Published May 20, 2010

You must graduate college without the aid of an adviser

Your academic adviser
Your academic adviser

You wake up early from one of those panicky dreams where you think a paper is due and you haven’t written a single sentence of it. You realize you’re not going to write it anyway, so you go back to sleep. An hour or so later, you wake up to chirping birds and realize that you were dreaming up the deadline.

The dream jogs your memory, though. You remember that you don’t have an academic adviser, so it could be difficult to negotiate with the bureaucrats who have insisted that you do have an adviser. You explain, “No, the man you’re thinking of is a communist who wears false teeth and Hawaiian shirts.” The officials at Wright State University think that this is a paranoid fantasy of yours, so you have taken matters into your own hands. You have been acting as your own adviser and crashing numerous classes. “How the fuck am I going to graduate unless I can get some official person to give me credit for all the classes I stole over the past seven years?” you kick yourself.

You put a quarter in your swear jar on your way to the shower where you will get gussied up and formulate a plan.

You decide to: