Writer's Block

Yesterday I had every intention of writing a new post. I thought and thought about what to write all day. The same thing started to happen today and I remembered why I started doubting my writing in the first place, his name is Ron Johnson. R.J. was my English professor in college. 

<I tried to post a picture but I think he's a vampire or something because it won't post>

He had a full beard that he stroked constantly. 

He yelled and slammed books on his desk and threw things for emphasis. 

According to good ol' R.J. there is one correct way to write, and even with opinion papers there is one correct opinion to have. 

He told the class that we were horrible, chastised and belittled us, both in class and with his fucking purple pen.

Somehow, I was one of his favorites. I think that it was because I was never supposed to be in his remedial English class anyway. 

**I took a placement test for Math and English and the scores must have been switched because the results made it seem as though I was an illiterate, math genius. Since I was studying nursing I decided that it would be good to start off with the ability to take more advanced math and science classes and just suck it up with remedial English. The plan failed miserably. I wasn't ready for upper division math and science so I flunked out of those classes and I was more than prepared for remedial English which made the class I was in feel redundant and condescending. As well as providing me with a four year complete writer's block.**

So, as one of Ron Johnson's favorites I was "allowed" to call him Ron <shudder>, and I was encouraged, no, more like expected to join him in chastising laughter directed pointedly and my classmates. When I did neither of those, I was yelled at, or worse... he would stroke his mustache and beard in my general direction <double shudder>.

In his class I wrote a total of four essays, ranging in length from three to twelve pages. Each time it was time to write one I would sit in front of my computer for HOURS, writing a sentence, reading it in his head and erasing it to avoid getting yelled at or having it covered in purple ink. 

--Even as I write this post I am thinking of all the things that he demanded in an essay and I am equally tempted to both incorporate his asinine rules and completely

blow     off. most, of the writing! rules their is just for the sake of Rebellion.--

I would painstakingly use a thesaurus in order to come up with different words for "but" or "and" or "to" or "for" because we were only allowed three of each per essay. That little rule was easy enough for the three page  essay but once I was on the twelve page essay that rule made me cry more than once, and made my essay seem disjointed and robotic. "Disjointed and Robotic" would have been welcome purple criticisms but instead I got ALL the "mis-used" conjunctions crossed out and "Without these words present the sentence no longer makes sense". Well, yeah Ron Johnson, that's why I put them in there in the first place, you were the one who took them out!

The day the papers were returned to us still has a reoccurring slot in my nightmares, here's how it would go:

He would walk in with a pile of papers and a wild look in his eye that seemed like he was looking for a fight.

He would saunter in and SLAM the papers on the desk. His speech changed slightly each time but it was generally something like this

"Well, these certainly were DISAPPOINTING and a FUCKING pain in my ASS to read. LUCKY for you I always read THESE at the coffee shop so that at least I can enjoy SOMETHING about my weekend."
There's nothing quite like the feeling both being a terrible disappointment to writing and of ruining the perfectly good weekend of a "writing genius".
I ended up with an A in the class even though I had a "dangerously low D" at mid-term, but that was of little value to me. I had been emotionally abused all semester. I abandoned the novel that I had already written ten chapters of and I even quit writing in my journal. 

Years have passed and I think I am ready to stop living under the victim umbrella that Ron Johnson and I created in my head. Ron Johnson was really just an old man who was saddened by his failure at being a published writer and having to work at a community college teaching remedial English. He no longer gets to have power over my life and anyway, I have my own blog now and at least 6 loyal followers. 

So,

In your face Ron Johnson!! I have my own blog now!!! And I can write whatever I want!