Tuesday, February 07, 2006
More Doodling by Mr. Trillwing
In homage to his original intention for this piece, Mr. Trillwing titled it "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Mother Teresa":
Midnight Poetry Blogging
In a former life, I was a poet. Someday I hope to be one again, but the dissertation has sucked all poetry out of me.
I thought I'd share a few of my old poems here, since it doesn't appear they're going to be published anywhere else. :)
This one is circa 1998. I was missing Iowa and my college friends. A lot. (I still do.)
Caution: Nostalgia
for Jeff and Lisa Mather
We were both from the coast,
so Jeff, who had always lived in the middle,
took us to the combine dealers’ lots
and climbed over the machines,
pointing out his favorite hazard stickers.
At every mechanized joint,
a yellow and black rectangle showed
silhouetted figures losing their heads
or mangling their arms.
You’d think the fields would be littered
with dismembered Iowans. But no:
nothing but order to the horizon.
Still, we walked carefully at the town’s edge,
aware of the machinery that could come
roaring suddenly from the corn
like memory, as it does now,
cutting me in places no one warned me I’d bleed.
I thought I'd share a few of my old poems here, since it doesn't appear they're going to be published anywhere else. :)
This one is circa 1998. I was missing Iowa and my college friends. A lot. (I still do.)
Caution: Nostalgia
for Jeff and Lisa Mather
We were both from the coast,
so Jeff, who had always lived in the middle,
took us to the combine dealers’ lots
and climbed over the machines,
pointing out his favorite hazard stickers.
At every mechanized joint,
a yellow and black rectangle showed
silhouetted figures losing their heads
or mangling their arms.
You’d think the fields would be littered
with dismembered Iowans. But no:
nothing but order to the horizon.
Still, we walked carefully at the town’s edge,
aware of the machinery that could come
roaring suddenly from the corn
like memory, as it does now,
cutting me in places no one warned me I’d bleed.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Afire (translation: AAAACCCCKKKK!)
So. . . I looked it up online tonight. "It" being the deadline for turning in my dissertation. Ends up it's my 31st birthday.
Which is less than four months away.
Oh. My. God.
So that's lit a real fire under me. I cleared off my desk, located folders that have been AWOL since the move, and I'm ready to write. (So of course here I am, blogging away.) Truth is, I've been dawdling a bit of late and blaming it on family responsibilities or the mountains of papers we all grade. And blogging (by which I mean both reading and writing) has been a terrific way to procrastinate, although a relatively productive one, emotionally and psychologically speaking.
I've been photo blogging quite a bit this past week because I've been working instead on my posts for BlogHer. In case you haven't checked out "my" section, Research & Academia, please do stop by. Also let me know if you'd like to be added to the blogroll. I'm a bit behind on it, so you may already be on my list, but a nudge won't hurt a bit. :)
Which is less than four months away.
Oh. My. God.
So that's lit a real fire under me. I cleared off my desk, located folders that have been AWOL since the move, and I'm ready to write. (So of course here I am, blogging away.) Truth is, I've been dawdling a bit of late and blaming it on family responsibilities or the mountains of papers we all grade. And blogging (by which I mean both reading and writing) has been a terrific way to procrastinate, although a relatively productive one, emotionally and psychologically speaking.
I've been photo blogging quite a bit this past week because I've been working instead on my posts for BlogHer. In case you haven't checked out "my" section, Research & Academia, please do stop by. Also let me know if you'd like to be added to the blogroll. I'm a bit behind on it, so you may already be on my list, but a nudge won't hurt a bit. :)
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Cupcakey Goodness
At my favorite grocery store, one of the Nugget Markets, I found these:
Cupcakes > the Superbowl
Note to self: Stop eating like you're nine months pregnant.
Cupcakes > the Superbowl
Note to self: Stop eating like you're nine months pregnant.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Car seat angst
I'm having car seat angst. Seriously, this is occupying a major portion of my brain, so I thought I'd dump it here so that I can move on to the dissertation that refuses to write itself.
Lucas is now, at just under five months old, too big for his infant car seat. The infant/toddler car seat we bought before he was born (before we realized we wanted a car seat that we could carry him in) is too big to face backward in our generous sedan and still recline at the correct angle. But state law requires him to ride facing backward until he's at least one year old.
Here's the offending monster:
Any tips on car seat installation from those who have been there?
We'll probably have the new seat installed by the same county health folks who installed the first one. Hopefully they'll have more luck than we've had. But my god is this frustrating. . .
Lucas is now, at just under five months old, too big for his infant car seat. The infant/toddler car seat we bought before he was born (before we realized we wanted a car seat that we could carry him in) is too big to face backward in our generous sedan and still recline at the correct angle. But state law requires him to ride facing backward until he's at least one year old.
Here's the offending monster:
Any tips on car seat installation from those who have been there?
