"We used to think...when I was an unsifted girl...that words were weak and cheap. Now I don't know of anything so mighty." -Emily Dickinson
Tuesday, February 28, 2023
Submitted, almost submitted, almost done...
Monday, February 27, 2023
Sunday, February 26, 2023
"full of boredom..."
Saturday, February 25, 2023
Midterm grades: DONE!
25 February 2023: Weird day here. Jo also seems to be a bit sick (and has worms--for which the vet can't see her until late March), so I am worried about her. But! I just clicked "submit" on my last midterm grades and "weird day/anxiety about the kitten" be damned. We need a bit of chair-dancing, even if just for a moment.
Friday, February 24, 2023
Saying goodbye...
Thursday, February 23, 2023
Home early on a 70 degree day...
Wednesday, February 22, 2023
Last home game...
22 February 2023: Last home game of the women's basketball season today. They didn't win, but it is very clear how much they have grown this season. They will all be back next year, so I am already excited about that.
Tuesday, February 21, 2023
Cooking time...
Monday, February 20, 2023
Nobel Prizes
Sunday, February 19, 2023
"Little Rock"
19 Feburary 2023: Hoping to call up some grad-school-intense-writing-session vibes, I am listening to my Collin Raye albums on shuffle. In the old days, I'd put six of his CDs in the changer and dive into hours and hours of writing. But it's been years (I think?) since I've done this, so I decided to attempt a digital version.
Anyway, just found myself tearing up at "Little Rock," a song that has always gotten to me but hits differently ever since I lost my brother to addiction.
The line that gets me every time? "Sorry that I cried when I talked to you last night...," which just quietly crashes into what has come before and then leads to the first chorus.
But every line of it works so well. The specificity of the references ("selling VCRs in Arkansas at a Walmart"), and devastating other stories lurking in the lyrics ("Jesus would forgive, but a daddy don't forget") hint at the whole world of pain before the song's opening. The song's build--classic country ballad stuff--feels so earned. So, too, does the muted shakey determination of its ending. How will things turn out for this speaker? Who knows? He thinks he's on a roll "here in Little Rock" and that he's "solid as a stone," but is he? It hangs there.
"Sorry that I cried when I talked to you last night." It's just so much; an apology, a plea, a hand reaching out. Shew.
And there goes 15 minutes of writing, but not on my book. Oh well. Back to work I go. The mix has shuffled on to another song. Sorry that I cried when I was supposed to be writing.
Saturday, February 18, 2023
Kinky Boots
Friday, February 17, 2023
Inspired...and worried...
Thursday, February 16, 2023
"If I Can't Have You"
16 February 2023: On another busy, meeting-filled, "big to-do list," day, this song had me doing some chair-dancing. Always grateful for that.
Wednesday, February 15, 2023
Decompression time...
Tuesday, February 14, 2023
Writing partner...
Monday, February 13, 2023
If you gotta do a Monday...
Sunday, February 12, 2023
I Capture the Castle
Saturday, February 11, 2023
Counter offender...
Friday, February 10, 2023
Big sister's day...
Thursday, February 9, 2023
A keg of what?
9 February 2023:
Weddings sure have changed since 1828. (From Lydia Moland's new book, Lydia Maria Child: A Radical American Life.)