Tag: Writing

It’s Been a Long Time Coming…

G’day! I was waiting around to post until something positive happened, but that didn’t happen, so here I am. Black Betty was a complete bust and waste of money 😞. A local mechanic finally made it around to look at the strut, and he said it’s not driveable. That, plus the jack went through the body when Adam jacked it up for him 🙄. The guy actually told Adam to call the police because the truck never should have passed inspection. I think Adam did call them. When Adam called the garage that inspected it, the owner said it wasn’t he who did the inspection. For the record, whether he personally did it or not, it’s his garage and he’s still responsible and on the line for it. I really, really wanted a truck and fell in love with Black Betty without even riding in her.

The local mechanic does work for our neighbor, who vouched for our character (wish I could say the same for the mechanic’s character), and he told Adam he was given a car to tune up and sell. The car happened to have belonged to another neighbor, one of Mom’s coworkers and friends for 19 years. We knew the car was maintained well. It was a 2002 Buick, and he said he would sell it to us for $500. He had done some work on it, and it was good to go. Adam told him yes, after talking with me, and it would be about a month before we had the money. Guy said fine. It was parked and it wasn’t a problem.

A month passes, we get the $500, and Adam contacts the guy. We wait…And wait…And wait. About three weeks later, Adam finally gets to talk to the guy. He gave Adam the story that he drove the car to PA and it broke down and he left it there 🤔🤔. Sure, buddy. Just tell us you were a snake and sold it out from under us. If I was selling someone a car and it wasn’t my personal car that I was driving in the interim (which it wasn’t for him), I wouldn’t be driving it, period. It was slated for someone else, and it’s just the right thing to do. I mean, it was a month. It didn’t take us six months to get the money. And he said that was fine, just contact him when we had it. To make things clear, we did not approach him and ask to buy the car, we did not set the price, we did not ask for any charity from him. It was all on him, and then he pulled it out from under us. So, no vehicle in sight. Five years and counting.

We can’t even make it to medical appointments because ModivCare (a medical rideshare for those with transportation issues, through our health insurance) is crap and either cancels the rides the day of or just doesn’t show up at all.

This dress is fire.

On a lighter note, Taylor Swift’s new album came out on the 3rd and I’ve been bopping to that ever since. I was very excited and could hardly wait until midnight. I love the entire album, and while I wasn’t completely sold on the showgirl aesthetic, I do love some of the outfits, like the jeweled dress above. I really wanted to get a CD, but didn’t have the money at the time. She even released special ones for $7.99, but I still didn’t have it at the time 😞. Oh, well. I do have Spotify and Apple Music for $10 combined, so I’ve been streaming it. I think my favorites right now are Elizabeth Taylor, Opalite, and Father Figure. That combo got me downvoted on Reddit because it’s Reddit, and that site is a total cesspool.

Being a hermit, I yearn for some virtual human interaction, but most places are full of trash and/or way too left for me. Believe it or not, I don’t like being called names, which is what they do best, especially when confronted with facts or asking for sources for their claims. I’ll stick to talking with Copie. But I digress.

My Spotify Wrapped is going to be very female-oriented because Adam and I adore Taylor, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, and Billie Eilish. I like some male singers, of course, but the girls have been my jam this year. Benson Boone and Lewis Capaldi are awesome, as well as Teddy Swims. Ooh, and The Bacon Brothers!!

~*~Hate Comes to Campus~*~

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.

~*~This Side of the Dirt~*~

This side of the dirt,
alcohol splits purple skin.  
Words drill tender skulls
that become DNA.  

This side of the dirt,
home is where the horror is — 
Rhythmic screams become lullabies.  
Walls remember what the wounded won’t.  

This side of the dirt,  
Memories fade with bruises.  
Forgiveness blooms in a good day.  
Muscle memory elicits laughter.  

This side of the dirt,  
I bury my name  
beneath the porch — 
it can’t echo when they curse it.  

This side of the dirt,  
Roots grow from stupors — 
They hold me still and loyal,  
never safe.  

This side of the dirt,  
I write on skin with blood — 
he learned to hit
beneath the clothes. 

This side of the dirt,  
they speak kindly of the dead.  
Kindness was a language  
he never knew.  

This side of the dirt,  
they eulogize a missed man — 
wish him peace.  
Peace fled every room he entered.  

This side of the dirt,  
I cried over his coffin — 
my soul screamed 
in relief and exhaustion.  

This side of the dirt,  
they plant flowers on his grave — 
I plant silence in my throat. 
It blooms each time he’s called “beloved.”