We'll probably have the new seat installed by the same county health folks who installed the first one. Hopefully they'll have more luck than we've had. But my god is this frustrating. . .
A little bit o' photoblogging
Sometimes, Lucas is pretty damn hard to awaken:
My parents came up to visit earlier this week. About 1/4 of the photos I took involved them trying to figure out a digital camera that they've had for quite some time now but have yet to master. I call the entire set "The Befuddlement Series." Here are two samples.
Befuddlement in the restaurant:
Lucas has had enough befuddlement:
Lucas and his grandmother:
My parents came up to visit earlier this week. About 1/4 of the photos I took involved them trying to figure out a digital camera that they've had for quite some time now but have yet to master. I call the entire set "The Befuddlement Series." Here are two samples.
Befuddlement in the restaurant:
Lucas has had enough befuddlement:
Lucas and his grandmother:
More Friday Poetry Blogging
This one is from Amy Clampitt's book Westward (1990), another favorite of mine. Clampitt, who died in 1994, is an interesting poet in part because, as I recollect, she didn't start publishing until she was in her 60s. She also happens to be an alumna of my alma mater, and we're all about giving shout-outs to fellow Grinnellians.
Portola Valley
A dense ravine, no inch
of which was level until
some architect niched in this
shimmer of partition, fishpond
and flowerbed, these fording-
stones' unwalled steep staircase
down to where (speak softly) you
take off your shoes, step onto
guest-house tatami matting,
learn to be Japanese.
There will be red wine,
artichokes, and California
politics for dinner; a mocking-
bird may whisper, a frog rasp
and go kerplunk, the shifting
inlay of goldfish in the court-
yard floor add to your vertigo;
and deer look in, the velvet
thrust of pansy faces and vast
violet-petal ears, inquiring,
stun you without a blow.
Portola Valley
A dense ravine, no inch
of which was level until
some architect niched in this
shimmer of partition, fishpond
and flowerbed, these fording-
stones' unwalled steep staircase
down to where (speak softly) you
take off your shoes, step onto
guest-house tatami matting,
learn to be Japanese.
There will be red wine,
artichokes, and California
politics for dinner; a mocking-
bird may whisper, a frog rasp
and go kerplunk, the shifting
inlay of goldfish in the court-
yard floor add to your vertigo;
and deer look in, the velvet
thrust of pansy faces and vast
violet-petal ears, inquiring,
stun you without a blow.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Should I be angry?
Sometimes I wonder if I'm not a real feminist.
I hop around the feminist blogosphere all the time, and I agree with much of what people are writing, but I'm afraid I don't share their anger. Their righteous indignation, yes. Anger, no.
Yesterday I dropped the wonderful Ms. Cliz a line about this phenomenon of angry feminist bloggers. Since her profile says she's suffering from "anger fatigue," I figured she would have something to say on the topic. She does--go read it.
Her post was a major comfort to me, not only because she gives me a nice shout-out, but because it was great to get some validation that one can indeed be a real feminist without constantly ranting about injustice. Don't get me wrong--I'm glad there are women out there who are willing and able to keep up The Good Rant, but it's just not my way of doing things, either off- or online.
Surely there are those who would criticize me for my failure to attempt to use this little blog as a tiny platform for rallying for social justice. Maybe I don't do so because I've read too much feminist theory. I suspect everything that could be said on these subjects has been said far more eloquently or intelligently elsewhere.
Honestly, I prefer reading feminist blogs from people I would normally make the mistake of assuming aren't feminists, or whose views don't jibe 100%, or even 50%, with the radical (or even liberal) feminist doctrine I've heard preached in women's studies departments.
To give but one example: This evening I stumbled across the blog Bad Feminist. In "What Exactly is a Bad Feminist?," she writes,
At unexpected moments in my life I've sought out people who are unlike myself. For example, in fall 2004, when I was living in DC, I attended a weekly Bible study at a very conservative Baptist church on Capitol Hill. (To be fair, I also sought out others who are more spiritual than I am, but whose politics are more in line with my own: namely the Quakers.) I don't seek out such people because I like to argue. Rather, I want to walk a mile in their shoes, to try to understand whence they speak and act.
What's interesting to me is that many of these women with whom I disagree on many issues don't blog in a way that's overtly angry. I like these blogs a lot. Maybe it's the lack of anger, maybe it's the way they don't cite feminist theory chapter and verse, repeating the same true but tired arguments. I suspect it's both.
When I meet someone (male or female) offline who's ranting about something I've heard hashed and rehashed a zillion times--especially if I agree with them--I'm disinclined to join the conversation. I feel the same way online.
My research has turned up some self-identifying feminist bloggers who seem genuinely happy with their lives while still acknowledging that as women, they and others suffer from injustice on many levels.
And that makes me happy. I want such balance, and I think I'm coming close to it.
