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All the Small Things

I still find it weird to navigate life with Adam without Mom. Adam and I have been married for eight years, together for fifteen, and I have been without Mom for ten years, but consciously unmasking around Adam is a chore. There is always an adjustment period when living with someone(s), but living with someone with AuDHD, Dandy Walker, anxiety, etc., is a little (LOT) more challenging. I am making an assumption because I have no problem living with me, but I am thinking of being in other people’s shoes and trying to be objective.

I never had to mask with Mom, and since we lived together until she died, she knew me better than I knew myself. To reduce stress and be more open and communicative with Adam, I have undertaken the unmasking process, which is quite extensive and intensive, considering I have been masking my entire life outside of the home, and that includes masking with non-Mom family members, which I still do because I believe they find me weird enough.

In doing all of this, and with Adam paying such attention to me, I am discovering things I do subconsciously, and I am compelled to explain the reasoning behind these things to Adam so he won’t think I am a freak and run screaming from the house for being too difficult. Being insecure and guilt-ridden (and AuDHD), I over-explain constantly and do so apologetically since I feel like I am a burden to the entire human race by just existing.

This morning, I was pouring vanilla extract into my Diet Dr. Thunder (fake Diet Dr. Pepper), which made me think of this topic. Bear with me and my oddities and branched thinking. On this latest bottle of vanilla extract, Adam removed the little foil seal, and he did it in true Adam fashion – crudely poking his big bear finger through the seal and leaving all the foil/plastic down in the bottle opening. Obviously, this is a criminal offense, much like removing a mattress tag.

But, since I don’t want to seem crazy to anyone outside my head, which includes Adam (although I think he should be in my head most of the time, as should everyone I come into contact with, but that is another topic) I thought of why the entire seal should be removed. For me, if I am given a good explanation that I understand on how and why to do something, I will normally remember to do what is being asked of me, i.e., put the knives in the dishwasher blades down so someone does not slit their wrists or arms while loading or unloading the dishes. There are caveats, but I am interrupting myself. So, the foil…

Bear Adam pokes through the seal with his bear finger, removes said finger from the bottle opening but not the foil/plastic, and pours the vanilla for me and goes on his way. Well, when I go to use the vanilla, which I am the one who uses it most, I open the bottle, pour it into my can, and that’s that, right? No. The foil and plastic inside the bottle opening catches the vanilla as I am pouring it and it dribble, dribbles all over the can top and pees down the side of the bottle. It smells great because it is vanilla, but it gets icky sticky and ants like that, so I can’t very well go around with vanilla splashed on surfaces.

This teeny, tiny little thing that I do without thinking is added to the ten-year-strong list of other teeny, tiny little things that I do without thinking that I must share with Adam so he can do them as well and I don’t lose my 💩. With Mom, this would have been a thing already because of me being “particular” and “OCD,” i.e., AuDHD, and living with Mom since birth. This has become very wordy for a story about vanilla extract. Now, the caveats…

Back to the dishwasher. All sharp and poky things should be sharp and poky ends down so people won’t cut themselves, right? Well…no. Forks and kebabs or the like need to face up because the tines and pointy ends go through the silverware basket and prevent the dishwasher rack from rolling back into the dishwasher. I guess people’s safety does not extend beyond knives; I don’t make the rules. Actually, I do, but not well, audibly, or coherently.

For towels, which is a big issue since Adam has been folding them for me, they should be tri-folded so they will fit in the bathroom closet, but why stop there? They all need to be folded in the same direction and the open seams should be pointing toward the same side of the closet, because I cannot control 95% of the things going on in my life, but those damn towels will be neatly folded with the seams all facing one direction when I open the closet door, and that helps me stand to fight another day.

Bless Adam, the man tries, and I know he does, but my mind is running all of the above through it times a thousand constantly without my permission or desire, and I just try to exist day-to-day without becoming overwhelmed and crumbling over the most insignificant things when I have gone over my limit. I have yet to be successful at that, but I am working on it while also trying to keep Adam sane since he has to live with me.

Show Me the Money!

Featured Image: Copyright: ©RichVintage Photography

These last two school terms have been insufferable! Like, wearing-my-shoulders-as-earrings, can’t-move-my-neck, horrid-headaches insufferable. So, we have the issues with financial aid that are still ongoing and who knows when they will be resolved. This is with Adam and me calling student financial services nearly every day and getting such varying responses that eventually culminate in us being told my case is being reviewed. The case has been reviewed since September, supposedly 🙄. The people at SNHU’s financial office are very kind and sympathetic, but they don’t know what’s going on half the time — as we say here, the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand’s doing.

