Prove me Wrong…
A debate in good faith
with a young man of faith —
unabashedly so.
Hate proved him right.
They gathered to argue —
Agree —
Learn —
Teach —
Except for one.
Hate came to silence it all.
Its ideology whistled
through the charged air,
tore through the neck —
Of a kind man —
A husband —
A father —
A forever hopeful who held love for all.
His respect for others did not stop
at opposing beliefs.
Hate etched its intentions on bullets —
(hey, fascist, catch!) —
Its voice exploded in a red waterfall.
His little girl ran to him
as life left his body.
She sought comfort — reassurance —
not knowing her world was changed.
His views were not mine.
His words were not mine.
But death is nonpartisan.
Grief does not ask how you vote.
We mourn in fragments and forums,
in soundbites and silence.
We mourn because
Hate came to campus,
and it never left.
Tag: School
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.
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.
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.
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.
First Day of School!
School is back in session! We had a week off, which is awesome because I am suffering from school burnout pretty badly. This term, I have a “new media” class and an advanced creative writing workshop. The new media is about writing using different media, mainly digital (online), from what I can tell. It’s a requirement for my English/creative writing major. The advanced creative writing workshop is the last workshop before graduating, and from what I can tell with it, I have to write in a different genre than my major concentration. My concentration is poetry, so I have to write something that’s not that.
I think I’m going with non-fiction because I’m eyeing writing a memoir. I have a second poetry collection and two fiction novels started, so I’m going to have another work in progress in progress 🤣🤣. I’ve been hesitant to declare I am writing a memoir because my ADHD has my memory in shreds and I’m honestly not that interesting. I think writing essays would suit me, but I really don’t understand what that means. I think of schoolwork when I think of essays, not full-on novels.
I did read a book in class by a popular essayist, Dave or Dan Sedaris (I’ll look him up in a minute), and that gave me some insight, but I don’t know if I could do it. I’m not interesting and don’t have a lot to say on multiple subjects even if they are stories from my life. Plus, my brain goes eighty different directions on a good day, so wrangling my thoughts for several essays sounds intimidating. Okay, the essayist is David Sedaris. I had to read Me Talk Pretty One Day, an intentional title that nonetheless drove me bonkers.
Adam has philosophy and literary theory this term, both classes I’ve taken. I chose the philosophy class as it’s an elective but it was kind of boring to me. It was an easy A, but didn’t make me really think about things like I assumed it would. Of course, when I am passionate about something and want to talk about it, I get all flustered and confuse myself so I can’t have coherent, rational conversations with people 😒. Most of my thoughts on certain subjects culminate in me fervently stating, “I hate people!,” and Adam’s like, “Yeah, I know. Me, too.” Real head-scratching debates take place in this house. One such subject that my husband and I agree on (we disagree on some things because we are autonomous) is inclusive, “tolerant” people being intolerant to intolerant people.
Now, of course, online that is met with hatred, ignorance, and name-calling. Obviously, I’m a bigot, racist, sexist, transphobe, homophobe, etc., because I think for myself and don’t have utopian delusions. You have the same values as me? That’s fine. You have differing values than me? That’s fine, too. People I come into contact with online cannot wrap their heads around this and it’s gross. I have a large family, and some are left, some are right, some are middle. We all get along. No, we don’t all agree on the big three (religion, abortion, sexuality) and that’s fine. We can feel how we want, vote how we want, and remain friendly and a family.
In terms of the online space, to say you are tolerant and inclusive, then boot people from online communities that have nothing to do with values or politics or whatever you want to call it, that’s just…not being tolerant and inclusive. Reddit is really bad about it, and there are people there who freely and loudly admit to creeping on users and banning those users if they visit or join communities the creepers don’t agree with. Like, WTH, people? That is not tolerant and that is certainly not inclusive. The people being kicked aren’t starting crap and politicizing anything; they’re actually the ones sticking to the sub’s topic, unlike the “tolerant” people on a power kick. I’m getting myself irritated so I will stop there.
