This must be where pies go when they die.

My meeting with the Undergraduated English advisor, Terrence, was this morning. Two classes. Two more classes and then I'll be finished with my degree in Creative Writing.

When I was younger, I collected office supplies in hopes of one day working in a cubicle or an office. I would have staplers and reams of paper, a couple of typewriters (Computers were still foreign to me at that age) and a desk my dad bought at an office surplus store. I'd spend hours arranging and collating, filing things with stickers and labels. Subconsciously, I think that I wanted to be middle of the road, average necktie and jacket kind of guy. It was a sense of security, being able just to have some sort of job from 9-5 with a pension and a Datsun.

Gone are those days.