Neither Adam nor I get why things are not moving faster on SNHU’s financial aid department’s part because they have not been paid for my last two terms, which is around $3,000, give or take. They aren’t even getting my Pell grants and whatever else I qualify for that I don’t have to pay back. I have yet to graduate, but that is somewhat on me, but not really.

Because of the recent next-level AI emergence, professors/instructors have been on an unofficial AI witch hunt without any official regulations in place, which has made classes a nightmare not just for me, but loads of SNHU online students who post in the Facebook group. Apparently, which I have witnessed firsthand, students simply cannot sound intelligent/professional and do the work on their own, so must all be utilizing AI. The work then gets sent for review, and I have yet to see any students being found guilty, for lack of a better term that I can’t think of right now.

My work was submitted to the review board more than once last term by the instructor, who whined incessantly about AI in the announcements without providing any proof we students were using it, but that didn’t stop the instructor from failing my assignments as well as my discussion posts and bitching about vagueness and originality, like I was thinking too much and not using enough quotes, which are flagged by TurnItIn as plagiarism; a key reason I prefer to paraphrase and cite instead of quoting 🙄. These fails were after I submitted my work to the college’s writing center and received positive feedback from them, save the discussion posts, which aren’t worth much.

I am an A student except for applied statistics, which I got a C+. The only problems I have had with my grades have been issues with the instructors, like the Shakespeare bitch giving me a zero for a fully formed and thought-out PowerPoint (which should have garnered some points since I did the assignment, even if she wanted to stick me with an F).

I failed last term’s seminar class, which is a capstone, and I chose a different class (I’ve covered this in previous posts) and received the same instructor. This is my last class before graduating. I emailed my student advisor and explicitly told him I would rather not graduate than have to deal with a certain instructor again. He was of no help, told me to stick it out and do my best, blah, blah, blah, and so I started the class. I got the same instructor I spoke to my advisor about.

The first three multiparagraph discussion posts got Fs again and my first milestone (just the paper intro and thesis statement) got a C- with completely unhelpful feedback and accusatory language again. My introduction and thesis statement were checked at the writing center, and they had no problem identifying the thesis and approving it and the introduction. I am dealing with enough stress because of financial aid, unpaid bills, and just a whopping amount of stress, so I stopped participating after week 3. I don’t have the spoons to deal with this guy for another full eight weeks.

I absolutely will not take one of these classes again if I get the same instructor. My degree is for me, and I have principles and a very hard stance regarding them. Obviously, I want to graduate, but I do not handle stress well and it manifests physically, which I cannot tolerate. I am done trying to conform, especially when it is not beneficial to the situation.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Even though I strongly dislike both female leads, I watched Wicked because I’m a Wizard of Oz movie fan. I’ve never read Wicked or seen the play, but had heard good things about the play. I have to say, I love the new movie, and it quickly became my latest comfort movie. Because of it, I started reading the Oz books by L. Frank Baum, which are offered for free on Apple Books as part of their classics collection. There are a ton of classic books for free there!

Due to my writing classes, this year has been one full of thinking about the past and finally trying to work through it and sit with the emotions the memories evoke. Unfortunately, Wicked makes me think of how I was treated by my dad and his second wife (the Ogre – she looks just like Fiona, but ugly).

Dad and the Ogre didn’t really care for either of us kids, but my brother was treated marginally better than I. Dad did steal $12,000 from my brother (of which he used a portion to purchase the Ogre’s engagement ring), after convincing him to not trust banks, and my brother stayed in contact with him after that because of my nieces, so that is where we differed because I went no contact after yet another birthday was missed/forgotten by Dad. For the record, he made zero attempts to contact me after I decided to not chase after him as I had done my entire life. Actually, he never attempted to contact me my entire life…

Presently, watching how Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, is treated by her father in Wicked, and how Elphaba’s sister Nessarose is so favored, really stirred up memories and emotions. Posting these memories and thoughts on social media has been interesting to me since I come from a family that considers “airing dirty laundry” a bad, scandalous thing. I find it therapeutic and like I am seen 🤷‍♀️. My family is mostly on Facebook, so I have my site, IG, and Threads to speak freely, but, honestly, why can’t I speak freely wherever I want? I went through it and live in the aftermath, so I should be able to share it. Plus, I chose to air this dirty laundry because it is directly connected to my poetry and writing that I have chosen to publish. I think sharing some life stories provides context for my published work. It’s not like I have a fan base, anyway, so who’s really going to be reading what I write?

