Why I Don't Use AI For School Work, And I Don't Think You Should Either

12/06/25

started my new courses today, there isn't nearly enough material to keep me occupied for the rest of the summer term, but at least that'll give me more time for other stuff.

on the plus side the RMPS work is really interesting and there are at least four tutorials worth of work in those files. I'll probably finish them quickly and then go onto other projects

propaganda a lot of y’all should fall for:

whispering “thanku” to your tea or coffee before the first sip.

telling your friends you love them when they least expect it. especially then.

googling “what kind of flower blooms twice” at 3 a.m. to feel hopeful again

deleting apps every two weeks and calling it a spiritual reset.

naming your plants like they’re ur friends. apologizing when you forget to water them.

believing ur younger self would still think you’re cool. even on your worst days.

using perfume before bed. for no one. for you.

making eye contact with yourself in the mirror when you cry. giving the pain an audience.

taking selfies when you feel awful. proof you existed even when the light wasn’t flattering :-)

When Dostoevsky said, "Pain changes you, but it teaches. That is its mercy." but Kafka said, "Pain changes nothing. It just repeats itself until you forget who you were before it started."

What prompts you to write poetry?

honestly i don't really have a good answer for this. i'm not even sure what i write qualifies as poetry, it's most just my ramblings to myself. i just think of lines or concepts i want to write and then write it. poetry isn't something we get asked to write in our english classes, so i don't write very much. but every now and again i think of a line and then the rest of the poem just kind of writes itself? in my head?

Can we talk about how the idea that STEM and the humanities are mortal enemies with no overlap is actually incredibly harmful and is not only preventing people from pursuing their passions but also part of the reason why the humanities aren’t given their proper respect? No, artists are not all snobby pretentious assholes who think they’re more cultured than everyone else and no scientists are not all emotionless robots who think they’re smarter than everyone else and it’s possible to be an artist and a scientist at the same time. By acting like you have to choose between STEM and humanities we are eliminating thousands of potential careers and causing unnecessary divisions in a time where nothing is more crucial than unity. I’m so tired of people acting like STEM majors are incapable of understanding art and humanities majors are incapable of understanding math when the two fields are crucial to one another. Who would design our architecture if it weren’t for artful engineers? Who would discover the rules of composition? At the end of the day we are all just people trying to learn and make a living, and all of these careers are important to humanity. People can’t say that STEM is more important than humanities if there’s no such thing as STEM vs humanities.

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.

the killing of the weeds

we've all been told that they pick the flowers they think are the prettiest

and they do, they pluck the beautiful ones when they are young and they display them for all to see

but hidden away behind this is their treatment of the less beautiful ones

the ivy and and the dandelions - the 'weeds'

a weed is not a specific breed or family of plant, a weed is defined as 'a wild plant growing where it is not wanted and in competition with cultivated plants'

a weed is any plant that does not conform

a plant that is wild and unruly and a law unto itself

a plant that challenges the status quo, the norm

a plant that grows in competition, a plant thats non-conformance makes it brighter and bolder and braver

i can tell you what they do with those plants

they rip them out

they try and remove the roots as best as they can, to try and remove any chance of the resilient weed bouncing back up

they pour weed-killers, harsh chemicals designed to destruct

and they do so repeatedly

the forceful and ferocious beating down of those that dare to be different

the killing of the weeds

no one cares about that

they kill the weeds

also a poem from the new, unreleased collection. very possibly my own all-time favourite.

sometimes when you look at someone and think “ughhh i wish that was me” what you’re really feeling isn't jealousy. you don’t want to be them. you want to feel like you but braver, freer, softer, louder, whatever they’re reminding you of

we grow up being told to compete but healing girlhood teaches that you can feel inspired without feeling small. you can let someone’s light show you where yours is dim. you can see beauty in someone else and use it as a mirror, not a measuring stick

so next time you feel that burn in your chest, pause and ask yourself: what part of me is waking up when i look at them? what dream of mine are they unknowingly touching? because that’s not jealousy. that’s a version of you (not yet born) whispering “hey! we could do that too <3”

flowers for my lovelies