…here’s a summary of the last few days.

Yesterday was my Long Day, the one with six hours of class in a row. Creative Writing, the first one, went fine. I kind of feel like the instructor and I^[1] are from different planets, because she is definitely more nonlinear and unstructured than me. In this, she better fits the classic stereotype of the “creative type” better than I do, but I don’t fit in most stereotypes, and I don’t think less of her for it.

It just causes communication issues because I am the type of person who uses (and understands) words very very precisely and she… is not. So there will be times when I really need a clarification on something and she just plain can’t provide it.

Presumably, she is used to operating in a milieu where people can figure out what she means. Being the undersocialized sap that I am, I either can’t, or I can but it annoys the crap out of me. Especially coming from a writing teacher. Use your words!

And there’s a very dark, very sarcastic, very male that wants to declare that if she is not at least my equal by my own definition of use of language, she’s not good enough to teach me, and she should either learn to have more discipline and focus, or let someone else teach.

Luckily, I know that is wrong. I don’t have any right to demand people fit into little boxes. It’s not like I would let someone do that to me. So I will learn her way, and probably gain a lot of very valuable perspective into minds that don’t work like mine at all.

It helps that sometimes the students can fill in the gap for me.

In class, we did a bunch of 2 minute writing exercises, which I quite enjoyed, except for having to stop when the timer goes off. That’s a rule I simply cannot follow. I have to finish the sentence. So every time, I kept writing.

Luckily, nonlinear creative types are not into the strict enforcement of rules.

Then came Lingusitics, and brother, have I bitten off more than I can chew. We have to learn so much so fast and the teacher, while friendly and funny, is also quite demanding of us in that regard. I get the feeling that we are being taught in the modern European style, which is very much in the “demand a lot and believe they can do it” model of education, and that’s a rough adjustment for us mentally flabby Canadian types.

It’s like I am suddenly enrolled into a very friendly boot camp.

So my fears that Linguistics would be just as tough as my Psych classes last semester were well-founded. I am going to do my best to meet the challenge, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t swap this course for a second year Psych class right now.

I am beginning to feel like the fact that I am a great writer and a wizard of words is actually a liability in this course. Doing things like identifying parts of speech or roots and affixes and things like that come so swiftly and naturally to me that it is outright painful for me to slow it down and do it the way she wants me to do it.

Not that I think this is some arbitrary exercise designed to torture me. I am not nearly that ego-bound. But that is how it feels sometimes, reason be damned.

It reminds me of being in elementary school and losing marks on math problems because I didn’t “show my work”, I just worked it out in my head.

That usually went something like this :

Me : But I got the answer right!
Teacher : Yes, but it doesn’t count because you didn’t show your work!
Me : Why do I have to show my work?
Teacher : Because I have to be sure that you are doing it the right way!
Me : You mean there’s a wrong way to get the right answer?
Teacher : Yes! That’s why you have to show me the steps you took to get the answer!
Me : But these ARE the steps I used. What you really mean is, steps other people would use.

And so forth and so on. Good lord I was hard to deal with. Too smart for my own damned good.

Then there was today, which was Canadian History Since 1867, which was fine. I like learning these things. The third hour is always discussion of the assigned reading, and for once, I had actually done the reading!

Well, most of it, anyhow. Around 70 percent.

Afterward, I went and got muffins at the Tim’s, then just as I was leaving… the freaking fire alarm goes off. From what I overheard, it was the second time that day.

Add in the one last week, and I have to wonder. As far as I can see it, there are many possibly explanations as to why this keeps happening :

a) We have a serial arsonist on our hands.
b) We have a serial alarm-puller on our hands.
c) Despite being a concrete building, KPU Richmond is surprisingly flammable
d) Someone has foolishly angered Thrakzul, the Fire God, and soon we shall pay in blood for our impertinence
e) Three completely separate fires happened within the same week with absolutely no connect between them

Personally, I find that last one pretty implausible.

Anyhow, the result of the fire alarm was that I had to wait for my bus outside, in the dark and the rain, inside of doing most of the waiting inside where it’s warm.

I was very happy to see that bus.

That brings you up to date. This is the channel to stay on for the latest news on the situation.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.