I have been kicking around posting the beginnings of my memoir here that I started in class and continuing it in the blog. Again, I have no readers/online presence to speak of, but I can pretend I do and work through some pent-up feelings in that way. I don’t know what it is, but some people find it helpful having, or imagining, strangers read about their lives and care on some level. I am one of those people. As a writer, there is no feeling quite like when someone tells you they can relate to something you have written and that it has impacted them. I’ve had this happen several times on All Poetry, especially with my latest poems about my childhood, and it just feels like I am connecting with people and making them feel things, which is so cool.

Going back to Wicked, I would recommend seeing it, especially people who love musicals and/or Broadway shows. I don’t like some popular musical movies, like Hairspray, Grease, Mary Poppins, The Sound of Music, to name a few, but if I like the songs, I will watch the heck out of them. I love Sweeney Todd and Repo! The Genetic Opera and The Devil’s Carnival and Cry Baby. Okay, those are pretty dark ones. I also love Disney animated musicals, i.e., Enchanted, Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs (which should be Dwarves, but whatever), Frozen, Tangled, The Little Mermaid (the good one), Beauty & the Beast, and the like.

As mentioned, I am not an Ariana fan and am no longer a Cynthia fan since her uncalled-for outburst (I had only seen her in that El Royale movie, anyway), but the story, singing, songs, acting, and sets are just awesome. Even though I’m a stickler for canon and knowing the narrative, I love the storylines of Wicked and Oz the Great and Powerful (completely separate from the Wicked material). Of course, neither follows the books. Oz… does well as a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. Wicked gives another viewpoint with completely different character names and explanations from Oz…, so I consider it more a fanfiction book/musical/movie. Since they are all entertaining and visually stunning, I have been pretty lax in trying to smoosh them all together.

Adam mentioned Wicked being my new comfort movie, which I found sweet that he noticed. After Mom died, the poor guy had to listen to Frozen multiple times a day for months, then Bob’s Burgers. He knew the songs for both as well as I did! I think we live a very immersive life, and being in the same room 24/7 really solidifies that.

Less Stress? Yes!!

Well…It has been a time, let me tell you. I don’t know what I’ve mentioned and what I haven’t, so I may repeat myself; just pretend it’s for emphasis. I got my cap, gown, honors cord, and diploma holder (frame?) from college, and I was pretty excited. The commencement I’m attending virtually is on December 14, but I have not registered for it because FAFSA is stupid. I consolidated my loans a few weeks or months ago and doing that created an overpayment of $1, which isn’t even an overpayment but some residual from the consolidation.

Note the “Excess Amount”

This could not happen. I can have $32,000 in student loans, but $32,001 is unacceptable? So, these geniuses stop my financial aid and throw me into forbearance and nobody thinks to inform me about it for two months. The only reason I found out is because Adam called the school, but we didn’t find out in the first phone call — oh, no, it took four phone calls with 2- and 3-hour hold times before we were told what was going on.

Fortunately, I am not kicked out of school (yet), and the school financial services people were very nice and empathetic, if a bit in the dark about my account. We are heading into the third month of dealing with this and last term’s aid has not shown up. We’re supposed to receive this term’s aid next week. So…yeah. I’m essentially late in paying for three of my classes through no fault of my own (unless you count me choosing to consolidate loans, then it is my fault) and I am supposed to graduate next month. The fat cherry on that sundae is my last class is a redo. I’m taking Seminar in American Literature instead of Seminar in Global Literature, which I took the last time (I switched to get away from the instructor) and I am stuck with the same instructor who accused me of using AI for my homework (I’m a writer; I don’t rely on AI). The stress has been great, literally and sarcastically.

Speaking of stress, I downloaded StressWatch for my Apple Watch, and it is pretty cool. It uses HRV (heart rate variability) to monitor stress levels and lets me know when I’m becoming stressed. It knows several minutes before I even start to experience symptoms. I also recently downloaded an app called Finch, which is supposed to help with ADHD and executive dysfunction. I shared it with Adam, and we are two little baby finches sending hugs and gratitude to each other while completing goals. It’s very cute.

