Obviously Nobody has seen HER Stapler.

My creative writing professor has already left a huge chip on my shoulder. She is pregnant, socially awkward, and refuses to staple anything. Yesterday she threw seven handouts at everyone in my class. Apparently they’re supposed to be in some kind of order in a packet, although no one can actually figure it out. Is this some sort of puzzle or something? For the love of Christ FASTEN, woman!

She also implored us to “schedule creative time every day.” How can you seriously ask someone to carve out a specific time in their schedule to think creatively? What would that look like? "Oh, it's 5:00, everybody be quiet, it's time to write the most profound poem ever!" What would have happened if someone told my girl Em Dickinson that she had three days to finish "I bring an unaccustomed wine" complete with 3 rough drafts and a peer review? The result would be ghastly and inorganic. I mean, suppose my creative wind doesn't swoop in until 2:13 PM on a Sunday, a full 48 hours past the deadline of my first short fiction? Beyond that, is she going to fail me if I’m being boring an uncreative? Hm. It could be an interesting experiment…

OK, OK. So she means well. She’s just encouraging us to find a little time to think. And it is the sad truth that many people at this school honestly couldn’t think for themselves even if they penciled it into their agendas. I’m just dismayed that I’ll have to exploit some of my imagination by fitting it into some concise, grammatically sound piece of paper that’s going to be judged for quality and used to bolster my GPA.

Suddenly, daydreaming out the window doesn’t seem as fun.

(My apologies for being one of those arrogant artist types.)