…And, Yes, I Raised My Left Hand

I used up all of my spoons before 9:30 a.m. today, and I didn’t even leave the house. Today is a day that will go down in infamy — in my head. I had my disability hearing this morning, and discovered I would crumple like a piece of tissue paper and confess to any crime I never committed if I ever set foot on a witness stand. Nobody would have to say a word to me, just look at me sternly. I would be Law & Order dun-done! It all started smoothly with me raising my left hand before finally switching to my right 🙄. Fortunately, they could not see me since the hearing was over the phone.

The judge asked me questions first, and that was nerve-wracking in itself. If I didn’t answer the question correctly because I didn’t understand what he was asking of me, he just repeated the question verbatim without rephrasing or any kind of explanation. That was very intimidating to me and made me feel stupid. When my lawyer questioned me, it was easier because he would rephrase or elaborate when I didn’t understand what he was asking of me.

Notably, and embarrassingly, my lawyer asked me if I was “bad at falling,” to which I replied that, no, I was good at falling, and he asked if I was saying I fall frequently or do not fall. After thinking on it, I understood what was being asked and felt very autistic in that moment. While Adam would understand my answer and clarify the question for me, I fear the judge thought I was being a smartass or pedantic, which I wasn’t. I simply did not feel I had the time to think on the answers, especially with how quickly the questions were being asked. This happened with several questions.

I got choked up on questions regarding Mom’s death, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, and self-harm. I know it had to just kill Adam that he couldn’t comfort me since he wasn’t supposed to be in the same room at the time.

The social security people provided an expert to detail which jobs I would be able to do with my level of disabilities, and that was even more nerve-wracking for me because I could not refute any of the listed jobs, which the jobs were so obscure, and none could be done from home (I’m agoraphobic), and I certainly couldn’t do the ones she mentioned due to carpal tunnel and arthritic hands. There were only three available sedentary jobs they felt I could do, which were mail sorter, eyeglass lens polisher, and “electronics checker.” Where do they find these jobs?

She named even more jobs that were “light duty,” not sedentary, but when my lawyer cross-examined her and asked how many of those jobs could be done by someone with a history of falling who needs some assistance walking, she replied, “None.” He thought that was a promising answer.

Regardless, there are zero jobs that were listed that I could do in my home, on my own flexible schedule with as many breaks as I require. I spoke of my job I’ve been doing for 19 years and how difficult it is to do because of ADHD, and how it takes me an entire day to eke out two hours’ worth of work. I also mentioned how I am paid by production, meaning I get paid solely for what I produce even though I have to do research in my work frequently.

As mentioned, my lawyer felt confident about the hearing and told me so after I spoke with him after the hearing concluded. I told him how frustrating it was that I could not refute the jobs listed, and he understood my frustration but was pleased with how few job opportunities they came up with. There is an automatic appeal process that will take place if the verdict is not in my favor, but after that, it would go to a federal appeal court, which I really don’t want to do. Of course, I can file again in the future, but the process takes over two years each time. By that time, however, I would have more medical documentation and evidence to provide to the court. So, now, we wait.

Incident at Chairnoble

So, Phin has a new routine I’m not thrilled about. He is my blind black cat who is a little badass and Brave Little Toaster. He likes to get on the back of my desk chair and sleep, but lately he’s been sleeping sleeping and subsequently falls off. If he’s lucky, he falls onto the back of my neck, sometimes digging his claws into my head or neck. If he is really asleep, he stays there for a while without waking. If he’s not lucky, the poor guy falls to the floor 😞. However, along with being a badass, he is extremely stubborn, so he just walks around the chair, feels for the arm of the chair, and jumps up and climbs back onto the chair back once more. Rinse and repeat. All day while I’m working.

Now, some might say, Why don’t you come up with something so he won’t fall off? And I say to them, We did. Well, we tried. First, I put my panda hoodie on my chair back, zipped it up, and put Mom’s Steelers pillow in the hood. When he fell, theoretically he would fall onto the pillow, and the hood would keep him from thumping to the floor. Theoretically.

So stubborn that he would lay the wrong direction, with his butt against my neck

That was not the case. He just fell onto the pillow, then trampolined to the floor. I went to the spare room/closet to brainstorm while looking at all the wood and disassembled furniture I kept for such things. I had an idea! I told Adam what I wanted, and he started building. I’m the idea-er, he’s the implementer. The finished product was awesome. Adam used some metal rods from a cart and some wood and his handyman know-how to make a platform that went over the back of the chair. It was an incredible eyesore, but I loved it. I put my hoodie on top, and it made a lovely little, sturdy bed with plenty of room.

