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  • So two years ago I heard about this program. It's a "school" for creative people that basically rips you apart for a year, and makes you into a hirable entity. In advertising.

    There was mystique.
    There was competition.
    There was a name.

    And people kept telling me about it.

    So, naturally I wanted it more than anything else. I wanted it so badly that I dropped everything to fill compile my application, devoting two rare 80-degree Portland weeks to compile, edit and re-compile a hard-earned collection of work.

    This photo is a diorama of the table that I wanted to sit at, and it's the table where I'm writing this story. It's the 12 desk. It's where 13 strangers get psyched about bad ideas, drink beer, and make fun of themselves. It's also where a next-level work-horse attitude develops.

    The program, W+K 12, has a 1% acceptance rate. I really had to want it. And now I've got it.

    The past me expects me to keep wanting it. So I do, more or less.

    Every fucking day.
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