I'll never forget those words, spoken by a child after I'd given a Polaroid image transger demonstration at the Art Center of Waco a few years ago. That remark touched me in a way that I doubt the kid will ever know. You see, years earlier I was working in the office of public information for the City of Waco, and was told that I looked like an accountant. Granted, I was wearing a tab collar, a tie, wingtips and a conservative haircut, but that assessment made my heart sink. Of all the things to which I could have been compared, "an accountant" was among the most painful. It was at that moment that I stopped cutting my hair and ironing my clothes. I packed away the tab-collared shirts and the Johnston&Murphys. Not long after that day I was fired from my job there at City Hall, and was free to pursue my artistic goals, including feature filmmaking. Although I've not risen to the height to which I aspire, a smile still creeps across my face when I recall the words of the child at the Art Center.

Since then, I've abandoned the wild haircut, and have started ironing my clothes. A few days ago, my son told me that I looked like a lawyer. I've cancelled my haircut appointments for the foreseeable future, and mothballed the iron.