#esendoran

oliver was full of personality: smart, spicy, and a definite cuddlebug. once, at the vet, she famously climbed up onto my shoulders and then puked in my hair.

The administration decided to do this thing where they brought in Alumni to talk about their lives and their areas of expertise. There were 3 sessions. Here we go:

Session 1: The class was entitled “fiction publishing” and I was like, I like fiction! Let’s do this! Fast forward to about 10 minutes into the class there’s a 57 yr old woman wearing a cartoon unicorn shirt standing up front talking about her experience writing furry porn (sorry, shifter erotica). On top of that, her entire spiel was incredibly heteronormative with undertones of misogyny. 0/10 if it were possible to erase memories, this class would be the first to go.

Session 2: The class promised to teach us how to sell a story, and goddamn if it didn’t live up to that promise. The dude was engaging, funny, energetic, and now I know the most effective way to get an extension on a paper. 10/10 would have intellectual conversations with over coffee.

Session 3: The title of this class spoke to my soul - “I still don’t know what I’m doing (and that’s okay).” The girl teaching it had everything you could want in a speaker/friend/soulmate - cookies, punk rock, and self-deprecating humor. We sat around, talked to her a bit, heard about her life and her experiences, and I left with a little less fear of the future. 13/10 would hug and also have deep convos with at 2 AM.

when my mom and dad died and i moved in to their house to take care of the pets, etc., my apartment landlord wouldn’t let me break my lease.

10 months later, i’ve finally been able to pack up and get out… but it’s been bittersweet.

my dad helped me move in to this apartment. yesterday, as the movers— who i paid with money my mom once gave me— moved my things out, i noticed the chip my dad accidentally put in the coffee table while rolling it down the sidewalk, years ago.