I may have written about this before.

That little jerk refused to stay up there. He tried it out, said, Nope, and got down. I put him up there repeatedly whenever he would come to get on me, but he was having none of it.

So, this is where we are now. We feel bad for him every time he falls, but then remember how he snubbed a great thing and…feel bad for him anyway because that’s what it is like to have kids.

That’s So Racist!

Daily writing prompt
What is a word you feel that too many people use?
View all responses

There are so many, and some bring out the controversial side in me, but I’m at peace with that. If anyone spends any amount of time on Reddit, they will see a pattern of buzz words that flow through the site. Terms like bodily autonomy, parentalization, infantilization, parasocial, transphobic, TERF, narcissist(ic), homophobic, bigot, racist, to name a few. What the Reddit parrots don’t realize is the over-saturation of these words is akin to the story of the boy who cried wolf. All meaning is stripped from these words because they are overused and used incorrectly and/or used merely as an insult towards someone who dares to disagree with the loud minority. Not to mention, homophobic and transphobic aren’t even “real” words and do not accurately describe people who have differing views and opinions on those hot-button topics. But I digress. I honestly hate Reddit, but it’s pretty much the only place where I have any interaction with people outside the house. Ironically, it keeps me from wanting to ever leave the house.

Now, I love Chinese food. It’s one of my favorite cuisines, and I would eat it nearly every day if I could. In my family, it is a thing to say someone who likes something a lot is going to “turn into” something, just to emphasize that someone is really into something. Adam eats sandwiches every day, usually peanut butter sandwiches or something like bologna and cheese. I’ve made the comment that he is going to turn into a sandwich.

Since I love Chinese food, Mom used to tell me I was going to turn into a Chinese person from eating it so much. Nowadays (that sounds so old), that would be considered “racist.” My mom’s now a big honkin’ racist. At this point, it’s a knee-jerk reaction because someone who is non-Chinese dared to say the word(s) Chinese/Chinese person in relation to something that is relative and accurate to Chinese people. (The horror! The tragedy!) I wonder how these people feel about the song Turning Japanese…

The Jeans Have It

Daily writing prompt
Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.
View all responses

I’m not sure if this is entirely uninteresting or just eyeroll-inducing, but there is a Boy Who Cried Wolf karma going on here and that possibly adds to my complete apathy.

The sweet, adorable, talented Sydney Sweeney was in an American Eagle ad very recently, and the loudest echochamber in the US lost its collective mind. I laughed when I saw the commercial. AE wordplays with jeans and genes, and states Sydney Sweeney has great genes jeans, and her jeans are blue. She speaks of how genes are passed down to children and affect a person’s attributes. All facts, which the dissenters take issue with facts to begin with.

The TikTok crowd is ready to fight, which isn’t surprising, and yelling Nazi this and Hitler that, which is totally insulting and trivializing an actual atrocity known as the Holocaust. When a white-that-week, blonde-haired Beyonce dropped her Levi’s ad, it was heralded as empowering and boss and feminist. When a beautiful, white, blonde-haired, blue-eyed actress dropped her ad, it’s Nazi propaganda. Seriously.

Because, you see, one can’t have great genes (dropping the jeans pretense) if they are white. Asians can have great genes, blacks can have great genes, Hispanics can have great genes, Italians can have great genes, and on. In the US, white people are supposed to slink around and self-flagellate for at least the next hundred years. You can’t say it’s okay to be white, because it isn’t, according to the racists and white apologists. I am certainly connected to this ad because I am an Irish American/Native American who sees the constant anti-white racism and extreme anti-right/right-of-center online every day. It’s everywhere and completely acceptable. It’s unchecked mental illness, it’s encouraged, and it’s scary.

To say one has great genes is not saying others do not by default. Nowhere is it stated better genes/jeans. Period. It’s not an either/or like so many want people to believe. My cousins have great genes. My gorgeous husband has great genes in the eyes and jawline department. My genes kind of suck, but I can appreciate other people’s great genes without causing an uproar and trying to destroy someone’s life. (As of this writing, Ms. Sweeney is being harassed publicly and dox’d, with her voter registration made more public than it was as public record in her state of residence.)

Nobody mentions that the super-cute “Sydney Sweeney jean’s” entire profits are going to a domestic abuse program, as did her ad salary. They just wish career destruction and death on her because she is out there doing her job and making a living.

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.

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.

~*~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.