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shiny objects

Tuesday, February 22, 2005


Ninety out of one-hundred. Congratulations on your A-, they say, you must be pretty pleased with your performance. Good job.

But there's nothing here to congratulate. I'm not. It's anything but.

Perhaps other people can see the silver lining in a score just short of excellence, but I sure as hell can't. And yet, I would be able to tolerate a ninety percent if I hadn't bragged about how well I was going to do, how confident I felt as I took the exam, how I couldn't possibly have gotten less than a ninety-six percent and maybe even a perfect score.

I set and failed my own mark right before the eyes of Mom and Dad and Alan and Dean Palmer. This failure to reach my own damned finish line propells a modest achievement into stark scrutiny. How shabby appears the ninety donning laurels meant for regal foreheads. See its confusion amidst the victory procession.

Run. Hide your face. You don't belong here.


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