The end.

Fall classes ended last night for me, thank God. I am exhausted. I took a full course load this term, and it was a lot. I am scaling back to half-time for the winter session since we have Thanksgiving, Christmas, all three of my kid's birthdays, and we are going on a cruise towards the end of term.

This term was an adventure. I have been taking all online courses until this fall. I like the online courses. I like the annonimity and working at my own pace. I took math online which was, again, no sweat for me. I got an A in the class. The overall class average was a low 'C' which seriously frightens me.

My English class this term was more challenging than last term. It was also online and we had to write a 10-15 page research paper in proper MLA format over the course of the term. It didn't turn out to be as bad as I thought, but it was stressful. I now know I was never meant to be a researcher, historian, or fact checker. But I think it turned out well. I had an 'A' average before the final paper grade. I got docked on my rough draft for some MLA errors and a weak conclusion. I am confident I fixed those things, and now I am just waiting on my final grade.

My last class I took at an actual campus, and that was an adventure. I decided to take creative writing, and I was really excited about the class too-until I got there. Our instructor was...different and the class was eclectic, lets say. I had a hard time with this class. I have OCD as you all know, so being in a class where there was no 'right' or 'wrong' was making me twitch. Except there sort of was because the instructor had some definite opinions about what made good writing. Let's just say that our ideas of good writing was nowhere close to each other's. He abhors rhyming, love, emotions, dragons, space, cliches, morals, and anything that is 'traditional' poetry. He loves poems about vomit, sex, drunkenness, other bodily functions, and death. By the end of the class I was pretty sure if I heard the words 'concrete' or 'specific' again I was going to scream-and I was going to make it rhyme. But, I did have a good time. I think I learned a few things. The challenge was good for me and I was pleased with my final portfolio overall. So I will leave you with a sampling of my work. The haikus were sort of a class joke. We tried to sneak them, and dragons and space, in to irritate the teacher. Enjoy.

Pretty Boy

You strutted into the near empty gym just after nine.

Rows and rows of empty machines wait to be abuse

but you had to park your over chiseled muscles

onto the treadmill next to me the overweight mother of three.

I cannot keep up with the rythmic thumping

of your feet. You go nowhere while raindrops of sweat

pour out of you and onto your sweat soaked shirt that is color

coordinated to your shorts and shoes. Fans blow

to circulate the air, yet your crunchy hair does not move.

Instead the fans force your scent towards me. My husband

wears the same scent when he wants to turn

me on not to the gym in the morning. You smell

like my husband and I miss my husband who is deployed

for the fourth time this year and I have to get off this machine

now and move upwind before my tears join my sweat.

Vomit

Sticky blue vomit

Spewed like blood at a crime scene

Sweet candy smell still

School

My classes are done

There is much sleep to be had

And a house to clean