In other news, I was prescribed an insulin pump and had to cancel my training for it three times because of transportation issues, and Adam and I just figured it out ourselves. Adam reads the book and shows and tells me what to do because I can’t remember what I read and get stuff confused. It was very overwhelming at first, but I’m slowly getting the hang of it. That’s not counting me wasting five infusion sets because I forgot to remove the needle cover for Every. Single. One. I had a mini meltdown and threw one of them away too hard for Adam’s liking, so he came over and put the sixth one on me and it took him, like, five seconds to do.

My amoxapine is helping with my productivity at work, but not my memory and executive dysfunction. I can see why since it’s not a stimulant, but I was hoping. The ADHD has worsened so much since Mom died — either that or she deftly handled my limitations and didn’t make them feel like limitations, which she totally did with my autism. I could feel and think I am being normal (for me) because she had my back, and I just flew through life none the wiser until I got evaluated after she died.

I am Floored

I have a DIY issue in the foreseeable future, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it (advice is welcomed). I will be replacing Mom’s room’s carpeting with vinyl tiles and am mentally running into roadblocks. Firstly, Ollie is a digging pup (more on that below), which is really cute to watch, but I am afraid he is going to try to “dig up” the tiles unless I get the room done in a day. He already digs what’s left of the remaining carpet that I haven’t pulled up before he lies down on it, and he also lies on the floor and digs the carpet padding out from under the carpet that’s under the edge of the bed. Fortunately, he cannot fit under the bed to get at more carpet.

The bed is my next issue. Mom’s bed frame is a queen-size pine sleigh bed and it’s big and heavy. I got a springless mattress and box frame when I replaced the mattress, and they are ridiculous to try to move. It’s like trying to move a dead body. Like, if I need to move the mattress up toward the headboard, I literally cannot do it. It just bends and folds in on itself and won’t go anywhere; Adam has to pick it up and move it, which is hard on him because, as stated, the mattress is heavy.

Because the bed frame is so big, it won’t fit through the doorway in one piece. I thought about tiling the exposed floor, moving the bed, tiling the floor where the bed was, and moving the bed back into place, but since it’s so heavy and not on wheels, I am afraid of messing up or breaking the finished tiles. Plus, the room doubles as my office, so I have Mom’s large desk and the shelves attachment I took off the desk and set beside it so my TV/monitor would fit. I don’t know how much working room I will have, and it seems like it will be kind of Tetris-y if I don’t take anything out of the room. I don’t mind taking stuff out of the room, but my computer needs to be set up and working so I can work. Alas!

Oh! The digging pup! Well, somehow, we have two roses of Sharon growing where they shouldn’t be growing. Mom started a line of them to separate us from the neighbors (they were always sketchy before the landlady’s son, who I attended high school with, put in a house on the property), but these two bushes are right beside the cement porch steps. Actually, I found so much crap on the ground at the back of our side porch and I have no idea how it got there. It looks like a trash bag busted and wasn’t picked up, but we don’t keep the trash near the porch.

I want the bushes moved because one is right up against the steps and I have a feeling the roots are already under them and I don’t want my steps to break. The other one is farther away, but the bushes get big around and will block the steps eventually. Adam started to try and unplant them but they really want to stay. Since Ollie likes to dig, I called him over and started digging, which he joined me. He moved a lot more dirt than I did. He just went to town on it.

Yesterday, I went back out there and started digging at the side of the bush and he took it from there. The bush still won’t budge! However, Ollie did find a smoke alarm, like, 6 inches down at the bottom of the bush! I got rid of one years and years ago, but I have no clue how it made it to the backyard steps. Ollie was very excited about his treasure and Nev really wanted it. They play well together, but when Ollie tells Neville no about something, Nev backs off even though he is eight months older. Maybe because Ollie is 10 feet tall.

Oliver has started blocking when he is playing with Neville, and he’s really good at it. He does what basketball players do with their backs towards the opponent and looking back at them and moving around. The bad thing about this is he is doing it with me. I have acquired so many bruises over the past couple of weeks and I know they’re from the pups. I am very knock-overable, so I’m trying to get them to stop being so aggressive with me, which is going…okay.

