( NOTE: this essay won the Very Special Arts New Jersey Wordsmith Contest in 2003, and was read by members of the Unlimited Potential Theatre Company at the Stephen J. Capestro Theater in Edison, NJ, January 18, 2003.) My office is a monument to Effort. Crammed and sagging shelves full of well-organized projects, books, research materials, and neatly labeled folders stand as sentinels in a Dilapidated House of Hope, where miniature statues of deities and mythic figures guard the wise words of Motivators, Philosophers, and Poets tacked to the walls, while working their mojo on the cackling hills of sterile rejection covering the carpet. As I type, trying to "make things happen" in the 20 minutes I have before the next scheduled endeavor, I see a knobby purple ball coming toward me. Behind it is an eclectic mix of clothing consisting of a swimsuit, two sun dresses, and a cockeye denim cap with little flowers embroidered on it. The two scabbed and knobby knees beneath the ba...
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