I bought security cameras after our riding lawn mower was stolen from our driveway, which is a bad time to buy them, but I didn’t know they would be affordable and I didn’t know some losers would steal our mower that had a flat tire (I didn’t know Adam had left it in the driveway, either). They were $17 apiece and are HD and surprisingly nice cameras (Wyze). They alert me when people, pets, vehicles, or packages are detected and I was alerted twice yesterday that a pet was detected on the porch. My thought each time was it was Gandi and our flowerbed is a Pet Sematary, and I stopped myself from checking the footage both times. We now have Sprinkles, Merlin, and Gandi in our flowerbed in front of the driveway.
Crafting Stories and Managing Chaos
So, it’s been fun here! I’m totally burnt out on school, but I think I only have three classes before I graduate! Plus, one of my classes next term is another workshop, and I really like those. Yay! I was working on my first novel (crazy, right?), a few thousand words in, and just really having a hard time with it and thinking it stunk and I stunk, so what did I do? I started another one! I’ve switched from third person present to first person present and I have more words with this second one than I did with the first, which the former took me weeks. I am enjoying the story more and really want to know what happens.
Oh, and authors, if you want a great program to do your writing on, you have to get Scrivener! It is the best writing/editing program I’ve ever used. There’s a steep learning curve with it but after you get comfortable, it seems like the features are very intuitive. Plus, there are tutorials users have written which are very helpful. I’ll screenshot below, which is the program with a theme I selected (Mellow Yellow). The normal program is normal colors and normal font 😊. For $60, it is a steal, and no subscription! I used it to do my poetry collection, and the ebook and print copies look very professional.
Part of Adam coming back from the dead is him actually giving a crap about things and he’s totally not used to it. He’s started thinking about things I always have to think about to run the house and he’s not too fond of it 🤣🤣. Unfortunately, a couple of negative things have occurred. He’s begun thinking about his past addiction (kudos to him for telling me), which I get because he’s a metaphorical runner and tries to get away from dealing with life in any way he can, and he’s been staying with me in Mom’s room for the past month.
Now, I don’t mind him being in here at all, but having the dogs together all day can get nerve-wracking. I was used to cuddling with Ollie and him sleeping by me, and now he’s always playing with Nev or sleeping with him. Plus, the two bozos are very unaware of themselves and others, so when they come in and have a poop run through the house, they jump on the bed and right on me while I’m sleeping! Not a great way to wake up. They are also very butt-y, and I’m getting hit in the legs with butts every time I’m walking 🙄. A good thing is Neville is so smart and easy to train and Ollie tries to follow his lead when I try to teach him something…sometimes. We are working on them not running ahead of me or bowling me over when I take them out, which they are learning. Nev knows what “get back” means and Ollie watches him and scoots back and sits down, for the most part.
Oh, I also have my cat, Phin, and Adam’s cat, Willow, on the desk all the time that they aren’t in the window. I legit have a small litterbox sitting on the desk in front of me because Willow is skittish around the pups. Oh, oh!! I was cleaning out my desk drawer and Willow decided it would make the perfect bed, so…
Then, Phin thought that was a good idea, so…
And I’m happy to report they found a great compromise…
Since I don’t spoil my kids at all, I have the top of our small ottoman on the desk, top down, and a bath mat in it so they each have a place to sleep if they don’t want to share. Ah, family…
In the Garden of Remorse Free Preview
Check out the poems titles and read my introduction for free! Also, if you have Kind Unlimited, you can read the entire collection!! I would also be more than happy to sign any paperback or hardcover copies.
~*~Colors of Death~*~
Death leaves a mark
on those left behind —
A tattoo on the soul,
a rainbow of lines.
The deep green of envy
for those who’ve not lost —
Blissfully ignorant of
what love really costs.
The anger burns white,
much hotter than red —
It courses through the chest
and leaves a lingering dread.
Yellow is the fear
to face the world alone —
A fear of being lost
in a world of unknown.
Blue is the calm,
a serene, soothing haze —
Not one to remain,
it hits us in waves.
Red is the love,
the one thing that’s real —
It’s something to cling to
while we try to heal.
So Long, Shakespeare!!
