It was seventh grade in our art class was given a project: to make a short animated film, working in pairs. I was arbitrarily assigned, on the basis of the seating chart, to work with a girl who had a dry imagination for a 12-year-old (though these days, 12 year olds lose their child-like fascination with the world earlier than before). While some of my ideas were far beyond the boundaries of our markers, paper, limited time and 8mm camera, they weren't all impossible. But my partner kept telling me everything I suggested was strange and that if we were to do something strange, we'd risk alienation (no, not in those words).

So we went with her idea. I vaguely remember it being a guy driving up a hill and running out of gas halfway uphill. She also picked the name for our project and insisted that we be listed as "[Her name] and Jessica."

Since she couldn't draw, I was stuck with all the drawing.

It's not enough to have the ability or the creativity. What's really important is to defend yourself, to keep other people from using you as a skilled robot, to be able to use your ideas instead of being the conduit for somebody else's. It helps to be persuasive, to explain why your way might be better. It helps not to turn into a doormat.

I got a good grade on the assignment, but I didn't get any sense of satisfaction.

Dad saw the background picture I'm using for my November entries and, as the photographer, is demanding royalties.