Is good Writing Becoming a Crime?

Most people don't know this, but I went back to school about a year ago to pursue a degree in medical lab sciences. I kept it to myself until now, mainly because I had no idea how it would go or how I would adapt to the study, paper, and exam routine. It turns out, I have adapted surprisingly well. After a year, my GPA is at 3.9. It would be 4.0, but I only got an 89% in precalculus. So far, the classes I've enjoyed the most are statistics, chemistry, and political science. I even enjoyed precalculus a lot more than I imagined. It was the class I was dreading, and while I had my moments of wanting to throw in the towel, I stuck with it and ended with a grade I am more than happy with. I got 107% in phlebotomy and aced my clinical rotation at the Comprehensive Cancer Center. I am only half-joking when I say I panic at any grade below 98%. A few of my professors have told me to relax and reminded me that I only need to pass. That's great for some, but I need to pass with an A. I was not a good student when I was younger, and the revelation that I can be "that" student has been beyond incredible.

While I prefer in-person classes, I am taking two online ones at the moment. I had clinical rotations and needed the flexibility because I didn't know what my clinical schedule would be. I'm in my last few weeks of statistics and English 102. I was dreading statistics since it is quite mathy, but I have a very open schedule, which gives me tons of time to read, review, and practice. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to write. It's something I do to relax. So I was looking forward to a class that is all about one of my favorite hobbies. For the class, I have to write three papers, between three and five pages in length. One is an evaluation essay—I chose a website design product I have worked with since 2018. The second is a problem-solving essay, in which we had to choose a specific, narrow real-world issue and propose a couple of solutions. The paper's audience would be the person or persons who could implement the solution. I chose the multi-use trail in my neighborhood and the danger of e-bikes on the winding path. The last paper is one with a bit of research. We have to choose a topic that is commonly misunderstood, state the misconceptions, find sources that challenge those misconceptions, and weave in a personal example. All easy-peasy papers. Or so I thought.

My English professor requires that all papers be submitted using Turnitin, the software schools have been using for ages to detect plagiarism. Now, Turnitin has added AI detection, and this is where things get dicey. Turnitin AI will analyze a paper and decide if it is "likely" to have been written, in whole or in part, by AI. Keep that word "likely" in mind. Anything under 20% gets an asterisk, and most teachers leave it at that. In my class, anything above 20% is ineligible for grading. The options? Take a failing grade or redo the assignment on a different topic. What gets flagged as 80% in one detector gets flagged as 0% AI in another. Which one is correct? Who decides? Who decides who gets to decide?

My writing has ranged from an asterisk to 85%, and I seem to be clocking in closer to 30% as I do more papers. When I received the first email saying my paper came back flagged as 85% AI, I was stunned. And angry. And confused. Even writing about it now, those feelings rush right back in. I emailed my teacher to dispute the accusation of cheating, and he told me he wasn't accusing me of cheating or wrongdoing; he said the paper was flagged and that I needed to redo the assignment. That made no sense to me. If I wasn't cheating, and if I hadn't done anything wrong, then why was I being punished with another assignment?

I rewrote it anyway. I whipped out a new paper on a new topic, EMS Fitness, in about an hour. That one got a 95% grade. The original paper clocked in at 41%, and after reworking and resubmitting, it came in between the high 20s and the low 40s. That's likelihood, not fact. And that likelihood takes none of my previous writing into account. I've written professionally since my early 20s. This blog started after years of writing funny stories to friends who begged me to blog. I was the person my friends came to when they needed their papers proofread and edited.

The problem with AI detection is that there is no proof. I can't prove I wrote it, and Turnitin can't prove I didn't. It becomes a he-said / it-said situation. With plagiarism, at least there's something concrete to point to. I spent the night looking up information and statistics on Turnitin AI. Turnitin has been trained on over a billion student papers—papers they scanned to identify potential cheaters, but then kept forever so they could evaluate new submissions. It looks for patterns, vocabulary, polished grammar, all the things that were drilled into me when I was younger, and many things I have refined over the years. Oh, and that long dash "—" is called an em dash. It's been around since the 17^th century, and used to set off an explanatory remark, not unlike a parenthesis. Shakespeare was a big fan. So is ChatGPT, but it is not proof of AI writing.

