Creative Writing

My creative writing class is really bizarre. The instructor is an elderly British man named Peter who wore a button down shirt tucked into sweatpants. Peter reminds me of a Monty Python character. He has a very literary and exaggerated manner of speaking and says "right-o!" a lot. He spend the first 15 minutes of class going around to everyone in class and handing them a course outline and a list of recommended reading. While I appreciate his desire for personal communication, he could have just passed the handouts around. The other students are a mix of oddballs. There are a couple of new-agey middle-aged men with turquoise bracelets, a poetic Vietnam vet, this really enthusiastic woman who looks like Bettie Page, three French women who seem to be friends, a young lawyer with a huge engagement ring who just got back from an "amazing" month in Uganda, a nerdy guy who insisted that the class need an email list and talked about the mood-inducing setting of "Firefly", a hipster girl with greasy hair and a piercing through her nose, and a few others who actually seem normal. I don't know what I'm going to get out of it, but creative writing seems fun so I'm going to stick with it.