The Faint-Hearted

I was feeling a little under the weather when I crawled downstairs to watch Barack's Inauguration speech. So perhaps that influenced my perception. But I have to be honest. I felt a little like I was back at college, and that I was sitting in a classroom on the first day when the professor is explaining the curriculum and handing out the syllabus. And you are looking around at everyone and thinking "Oh crap. I wonder if I can still drop this course..." I couldn't help feeling like this next semester is going to be one helluva lot of homework. Maybe more than I can handle. I mean, when I signed up for this course last November, I thought it sounded like a lot of fun - historically important change, the ousting of the fat cats, a grass-roots, all-hands-on-deck-so-we-can-turn-this-ship-around movement. The kind of experience that makes us all puff out our chests just a little and strut around the pen.

Oh, except that for some reason, the real work is ahead of us. I don't think I'm being paranoid, thinking that Good Old Barry was looking right at ME when he referred to "those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame." BUSTED. I mean flat-out, ladies and gentleman of the jury please observe Exhibit A, poster child, CALLED OUT. That's me he's talking about. A video game playing, sleep 'til noon, waiting tables after thirty, bona fide Los Angeles ACTOR. GULP.

Maybe I should have read the course description before I signed up for BootStraps 101. I would have seen that the pre-requisites included at least one course in Tightening your Belt, and space in your schedule for voluntary service to mankind. So much for that Battlestar Gallactica marathon I was planning...