15 minutes, 9/1

(two older teens are in a bedroom staring at an open lap-top at a desk. a boy is sitting in the desk's chair while a girl looks over his shoulder.)

No, this is stupid. I can't make her spin clockwise, damn it.

Calm down. Just move something in front of the screen.

(she waves her hand in front of the screen.)

See, clockwise. Okay....okay, yeah she just switched back to counter-clockwise.

I can't. She won't change for me. I can't believe I can't make the ballerina spin the other way.

Maybe you just have to relax your eyes, like one of those hidden picture dealies.

Is that what you're doing?

No, not really. I'm just sort of telling my brain to switch her around.

Why can't I do that?

Why are you so worried about how the ballerina is spinning?

It's a test thing. A right brain vs. left brain test. If you see the ballerina spinning counter-clockwise then you're left brain, and if she spins clockwise then you're right brain.

What if you see her doing both?

I can't get her to switch. I'm left brained. This is not right.

Why are you worried about the side of your brain? Just go with the flow.

No, see, it's not like that. I'm left brained, but left brainers completely go against who I am.

Like an enemy sort of thing? Oh no!

No, I'm serious. Here, right here. It says that left brained people are more logic oriented, can see the details, focused.

Those are nice.

Yeah, but the right brained people are described as feeling, emotional, creative, big-picture oriented. I always saw myself as a right brain person.

I guess that makes me a centrist. Well, buck up. It's not the end of the world. Not yet, anywho, that's 2012.

Why can't I make her spin...

Just relax. All you have to do is change your life plans. Listen, just stop writing poetry, stop drawing those cartoons you do, and just pick up engineering and statistics. This way you can actually have a fulfilling career that does something for society AND will pay you a decent wage. Win-win, homeboy.

That's horrifying.

(he closes the computer and leaves the computer desk.)

I mean, I know what I'm into. I'm creative. Artistic. Right?

Sure.

I can be an artsy type. That's who I am. That's who I've always been.

That's the spirit, tiger.

Besides, no I think I'm right here. That's just one test.

It WAS on a news site. A BRITISH news site. They are pretty prim and proper with their reporting.

Yeah, but millions of people probably did the same test. And who knows whether or not it's even accurate? It's the Internet, after all.

Yeah, but the Internet is pretty much the one collected spot for all of human knowledge and experience.

Oh, God. I'm really not meant to be an artist am I?

I have the feeling this is about more than just the ballerina.

My mom is thinking about sending me to State.

But she said you could go to the institute. I thought that was a done deal?

It was, I thought.

But State has NO creative writing program. Like, at all. And why wouldn't she send you to Tech? It's right there. Tech even has a respectable English department, and I say that unbiasedly though proudly of my future Alma-mater.

I don't know. I was excited. Everything was good. The Institute was here, you'd be at Tech, we could still hang out. I could stay at home. I don't know what happened. I think it has something to do with "life experience" or something. She's putting me into a dorm.

That, all respect to your mother, is bullshit. You don't need a different area code or zip code for 'life experience.' You already got into the Institute, right? Just go. That's all you've been talking about since, literally, sixth grade.

I can't do that to her. She's my mom. And she's paying for it. I, honestly, have no leverage.

But you can talk to her for Christ sakes. This was your thing.

I know. I know. I don't know what's going on any more. Everything is dying.