They claim a false positive rate of around 1%. I have several issues with that number. Independent testing, including from outlets like the Washington Post, has shown a false-positive rate closer to 50%. And if no one can prove whether AI did or didn't write something, then where exactly does the "1%" come from? I could not find any feedback loop. That's disturbing, because a feedback loop tells you what's working and what isn't, like when a product stops selling, or when raising a price causes sales to fall. But when AI flags a paper as being written by AI, something neither party can prove, how does a false positive ever get reported? Turnitin is a billion-dollar company that makes money by identifying "cheats," for lack of a better word. It is in their best interest to flag as much as possible. The more "cheats" they find, the more institutions will be keen to keep paying for it.

I also discovered that universities such as Yale, UC Berkeley, UCLA, UCI, Vanderbilt, Notre Dame, Georgetown, the University of Edinburgh, and others have banned or strongly recommend against using Turnitin AI detection. That alone says a lot. Institutions like MIT have also debunked AI detectors.

So now I'm in the awkward position of having two outstanding papers being held up by AI detection. My professor and I have exchanged dozens of emails. At one point, he asked if he could run my long email—over two pages—through Turnitin. It came back at 0% AI. Now he argues that I can write without flagging. And yes, technically he's right. But what is the difference between my papers and that email? Anger? Emotion? Stress? A lack of transitional sentences? No neat structural phrases like "in conclusion"? I honestly don't know.

On Tuesday morning, I decided to start over and write a new problem-solving essay on a new topic. It took me about an hour. I submitted it, and it came back over 30% AI. I asked my instructor whether there was a difference between the first page, which did not flag, and the second page, which did. He didn't look. He only looks at the score. I asked if, after reading my emails and the first page of my paper, it seemed unreasonable that I would have written it without AI. Again, he doesn’t look at them if they don’t qualify for grading.

Here is one of the paragraphs in question. According to Turnitin, I used AI to write this:

Installing convex mirrors that provide visibility around otherwise blind curves is another practical solution. The same types of mirrors are used in residential communities, parking garages, and hospital hallways. A couple of well-placed mirrors at the S-curve and recreation center would help everyone see who is coming when navigating those areas. The visibility would give both cyclists and pedestrians an extra few seconds to react and plan. Once installed, the mirrors require minimal maintenance. They are a cost-effective way to make long-term safety improvements.

 

Is it unreasonable to believe that I wrote that paragraph without help?

And that begs the question: if a professor refuses to apply the tiniest bit of human judgment, then what is the point of having a professor? If AI can deem my paper AI-written, then let it grade the paper, stop paying the professors, and make college more affordable.

With my grade and degree hanging in the balance, I've offered to write my papers under supervision—in his office or anywhere on campus. He can choose the topic on the spot, so I have no time to prepare, lest he think I memorized something from ChatGPT. Since the paper has to be on something we are knowledgeable about, I only ask that he limit it to marketing or small business. I haven't heard back. I figure there are only two outcomes: I pass the AI detection and am eligible for grading, or I flag as AI, with incontrovertible proof of authorship, which I assume would make my paper eligible for grading.

This whole dilemma is getting in the way of my other classes. My statistics class, which I really enjoy, has an extra credit paper we can write. My current grade is in the higher 90s, and as much as I love a triple-digit grade, I'm going to sit this one out. I don't want to deal with the stress, and I can't risk my degree or everything I've worked for this past year.

It makes me angry and sad, and honestly, it makes me wonder how many other students are in the same situation. Even at a 1% error rate, that's 300 on my campus alone. If the error rate is closer to the Washington Post numbers, that jumps to 15,000. I try not to let fear hold me back. I will often do something just because it scares me. But this time, fear wins out. I can't risk it. Since when did going to college mean holding back and dumbing down? Keep in mind, we are talking likelihood, not proof.

What if you were driving down the street, and you got pulled over and fined for speeding? You weren't, but the officer thinks it's 35% likely that you were, given that you drive a sports car: no ticket, no reports to insurance, no accusation, no wrongdoing, just a fine based on likelihood. But you can't leave without paying the fine. If you don't pay, your car gets impounded. Would you quietly pay the fine? What if instead of a fine, you had to forfeit your license? Would you?

When people talk about how AI writes, they seem to think that AI has created a new way of writing. It didn't. It learned from billions of samples across centuries. AI has supposedly read every book ever published. It was taught how to write by humans. Is it really such a stretch to think that maybe some of us legitimately and without malice, write similarly? Here's a fun fact: the first time I ever used ChatGPT, a few days after it was publicly released, I did have a bit of a "That sounds like something I would say" moment. At the time, I thought it was funny. Now, not so much.

