Maybe too much information about my English class. Also? Supreme ruler of the world.

Today I rolled out of bed ten minutes late, which, let's be honest, is 20 minutes later than I should have pried myself from bed. I walked into class the minute that it started. This is typical for me. I do not like being late, I like being ridiculously on time. I am notorious for running to class to make it there at exactly 9:40, half asleep and in need of massive amounts of caffeine.

We had to fill out some financial aid bullshit, which I finished remarkably fast because of some apparent ability to remember a 4-digit pin. Let's not even get into the fact that I was the only person who remembered it. Four. Digit. Pin. Anywho...I walked back into our English class first, by a landslide. I had an exam in Purchasing, so I got out my notes and started to read over them.

English Teacher (ET): "I really enjoy reading your papers. You have a very unique voice, you are funny without intentionally being so."

Erratic: "Oh, thanks. I really enjoy writing."

ET: "I read a lot of papers, and I really have to say, I think you have a lot of promise as a writer."

Erratic: (blushing) "Thanks. Most of the time I don't think people get my writing style. I write the way I think and it is lost on people who don't know me."

ET: "To the contrary, I think that it intrigues people who don't know you. I read your last paper first, because I couldn't wait to read it."

Erratic: "Uh. Um. Thanks? I mean, I have a blog. I write on that. I mean, not well, but I like to write. Stuff. Uh. Thanks."

And the conversation continued like this for about 10 minutes. It was ridiculously awkward and surprisingly flattering. I love to write, I really do. I don't think I do it well here. I think sometimes I do, but mostly I use this as my personal sounding board, which is, I don't know. Not the reason I started a blog.

This is the paper I wrote when asked to write a one page paper on being a super hero for a week.

In my mind, I soar through the sky, watching everyone below as they go about their day. I have dreams of fighting crime; foiling bank robberies, plucking murderers from the street; helping the elderly cross the road. I will stop trains from derailing and save babies from baths that are too hot. The world will be a perfect place with Superwoman watching out for all of humanity, even if it is just for a week.

As I soar towards the clouds, I feel my heart seize in my chest. Panic spreading like wild fire from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. My breath catches in my throat as I slowly descended towards the ground. Acrophobia. This will not do.

Super human speed is the power for me. I will fly through the streets using my heightened senses to know when crimes are being committed, to hear the screams of women being mugged, the angry threats of domestic violence, the squealing of impending car accidents. In fact, I hear something just a few blocks away. I take off, bravery in my heart, when my stomach lurches. Sweat beading on my brow as my lunch turns on me. Kinetosis. Being a super hero is hard.

If I can’t fly and I can’t run faster than a speeding bullet, I suppose that X-Ray vision is the only way to go. I will simply see the crimes and call the police, who can stop the criminals in their tracks. That’s the solution. And if any criminal gets away, I will simply use my eidetic memory to help the sketch artist draw their likeness. Crime doesn't stand a chance against me. As I start scanning the buildings around me, I feel my eyes getting wider and wider. Voyeurism, it seems, is not for me either.

My first hour as a super hero hasn't gone that well, but certainly I will get the hang of it over the next week. Maybe I can find a moving company that is hiring.

So, here is my question...am I pushing it to write my persuasion paper (sarcastically of course) on why I should be the supreme ruler of the world?