We’ve been casually working on them not jumping up on me when I’m standing or walking. It’s very hard trying to train Ollie with Nev there because they influence each other and a lot of times it’s not good influence. Ollie is much more stubborn and wants to do his own thing; Nev really spoiled me because he was a breeze. I wish Adam had continued his training using actual training methods and not just yelling like a psycho.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

We got a party going on here!! There are some aesthetic changes and new pages here for my new media class, which is a very interesting class about expanding one’s online presence and creating a website. If I mentioned all this before, I apologize. I already have my site, but I never had a WiP page or author page. Okay, this all seems really familiar…

Anyway, sadly, the pink font had to go due to being hard on the eyes, so I chose yellow and I don’t know if it’s better, as bad, or worse. It doesn’t bother me, but I read what I write in the WordPress editor in black and white. White is just too “blah,” so I can do a super pale yellow if I need to. If it’s hard to read, just drop me a comment!

I’ve named my second poetry collection, and I think it’s a catchy title! I also created the cover, which I really like except the title may be hard to read as well. Color me autistic, but somebody who followed me on Threads commented on my first poetry collection and asked if I minded telling my readers where I got my cover art (Canva, purchased from the artist, btw – which is awesome and an indie author’s dream). I said, “No, why would I mind that?” They didn’t answer me, so I don’t know what that was about. Maybe don’t ask if you don’t really want to know 🤷. I’ve been busy getting in trouble, which is a lot easier and more frequent when you don’t look autistic and your filter is no longer alive, so that’s been fun.

I begin my last term in a couple of weeks, and I have the same guy who (falsely) accused me practically every week of using AI. He was “reporting” me to the school, but since he was merely on an AI witch hunt, like a lot of the professors since AI became public, and I do my own work, nothing came of it except I don’t like him now. People can and do write one way in forums/discussions and another academically in papers and projects. Duh. I emailed my advisor and told him I really don’t care if I graduate if it means I have to take his class. I am already suffering from major college burnout, and I don’t know if I can tolerate eight weeks of him again.

Adam’s next classes are intermediate poetry workshop and context of writing. I didn’t like the context of writing one because it’s query letters and drafting an author bio, but it wasn’t too difficult. I had a crap teacher for the workshop but I had the teacher I liked for the advanced workshop after that, so I was cool. If it’s not noticeable, I hold grudges, even though I don’t mean to.

Invisible (Social) Disabilities in a Chronically Online World

As a society, online and in person, people from many countries are on a mission that I won’t get into, but the themes are unity, tolerance, and acceptance — unless you’re overweight, unattractive, disabled, or disagree with the popular narrative. As a whole, the disability angle seems to be improving except for those with invisible disabilities and/or disabilities that affect social and communication skills. Online, people get nasty (that seems to be the default now), and if you mention suffering from one of the socially-impaired disabilities, you’re accused of making excuses or outright lying. As an agoraphobic hermit, I’ll be referring to the online community.

In short, people don’t like being disagreed with or someone being objective. My PDA (pathological demand avoidance) and ODD causes me to be a devil’s advocate, and even suggesting a different view places me as the enemy to whomever I’m speaking with, and they respond with the typical name-calling and labels instead of engaging in actual discussion or, Heaven forbid, acknowledging a different point of view.

I’m neither liberal nor conservative, meninist nor feminist, and I couldn’t care less about someone’s sexual orientation or transgenderism. However, I argue both sides of the coin because of my PDA/ODD. Those arguments say nothing about my views, as I will not discuss my views on social media. Objectivity does not mean choosing a side, and people can certainly be in the middle on any societal issue.

Take abortion for example. Being in the medical field for almost 20 years, I know for a fact that some women use abortion as a form of birth control (many have admitted it to the doctors and medical staff). It’s not hyperbole or extremism; simply fact. It would probably be less of an issue with abortion pills, but surgical abortions pose a serious health risk to women and that risk gets higher with each abortion performed. So, when someone is 100% for abortions for any reason, it’s easy to argue against that validly. Likewise, I am a firm believer in staying out of women’s healthcare and uteri. When someone is 100% against abortions and cites their religious views as the reason, it’s easy to argue against that as well. And I will argue both at any given time because of that pesky defiance part. I strive to disrupt the echo chamber.

Online, none of the above is acceptable to 98% of people. Now, I don’t do this stuff on purpose to argue and be a contrarian; it’s part of my social disability. However, that doesn’t stop me from being labeled as some kind of -ist or -phobe or bigot; whatever buzzword of the day to make others feel superior. The ones doing such don’t know my views; they only know my valid arguments and what I want the online world to see, but that never matters, and it’s really annoying.