I've heard stories of students sacrificing a better grade to avoid being flagged by AI. What doesn't flag? Typos. Bad grammar. Poor structure. And what brings down a grade? Typos. Bad grammar. Poor structure. Sounds like a win-win to me! Alec, I’ll take impossible situations for 100! Turnitin doesn't read papers. I could say that I was hanging out with George Washington while he was writing Harry Potter, and that wouldn't flag as AI, even though AI is famous for hallucinating. But if my punctuation and grammar are perfect? That's another story.

When I was a teenager, we didn't have spellcheck; we had to know how to spell or look it up in a dictionary. In the library. We typed our papers on old typewriters, and for term papers, we weren't allowed to use correction tape or fluid. If we made a mistake in the last word of a footnote, we tore out the paper and started over. No copy/paste, no undo button. We were taught to be on our game when it came to writing.

And now, apparently, that's suspicious, at least to an algorithm.

The 2024 election and me

 The election was a week ago today. And since then, I have been feeling depressed, scared, sad, and so many other emotions. I have spent the past few days checking in on some friends while avoiding others. I have also seen posts on social media from people who don’t understand our emotions. Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can tell you my story and how this impacts me.

When I was young, I knew I was different. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t have a word for it or even any context. But I knew. I also knew that I had to keep it a secret. Not like I knew something I wasn’t supposed to talk about. It was instinctual, like I had to keep it a secret to survive.

I didn’t hear the word gay or faggot until I hit middle school and then they seemed to be the only thing anyone called me. I didn’t even know what the words meant, but the tone of voice told me it wasn’t good. There was also nobody to ask. Again, instinctually, I knew I had to keep it to myself. I was teased, bullied, beat up, all for something I wasn’t fully aware of and didn’t understand. Everyone else seemed to live in a world I didn’t. I was different. I hadn’t done anything. I wouldn’t have known what to do if the opportunity presented itself. I had no self-esteem. I just wanted to be invisible and left alone.

Just about the time I started to realize that maybe I was gay, people started dying of AIDS. And before I had even my first real kiss, sex with another man meant death. At church and home, I heard over and over that I was an abomination, destined for hell. They didn’t say it to me directly, but that is what they said about gay people and well, I was becoming more and more aware that I was gay.

My sister outed me to my mom, and the next time I spoke to my mom, she said “I hope you get AIDS and die and go to hell because that is what you deserve.” I argued that I wasn’t a pedophile, rapist, or serial killer. She told me that if I was, at least I would be normal. That’s when I learned that being gay was worse than being those other things. In fact, it seemed there was nothing worse.

The rest of the world seemed to agree, as nothing at all was done while 60,000 or so people died of AIDS in the US. I remember hearing people say that all gay people would be shipped off to an island where we could give each other AIDS and die. That would take care of the problem. It was a “gay cancer,” and God’s will. There was no way around it, I was not welcome or wanted. It made no difference what kind of person I was. I was hated because of what I did in the privacy of my bedroom. “Silence = Death” seemed to be everywhere as we struggled just to get someone, anyone, to care that people were dying. And many of them, dying alone, kicked out of their families, and deserted by “friends.”

As a result of all of this, I had a ton of internalized homophobia. I was gay, and I hated being gay. I spent my life living in fear. Was I saying the wrong thing? Standing the wrong way? Scared I would react if someone mentioned the name of the boy I had a crush on. As an adult, I always had to have stories ready – What did I do over the weekend? Who was I with? Who did I like? I had to be careful not to let an “I love you” slip out when talking on the phone to my partner in case someone heard. I lived two completely different lives. Each of them kind of me, but neither of them really me.

All I wanted was to be “normal” and be able to walk down the street holding someone’s hand and not be in danger. I wanted the freedom to talk about my life at work the way everyone else did and not worry about being alienated or fired. I wanted the life my straight friends and family had, but that I would never be allowed to have. I wanted the government and media to stop talking about my sex life, who I should be able to love or marry, and whether I should even be legal.

By 21, I knew that I would not live to be 30. The odds were against me, as it seemed, the rest of the world was too. From where I stood, to be gay meant to die, because that was what I deserved. It was God’s punishment for me being gay. And the well-meaning friends and family who told me they loved me, they just didn’t approve of my lifestyle, didn’t help.

I was in my 20s when I first became aware of gay pride. I didn’t like it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t understand why gay people needed to go out and have a parade because they were gay. I wanted to be invisible and just exist, and the people in gay pride parades wanted everyone to see them. It made me uncomfortable. I was both jealous and terrified.

