The Tomb of the Unknown Neuron
I work by day as a (very) humble office employee. In other words, I am the person who gets blaimed when things get messed up. With good reason. Yes, this atmosphere is a little stifling for a creative personality. However, I suggest for those that feel similarly stifled take a similar route to mine. (However, this may lead to your office mates doing what mine does, which is say "oddness" in a level tone of voice as a way of pointing out when I am being especially strange. Yes, I hear it two or three times on some days.) Here is my approach in detail. Step One: put the office radio on the Big 80's. Step Two: Whenever "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley comes on, suddenly start dancing like a fool. Or in some way commemorate getting Rick-Rolled. Everyone in my office ought to be secretly thankful that I don't play my "Shock the Monkey" song game. (It involves sound effects.)
The life of a writer: if you ever feel inferior because you see some beautiful work of art that is publicly displayed and couldn't say whether it was done by a hoodlum or tommorrow's Great Master, don't feel bad. Not only do most of your fellows also not know these facts, neither do the people who live and work in close proximity.
Case in point: the sculpture outside the Vanderbilt Student Health Clinic. Imagine that you are an aspiring writer trying to write meaningful things about local public art. And that the best thing the employees of the Vanderbilt Student Health Clinic can say about it is that they think it was done by a student and ask at the Sarratt Center. Which, coincidentally, does not include the sculpture on its "tour of sculpture around Vanderbilt campus" webpage. At which point one is inclined to throw up ones hands and assume that no one, nowhere, except the actual artist, knows why there is a giant metal sculpture of a neuro-muscular junction in the middle of a patch of grass on Vanderbilt campus.