Let me be upfront here, do I think this essay deserves an A+? Absolutely not. Do I think I should get one anyway? Hell yes. 

“AJ, what’s got you so up in arms when you’re usually so mellow and cool and awesome?” you ask. Firstly, thank you so much for noticing how cool and awesome I am. Secondly, I had to spend my weekend writing a terrible, terrible essay, all for a measly B+! I busted my balls on this essay for at least ten minutes! Okay, maybe I opened and closed the empty Google doc for 30 minutes before that, but that’s not the point. This essay was my white whale, in that I thought about doing it all week, but the elusive writing muse didn’t show herself until 11:40 PM on Saturday night. By that time, my muse looked less like a goddess of inspiration and more like a Denny’s waitress named Gladys who’s defended her spot as the town’s resident hag for 37 years and counting.

I lamented my struggles to my mother over the phone, but she unsympathetically asked, “Didn’t you read the syllabus?” To which I exploded that of course I read the syllabus! What, was I supposed to work ahead and stay on top of my work like some kind of weenie? I bid my mother a cold goodbye and slammed my head against the wall until I felt like writing. 

It’s one thing for me to acknowledge my mediocrity, but for someone else to do it… it starts to feel true. Maybe this paper (I wrote it in Comic Sans) really is the best I can do. I’m sure there’s some kind of lesson to this; maybe Bs aren’t so bad. Maybe I should’ve put more effort in. Maybe I should write an email to my professor demanding I get an A+ before I turn their class into a hostage situation. Too much? Probably. Regardless, I should probably think about thinking about ideas for next week’s article… but I won’t. Ha!