Why gay pride? Because in so many places in the US, gay people are discriminated against, threatened with violence, and killed. It’s because there are politicians who want to remove our right to be married, our access to healthcare, and in some cases, even make it illegal to be gay. Books with gay characters get banned. Movies about gay people get boycotted. Children are kicked out of their homes and shunned by friends. They are abandoned and shamed by the very people shouting about family values and Christian love. If we hold hands in public, we are shoving our lives down people’s throats, and our marriages to decades-long partners are seen as harming the sanctity of marriage, while straight people can marry and divorce as they want, and nobody says anything. Just a few examples that I have personally faced. And those types of actions lead many teens and even older gay people to dangerous behaviors, depression, and suicide. I went through a phase of wanting to die instead of being gay. And I’m sure there are people in the world who would have preferred that.

Throughout my adult life, I could always look back and see that progress was being made. There was always movement forward. Maybe the tiniest bit, maybe quite a lot, but it was always forward. We were able to have benefits for partners, adopt children, and get married. It was like we were real people after all. Sure, some people thought I shouldn’t have those things, but they seemed to be in the minority. I was certain I had the support of my friends and family.

But that doesn’t seem to be the case. I understand that we live in a democracy where we all have the right to vote for who we want. I am all for that. For years, we have been hearing about rights being taken away. I would bring this up to friends and family who didn’t want to talk “politics.” Well, it’s not politics, it’s my life. It’s my marriage, my family, my son, my healthcare, my rights. And the fact that people who say they love me vote for people who have been outspoken about their willingness and mission to take away my rights, to make me less of a person, less of a citizen, and treat me as though I do not matter, makes me feel so sad and alone. It makes me feel hated.

For the first time, I can see us moving backward. I don’t know what’s going to happen in January. But if even only a fraction of the GOP’s promises and goals get implemented, it is going to be catastrophic for so many people. They have never hidden their intentions, and yet, so many voted for them and intentionally voted against me and my family. Have they even thought about where this all goes? Let’s say LGBTQ rights are completely wiped out. Who is next? People of color? Women? Non-Christians? And have no doubt, someone will be next.

There is a vindictive part of me that wants to tell everyone who voted against me and my rights that I hope I can return the favor someday, but the truth is, I would never vote against anyone’s rights. And this is not about gay or trans rights, it is about basic human rights. Once they get taken away for one group, they can get taken away for anyone.

Dizzy Blonde

A few weeks ago, the hearing in my left ear went down by 40 decibels. Adjusting to that has been challenging, especially as life starts moving from staying at home to venturing out into public spaces. At home, I have some control over the sounds in the house. If the washer is too loud for me, I can go to my room for some quiet. This past Monday, we went out to dinner for the first time since we started sheltering in place, and it was a glimpse of my new normal. Between the music and the ambient noise, I could not hear anything people said without a lot of concentration. Even then, it only went well about 30% of the time. People wearing masks makes it even harder to hear. I am already tired of asking people to repeat themselves, and for now, I am much more comfortable being at home.

 

About a week or so after the hearing loss, I started to have moments of dizziness. They would last anywhere from one to ten minutes at a time. Now, it is almost the reverse. This is now day three, with mostly non-stop dizziness. Vertigo often comes with hearing loss and tinnitus like mine. The hearing loss seems pretty minor now in comparison. While the hearing loss presented some challenges, I found myself starting to adapt. I know to pause the TV or music if someone is talking to me. People closest to me know, so they are patient when I tell them I didn’t hear them for the third or fifth time. But the dizziness, that is something else entirely.

I call it dizziness for lack of a better word. I am not yet sure what to call it, but dizziness doesn’t quite explain it. It also comes in various forms. When it started, I would suddenly get the spins. The whole room would just spin as though I had way too much to drink. I would usually happen when I was lying down, if I moved my head too fast or if sounds were overwhelming. Since Tuesday, things have been different. Sometimes the room still spins. Most of the time, I feel like I am spinning or moving, and everything else has stopped. I can feel it in my whole body, and I constantly feel like I am going to lose my balance and fall. It has happened, but only a little bit here and there.

Walking down the stairs is scary. I cling to the rail and lean toward on wall, taking it one step at a time. If I forgot something and need to go back upstairs, I put it off until I absolutely have to. Carrying things in my hands while walking downstairs is the worst, and I can’t imagine trying to navigate it in the dark. Something that just a week ago, I did automatically. Looking up while standing is like having the floor open up below me, and I am filled with the sensation of free-falling. Paying attention, holding a conversation, and even writing requires an exhausting level of concentration, and I struggle with all of it. I feel like I am letting everyone down. My son has commented that I seem to have something new wrong with me every week. It’s hard to do the things I usually do with him because of the sounds and movement. It’s difficult doing the things I need to do in business, and that is letting my business partner down. I am cranky, and that is having impacts at home. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do.

