DON'T CALL THE DOCTOR; I'LL BE FINE

As of today, I've received the first B of my academic career. That includes elementary school, high school, and almost the first three years of college. For the longest time, this has been a quiet (but omnipresent) part of my personality. My parents never put the pressure on me; it was all self-generated. They would say, "Do your best" and I would think, "Okay. My best is an A. So there." Obviously, this is an unhealthy way of living, and it's become the way I value myself.

The thing, though, is that I got this B in a fiction workshop that I felt was really productive and worthwhile. I'm very happy with the stories I've written, and I generally feel this was the best class of the semester for me. By that logic, I should be devasted (or, would have been devastated if this happened a few years ago), but I'm not. I think this is a product of hard work, and it's okay with me.

Well, don't I sound well-adjusted!