Adam gets and accepts it because he’s used to it, but does one really need to justify someone who can argue both sides and be objective? Is one’s fund of knowledge so small and conceit so large that they can’t take even reading a different perspective without lobbing assumptions and insults?

~*~Stormy Nights~*~

I feel the floor vibrate in time 

with the rolling thunder, 

like standing in the cab 

of an idling semi —

I don’t like it.  

I hop onto the bed with my Bernie.

He takes me in his arms, 

covers me in kisses — 

pauses to receive kisses to his nose.  

His breath smells like cat poop — 

his favorite snack.  

Lightning bathes the room in white — 

a flash photo of utter calm.  

There is talk of a severe thunderstorm — 

Alexa always knows these things.  

The bed vibrates —

lick, lick — smooch, smooch — snuggle, snuggle.  

It’s going to be a long night.

I wrote this poem while it was storming one night, of course. I have sensory processing issues with sound, among others, but I’m not a fan of lightning, either. Mom always thought it was weird that I hate thunder because the lightning is the stuff that can be dangerous, but I don’t choose disliking loud (or repetitive) noises! Before Adam moved into the bedroom, I would get on the bed with Ollie and we would cuddle while it stormed.

The Plight of the Pet Parent

Well, the novelty of my desk drawer has worn off for the cats, so I now have a cushy empty drawer with potting soil sprinkled in it. Oh, why is potting soil in it? Well, Phin (my blind boy) loves greenery and will go to the ends of the earth to find it and eat it, and I just got an African violet yesterday at Lowe’s. He hadn’t bothered it while I was awake, so I thought the leaves didn’t appeal to him. I was wrong. He knocked it off while eating it while I was asleep and it landed in the drawer. When I got up, he went over and got on the shelf and was trying to find it but I had tossed it. Meanwhile, Miss Willow stays on my desk all the time unless I open the window.

Their food and water are on my desk because of the dogs, so they hang around me or Phin lies on his dad. Phin is a little badass. He has always been such a brave little toaster, especially for being blind, and that hasn’t changed with the pups. He cautiously makes his way off the desk and just saunters over to the dogs’ water fountain and drinks out of it. Sometimes he runs into Neville’s legs or feet when Nev is sleeping on the floor, but he just corrects his trajectory a little and keeps going. When the pups sniff him, he has no problem smacking the crap out of their noses. It scares Ollie, which is hilarious, but he keeps on sniffing Phin and jerking back with each smack. I think cats’ smacks are the equivalent of Rocky’s punches the way that the pups react.

For being rather stern dog parents, the boys are huge babies! Adam chooses yelling over training, so he yells at Neville all the time, but when something scares him or I give him medicine or correct him, he runs to Adam and gets on his lap. A 120+ pound Lab crawls on his dad’s lap like a baby.

With Ollie, he gets his feelings hurt very easily (common for the breed), so when he gets in trouble or thinks he is in trouble, he comes over to get a hug and kisses. I may have mentioned it before, but I’ve kissed him on the nose since bringing him home and he loves it. He gets in front of me and nudges me with his nose until I kiss him. If he wants multiple kisses, he keeps nudging my nose. Sometimes he kisses me at the same time, which I do not appreciate. He is just the sweetest little thing. He’s also very floppy and likes being held like a baby even though he’s ~130 pounds. Since he’s so tall, we can only hold his upper body in our arms. He likes to get in front of me on the bed, sit down, and just trust fall into my arms. They are sweet boys but haven’t let me get much sleep!

One More for the Road

I am now at four works in progress and I’m beginning to think I am the problem 😏. I don’t think I have it in me to write a full-length fiction novel. I get bored and “stuck” very quickly and throw what I’m working on to the side so I can start something new. I mean, I never could read an RL Stine book without skipping to the last chapter, so why would I think I could write all the way through?

My “voice” is strongest and most authentic when I’m writing non-fiction. I have masked for so long that it’s hard to allow myself to come through, but I am learning to do that and it’s most evident in my poetry and new WiP. But even with poetry, I get feedback that I use a lot of classic and traditional words and phrases. I’m not totally sure what that means, but people agreed with the analysis, so it wasn’t just one person.

Anyway, for my advanced creative writing workshop, I have to write a “primary piece” that is not my normal genre (which is poetry). I chose non-fiction because I am most comfortable with that, and I started writing about my life. I’m about 2,000 words in and it’s already painful. I’ve been sitting here crying out of hurt and anger.