I called my ENT, who has prescribed some dizziness and nausea medication. Nausea hasn’t started yet, but it feels like it might. I am not one to feel queasy after a spinning ride or anything like that, but now I am on my fourth day of it being non-stop, and it is wearing me down. In fact, this whole thing is wearing me down. I’m actively trying to fight off depression and not doing such a great job at it. Part of the problem is that there is no forgetting about it, not even for a minute or two. When I had the stroke, there would be moments when I would forget, and those moments were incredible. Yes, there was the harsh moment of reality at some point, but to forget for just a few minutes was a gift. So far, I haven’t been able to forget. Maybe its too new, perhaps that’s how it’s going to be.

I start my dizziness medication today, and the doctor wants an MRI as soon as possible. Maybe it will show something. For now, I am just hoping the medicine works. I'm tired of being a dizzy blonde.

My Newest Adventure

I had always thought hearing loss would be a slow, gradual dialing down of the volume to an ever-increasing silence. That’s why, when I woke up last Saturday with loud ringing and pressure in my left ear, hearing loss was not even on my radar. I assumed it was sinus related. I’ve had horrific sinus issues for years, and six weeks ago, I had surgery to reconstruct my shattered septum, which turned out to be the cause of all the sinus misery. Plugged ears and ringing were nothing new, but as the day went on, things intensified.

I first noticed that I was more sensitive to the sounds in the house. The coffee cup set down on the table. Water running in the sink. The sound of my spoon against the side of the jar as I ate my overnight oats. It was like they were not sounds I was hearing, but explosions that reverberated in my head.

We decided to go out for a walk, to get away from the sound and get some fresh air. The pressure in my ear would change in intensity. The ringing sounded like I was sitting in an airplane right next to the engine. It wasn’t painful, just increasingly annoying. It was when our path took us under a freeway bridge that I realized there was something more going on. The sounds from the cars overhead were intense, as though I were standing in a long echoing tunnel. Once again, I sounded like I was coming from my head. I had to strain to hear the person next to me speaking, and it wasn’t until we were a few hundred feet away that the noise levels started to diminish.

We got home and had a video call with my doctor. He asked if I had lost any hearing, and I said no. It hadn’t occurred to me that I had. I was hearing things- and loudly.  He referred me to the urgent care to make sure there was nothing obviously wrong. I got the all-clear from that doctor, who then referred me to my Ear Nose and Throat (ENT) doctor. I got home and put on some headphones to play a video game. That’s when I noticed it. I was ‘hearing’ a lot of ringing, but there was no actual hearing going on in that ear. That’s when the panic started. I called my ENT, got the on-call doctor who got everything rolling for an appointment for a hearing test that Monday.

The rest of the weekend was full of surprises. As I can only hear in one ear, I can’t follow two streams of sound. If I am watching TV and someone talks to me, it all jumbles up. I have to pause the TV and then listen only to what the person is saying. Eating potato chips or anything crunchy is majorly uncomfortable, and I can’t hear anything at all. Listening to music is not a fun experience with now, as it has a weird effect on the pressure in my ear. And I love music. I always have it on all the time. And I always write with music. Not anymore, at least not at this time.

Grocery stores are the worst. They are a never-ending source of sound torture. It is almost impossible to have a conversation if I am at the sink with running water, and general conversation is just not as much fun as it used to be. You know when you try to sleep, and someone’s car alarm keeps going off all night? That’s what it’s like. It just never takes a break, and nobody is coming to turn it off. Conversations take concentration. I often have to strain to listen, and I have to continually ask what somebody said or let them know I didn’t hear them. Sometimes, like at a grocery store, I just smile and nod and hope it was the right thing to do. Work conversations are even more difficult. I often need to brainstorm and think strategically and creatively in the moment. It’s hard to do while trying to ignore the onslaught of sounds around me. I can sometimes hear the aggravation in Keith’s voice after he asked me to help him in the kitchen or something, and I just didn’t hear him.

Monday, I had the hearing test, and the results confirmed a 40-decibel hearing loss in my left year. The doctor told me I have Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss. While there is a laundry list of what may cause it, from viruses to tumors, there is not much knowledge about it. There are also not many options for treatment. I started a round of high-dose steroids, which I am now about half-way through. If those don’t work, then the next step is an MRI. So far, there has been no change.

I am trying to stay positive, doing the treatments that might, but probably will not bring my hearing back, and at the same time, be realistic about the possibility of this being something that is here to stay. I don’t know how that will work. I have found a couple of great resources that are helping me understand what is going on and also figuring out what comes next.