In The Scarlet Letter, despite being shamed for adultery and being forced to wear a crimson A, Hester Prynne carries herself with strength and dignity. She manages to become a pillar of the community, quietly appreciated by many. Hester Prynne’s story is one of resilience, and it is truly inspiring.

I received my first C, and now I’m so fucked up about it I’m acting like I suffered as much indignity as an adulteress in Puritan New England.

I had a 3.9, all A’s and an occasional B, and next year is my last, so you would think by now my head is out of my ass, but not so fast! I had a course that had very few assignments, and each was weighted heavily. I had missed ½ of a message board, and I was doinked 12 points for it. I usually don’t miss shit, so I was pretty pissed at myself.

Then, I managed to half-ass the final for the same course. It was my final assignment after a week of work, and I just mailed it in. Now, I have my first C ever, and my grade was one of the lowest in the course. I want to throw up.

The thing is, I’m no smarter than anybody else; my hard work is what has brought me to the dance.

My whole life, everybody, with the exception of my immediate family, thought I was stupid. This continued into my 20s with my cousin and my few best friends all talking down to me. Shit, my brother’s wife still talks to me like I’m a toddler, and she smokes meth.

So, am I stupid? I don’t know, but my grades were the crutch that my fragile psyche was being held up by, and that illusion is gone. I get pretty depressed sometimes, and unfortunately, laziness comes along with it. I get my feathers ruffled when my mental health gets in the way of my schoolwork; however, I can usually avoid the two crossing paths these days.

I’m a fuck up.

Anyway, as previously mentioned, my immediate family thought I was bright. Today is Mother’s Day, so I’ll talk about my mom for a minute and how supportive she always was.

My mom was obsessed with me knowing how to read early, and I had tons of books for as long as I can remember. She got me a typewriter once for my birthday when I told her I wanted to be a writer. I was probably only 13 or 14, but I loved it. Being a writer worked out about as well as one would expect, and now I write a stream-of-consciousness blog for therapeutic reasons.

When my mom worked at the local package store, there was a bookstore two doors over, called “A Novel Idea.” I loved that place, and I and the old dude with the ponytail became well acquainted. The first time I went to this bookstore, I was really young. Even so, I vividly remember picking out a book, The Death Cycle Volume 3: Fire Sea by Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. The cover was so wild that I just gravitated toward it.

My mom happily grabbed the book and brought it to the counter, where the owner of the store looked down at me, up at her, and muttered, “he’s a little young to read at this level.” She bought the book, and I was able to read it, although I had to look up a couple of words.

That was my mom, flawed like all of us, but always in my corner. My mom allowed me to walk my own path with confidence, knowing she was there.

Now, my mom isn’t here, and obviously I can’t be left to my own devices. The scarlet C also cost me a seat in a very difficult-to-get-into get into class next year that I desperately wanted to take. I’m a disaster.

One more thing to touch upon, today is 11 May 2025. A Professional Wrestling legend passed away today at the age of 60. I’m not going to get too deep into this, but I just want to say, he was the most captivating wrestler I have ever seen.

Covered in scars, Sabu often threw his own body at others as a weapon, and he frequently crashed and burned. That violence and unpredictability was too genuine to be duplicated, although some have tried. So, yeah, I’m pointing to the sky tonight.

That’s it,

Jared