I. I wrote letters in high school to a kid named Eugene (Gene for short). I’d met him at a summer track camp I attended between my sophomore and junior year of high school. Ours wasn’t a romantic relationship and he wasn’t my boyfriend and I didn’t want … Continue reading Notes on Notes: Scribbling Love
The temperature here keeps fluctuating between “dead of winter” cold to a hint of warmth signalling early spring. Yesterday, I noticed the forecast calling for mixed rain and snow tonight, and possibly snow next week. I see no sign of this in the sunshine floating through my home office window at … Continue reading Different and Special and Quiet
Back when The Malarkey Bin was a privatized blog whose readership included only a few select friends, most of whom actually knew me in real life, I had a whole lexicon for my folks that began with the prefix “Mealy.” This came from my own … Continue reading Ode to the MealyDad
Well, I’m done, although I’m still finding myself needing to fall asleep on the couch to the tune of the Discovery ID channel (this, if you didn’t know, was essentially the only way I could sleep during the last four months– otherwise known as the … Continue reading Dr. Done: A Photo Essay
Other than teaching two dance classes per week + a weekly 2 hour pro troupe rehearsal, my exercise regimen is less of a regimen and more of a catch-as-catch-can grab bag of odd moments where my heart rate manages to crawl above the 100 mark. This … Continue reading Dissertations Should Come with Warning Labels
Today, the students in one of my composition classes asked me “if I wrote.” I told them I was currently writing a dissertation. They asked what a dissertation was. I told them it was kind of like a book, but one that typically sucks because … Continue reading What a Dissertation Feels Like
Inspiration is a tricky subject. It’s one I’ve been thinking about quite a bit here at the beginning of a new semester and prepping syllabi and teaching materials, a time when I’m also prepping for six or so weeks of solid diss writing to get … Continue reading On Inspiration. Or Not. Maybe. Kind of. Not Really. Perhaps.
Looking at the back marsh with Dad… Hanging out with Ladybug, Dad’s pup… Eating boiled crabs with Mom… Buying princess crowns for the nieces… Watching my year-old nephew idolize his dad, my brother… Getting to know the little fella, and using one of my nieces … Continue reading What It Means to Say Home
“I hold it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.”– Tennyson, In Memoriam My alma mater back home lost two faculty members this fall– two professors that … Continue reading In Memoriam
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