The 80-year school term is finally over! I haven’t looked at final grades because it makes me too anxious, but I think I got a B in Shakespeare 😒😒. My first non-A since Applied Statistics. I guess that’s not bad since I received two (unearned) Fs on two assignments. I’m disputing these grades through the university dispute/resolution department.
For my intermediate poetry workshop final poetry collection, I was told I am too poemy, tortured, and dramatic. Yeah, my life has sucked at times and poetry is how I prod myself to deal and heal. Sorry I am not Mother Goose 🤷♀️, although she could get pretty dark, too. Not to mention, what kind of person calls another complete stranger “tortured”? ‘Scuse me??
I guess I use “you” too much in my poetry as well, but what else do you (see??) call an audience? I can’t litter my poems with thee, thy, or one (as in, “how would one feel…” instead of “how would you feel…”); that would look pretentious, impersonal, and weird. I swear, my poetry instructor would rather shoot herself in the foot than give a compliment. I hope I don’t act like her after I’m published; I’d rather shoot myself in the foot!
Anyway, those classes are finished (aside from the dispute), and I’ve been complaining way too much on here, so I’m putting all that behind me 😊😊. Adam was a complete prince on my birthday and didn’t wish me a happy birthday at all! Since April is Death Month, he knows that I do not like to have my birthday acknowledged. He came and told me he knew what the day was but he wasn’t going to mention it, i.e., wish me happy birthday, because that is my wish, and I thought it was very sweet. I have been 29 for a few years and often forget my real age when doctors ask.
Speaking of, I’m going to see a surgeon about my hernia next week. I know it’s an absolute mess in there and I feel bad for the guy or gal who will be rooting around in my tummy. The pain has improved since Neville hasn’t been using me as a trampoline but I still want to see the surgeon. I had my hernia repair over ten years ago and people with mesh repairs usually have to have revisions.
I did the trash up and took it out because Adam was sleeping and I didn’t know he had set an alarm to get up and take it out (I’ve not taken the trash out for 15 years). I had Neville go with me to the bins because it was dark outside and I don’t like going down near the road at night. I gave him a trash bag to pull so he could help me and it didn’t go well 😂. It started out okay with him pulling it and following me but when we got close to the bin, he ran back up in the yard and started shaking the bag because he thought we were playing.
So, I have started training him in the living room to hold (without shaking) a bag and carry it while following me. He is really so smart. I started with a grocery bag with some things in it and I put some clothes in a garbage bag for me to carry across the room with him following me. He gets a little excited and shakes the bag when we get to our destination, but if I tell him to sit, he does so and stops shaking the bag. Recently, he has learned how to throw things with his mouth, which is hilarious but not a desired trick and nothing we taught.
After a couple of trips across the room, I switched bags so I have the grocery bag and he had the heavier, bigger trash bag. We’re doing this blind because I could not find a video for training a dog to carry a bag around, although I did find ones to teach them how to put their toys in a box and to put trash in a trash can. I had Ollie in the living room as well to practice distraction training for Neville, so Ollie received some participation treats 😂. It is a work in progress, but Nev is very eager to please and food-driven and he picks up on things very quickly. With Ollie, he has learned how to sit and come to me, but he is less eager to please than his brother.
~*~Behind Windshields~*~
At the end of the driveway, we waited.
I was still chasing after my father —
a man who never wanted to carry that label,
who wore his defiance like a well-tailored suit.
He was my town, adorned with a
shimmering crown made from
razorblades and lies.
Their brake lights shone like nebulae
frozen in a night sky — long forgotten,
yet so desperate to remain seen.
She told me not to come,
banned me from his home.
I shrunk from her emerald gaze,
turning a mirror in place of
the other cheek for ten years.
Never a word from them —
No calls —
No cards —
No contact —
as it had been my entire life.
I could not approach my dying father,
but he would wave to me.
Wave to his only daughter,
the only one who defended him —
Out of love —
Out of fear —
Out of shame —
to hide that she was undeserving of love.
With tears dripping off my cheeks, I waved —
each of us behind windshields.
A final wave through distorted panes.
A silent goodbye to years of pain.
A silent hello to years more.
Cari R Esta 