P.S. Just wanted to share a few women's blogs I've run across for the first time in my browsing over the past week. Instead of commenting on them, I'll let them speak for themselves:
P.P.S.: OK, so some things still do make me angry. Must. . .not. . .rant. (Must also resist attempt to parody. . .)
I hop around the feminist blogosphere all the time, and I agree with much of what people are writing, but I'm afraid I don't share their anger. Their righteous indignation, yes. Anger, no.
Yesterday I dropped the wonderful Ms. Cliz a line about this phenomenon of angry feminist bloggers. Since her profile says she's suffering from "anger fatigue," I figured she would have something to say on the topic. She does--go read it.
Her post was a major comfort to me, not only because she gives me a nice shout-out, but because it was great to get some validation that one can indeed be a real feminist without constantly ranting about injustice. Don't get me wrong--I'm glad there are women out there who are willing and able to keep up The Good Rant, but it's just not my way of doing things, either off- or online.
Surely there are those who would criticize me for my failure to attempt to use this little blog as a tiny platform for rallying for social justice. Maybe I don't do so because I've read too much feminist theory. I suspect everything that could be said on these subjects has been said far more eloquently or intelligently elsewhere.
Honestly, I prefer reading feminist blogs from people I would normally make the mistake of assuming aren't feminists, or whose views don't jibe 100%, or even 50%, with the radical (or even liberal) feminist doctrine I've heard preached in women's studies departments.
To give but one example: This evening I stumbled across the blog Bad Feminist. In "What Exactly is a Bad Feminist?," she writes,
I have unfortunately been in environments, in which so-called feminists have not been tolerant and even 10% divergence from doctrine has been viewed as a mark of "bad" feminism. I do have some beliefs-- such as my embrace of free markets, conservative judicial philosophies, and free trade-- that don't endear me to certain feminists. I myself have always identified as a feminist and am glad to be embraced by the community (or even a small corner of it).She writes about other "bad feminists" here. (Of these, as someone who studies women in science, I found especially noteworthy this post. I disagree with this blogger on some points, but it's worth reading.)
At unexpected moments in my life I've sought out people who are unlike myself. For example, in fall 2004, when I was living in DC, I attended a weekly Bible study at a very conservative Baptist church on Capitol Hill. (To be fair, I also sought out others who are more spiritual than I am, but whose politics are more in line with my own: namely the Quakers.) I don't seek out such people because I like to argue. Rather, I want to walk a mile in their shoes, to try to understand whence they speak and act.
What's interesting to me is that many of these women with whom I disagree on many issues don't blog in a way that's overtly angry. I like these blogs a lot. Maybe it's the lack of anger, maybe it's the way they don't cite feminist theory chapter and verse, repeating the same true but tired arguments. I suspect it's both.
When I meet someone (male or female) offline who's ranting about something I've heard hashed and rehashed a zillion times--especially if I agree with them--I'm disinclined to join the conversation. I feel the same way online.
My research has turned up some self-identifying feminist bloggers who seem genuinely happy with their lives while still acknowledging that as women, they and others suffer from injustice on many levels.
And that makes me happy. I want such balance, and I think I'm coming close to it.
P.S. Just wanted to share a few women's blogs I've run across for the first time in my browsing over the past week. Instead of commenting on them, I'll let them speak for themselves:
P.P.S.: OK, so some things still do make me angry. Must. . .not. . .rant. (Must also resist attempt to parody. . .)
Cloudy with a chance of clutter
A word cloud generated for this blog:
As seen at Bright Star Reignited and pretty much everywhere else in the academic blogosphere. Make your own here. And yes, you can order them on t-shirts. . .
As seen at Bright Star Reignited and pretty much everywhere else in the academic blogosphere. Make your own here. And yes, you can order them on t-shirts. . .
Grade distribution
. . .for the latest paper assignment in our material culture course:
A: 15
B: 28
C: 26
D: 20
F: 2
Our students think we're hard-asses. I think I gave out too many As, as 11 of those puppies were awarded to my students. Still, 9 of the Ds were mine, too.
This is the third time I've TA'd for this course under this professor, so we pretty much have an understanding about grades, and the TA who has joined us this quarter is happy to join the Fair Grading Club.
The professor pointed out that no one blinks an eye if 40% of students just plain don't understand an assignment in physics or math, but everyone gets up in arms if just as many students fail to comprehend a humanities concept. I think she has a point.
Thoughts?
A: 15
B: 28
C: 26
D: 20
F: 2
Our students think we're hard-asses. I think I gave out too many As, as 11 of those puppies were awarded to my students. Still, 9 of the Ds were mine, too.
This is the third time I've TA'd for this course under this professor, so we pretty much have an understanding about grades, and the TA who has joined us this quarter is happy to join the Fair Grading Club.
The professor pointed out that no one blinks an eye if 40% of students just plain don't understand an assignment in physics or math, but everyone gets up in arms if just as many students fail to comprehend a humanities concept. I think she has a point.
Thoughts?
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