I came home from the kegger pretty toasted. "Shhh!" I giggled to myself as I slipped into my dorm room. My roommate stirred and mumbled in her sleep. Lucky for me (and her) that she slept like a rock most nights - this wasn't the first time I'd tumbled in the door at odd hours.

I slipped into bed and was just getting cozy, when my assignment floated across my brain. "Shit, shit, shit!" I sat up. My warm buzz had just become a cold sweat. I had an essay due for a history class, first thing tomorrow morning. Despite my penchant for partying, I was pretty dedicated to my homework and this was a major slip up in my book.

I sighed and heaved myself out of my nest. I grabbed my notebook and slipped out into the hall. We were to write a response to a famous male writer who'd spent his youth mired in 50's America. He was pretty sure his generation was the best. Our teacher wanted us to respond.

I'd find out in class the next day that most of my classmates responded positively to this man's challenge, but in my beer-buzzed state, I was a little more.... belligerent. Did he think he was the only who'd surmounted challenges? "Try living with the threat of nuclear war! Sure, we were kids, but growing up with Reagan as president was no picnic." My tirade flowed out of me. Finally exhausted, I went to bed.

By nothing short of a miracle, my teacher loved my piece and submitted it to an anthology the college was putting together. My assignment eventually became part of a textbook that my friends later had to read for homework. I even received an engraved paperweight from the school. I was embarrassed and I felt like a complete fraud. If a drunken toss-off could earn me that much attention, how could I ever make it happen if I were to ever really try? It had to be a fluke. I didn't write again for years. 

[Photo Credit: This is not me, nor is it a rendition of what happened that evening. However, I do find this quite eye-catching!]