily functions were a normal occurence and fully embraced. At thirteen, sweat glands suddenly decide to come out and play, and instead of being the guy that gets picked last in kickball, they act like the asshole who yells "penis" during the school production of "The Sound of Music."
Of course the fine folks who crafted the public education institutions decided to throw all these thirteen year olds into an old building, lined with linoleum floors and barbaric lockers. The thirteen year olds spend six hours of their day in these buildings learning things that they will never remeber and slowly discovering that the blond girl in the front row of biology class makes it difficult to stand up when the bell rings. In a few years of middle school all the kids are assumed to have worked their kinks out and realize that deodorant is a necessary daily application. Thus, the young people are sent to the next rung called high school. Here the students learn business by selling drugs and discover the least amount of effort to put forth to get through to the next level. Ironically these important lessons are just a side effect of the institution, unintended yet accomplished. Finally, when a student's time has expired in high school, most students go to more school. College, however, begins the long circle back to childhood. For the first time in awhile choice, and not just the illusion of choice is available for the student. There is a plethora of class choices and even choices for teachers. Most students even move away from their home.
But up until now, this horrible cycle is not really my point of concern. We all go through it, and it is as futile as trying to squeeze a condom over Star Jones' head. Perhaps, it has to do with my age or the effects of psychedelic drugs, but presently I am considering exactly what I want to do post college. The over fifteen years of schooling has taught me that I don't need anymore, and most of the jobs seem horribly unamusing and minimal in their benefits. However, their is one job I believe I am perfectly suited for: professional wino. Wino, as a profession, dates back centuries to ancient Greek society when highest breed of intellectual first decided to make an urn filled with alcohol a necessary accessory for any occassion. Over the years, the position has experienced many permutations, all of which were extremely necessary to the evoltuon of the entire industry. In 1875 in Oklahoma City, Carlyle Duncan made great strides for the wino community when he exposed himself to a statue of Grover Cleveland. He also marked the first chronicled occurrence of public urination. He was a great man.
There is a fragile, symbiotic relationship between the wino and straight society. Both benefit but neither realizes the extent of the others' influence. The man talking frantically to himself about the failures of capitalism is not only a spectacle on the sidewalk, but occupies police officers, obliterates insecurities in paranoid businessmen, and enhances the general ambience of any city. Conversely for the wino, the city provides a canvas for observations, the buildings and parks create places for congregation, and passer-bys even occassionally contribute money to his habit.
So after a few months of horrifying introspection and self-discovery I realize that professional wino is probably the best suited job for me. I really enjoy drinking and consider myself pretty good at drinking. Furthermore, drinking outside and in parks is one of my favorite activities. I have ideas but lack the motivation to actually do anything with them. Therefore, a public forum to voice my opininons would be very fitting. Finally, I hate showers and any type of soap with a passion only matched by my hatred of those miserable hacks at Fisher Price. So keep your eye out in the major cities because Im training to be a professional wino.