27 April 2018: This might be a new record for me--done before noon on the Friday of exam week. I have no idea how it happened, but I sure ain't complaining. Here's to Summer 2018, which I have resolved to make fun, silly, and relaxing!
Chair-dancing time...
Friday, April 27, 2018
Thursday, April 26, 2018
Flowers...
26 April 2018: My family and friends have been so kind to me since the news about my promotion. My house is currently full of flowers, which makes me very happy.
From Chris, Jen, Kelsie, and Aidan.
From Tara, Jeff, Olivia, and Colin.
From Hannah.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
20 years ago?
25 April 2018:
"So today I finally find the courage deep inside
Just to walk right up to your door
But my body can't move when I finally get to it
Like a thousand times before
Then without a word you handed me this letter
Read I hope this finds the way into your heart, it said
I love you
Please say you love me too
'Til the end of time" --Faith Hill, "I Love You"
I have always really liked this song--its retro-sound, its big old vocal delivered by Faith, and most of all, the very sweet story it tells. It's been in my head today.
Just now, I realized I first heard it in the spring of 1998. (In fact, Wikipedia tells me the album--entitled Faith--was released on April 21, 1998.) That's twenty years ago. Wow. I remember so much of that spring and summer and so many of those memories are set to that album. It was, among other things, the summer before my senior year of college (terrifying and thrilling), when I did independent "grad-school level" research for the first time as a "Summer Scholar," when I lived on the Elizabeth Campus with my best friends and we felt like we had the whole campus to ourselves and kind of practiced for our first apartments, when I turned 21, when my sister got married... Lots of change and big thinking and the feeling of being on the cusp of new things. Again: scary and exciting.
Twenty years later. How much has changed? What remains the same? Hmmm...
"So today I finally find the courage deep inside
Just to walk right up to your door
But my body can't move when I finally get to it
Like a thousand times before
Then without a word you handed me this letter
Read I hope this finds the way into your heart, it said
I love you
Please say you love me too
'Til the end of time" --Faith Hill, "I Love You"
I have always really liked this song--its retro-sound, its big old vocal delivered by Faith, and most of all, the very sweet story it tells. It's been in my head today.
Just now, I realized I first heard it in the spring of 1998. (In fact, Wikipedia tells me the album--entitled Faith--was released on April 21, 1998.) That's twenty years ago. Wow. I remember so much of that spring and summer and so many of those memories are set to that album. It was, among other things, the summer before my senior year of college (terrifying and thrilling), when I did independent "grad-school level" research for the first time as a "Summer Scholar," when I lived on the Elizabeth Campus with my best friends and we felt like we had the whole campus to ourselves and kind of practiced for our first apartments, when I turned 21, when my sister got married... Lots of change and big thinking and the feeling of being on the cusp of new things. Again: scary and exciting.
Twenty years later. How much has changed? What remains the same? Hmmm...
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
One good thing from today...
24 April 2018: Just hit "submit" on an article revision. Still feels pretty darn good to do that, especially when you have a project you really like. Who knows what will happen with this article, but now that the last promotion is in the books and the stakes are in some ways much lighter, it's easier to send these things off.
Time for a bit of chair-dancing...
Time for a bit of chair-dancing...
Two good things from yesterday...
1) My favorite tree in the backyard is blooming and 2) I learned that I am being promoted to full professor.
Monday, April 23, 2018
"If All My Relationships Fail and I Have No Children Do I Even Know What Love Is"
23 April 2018: Blown away this morning by this poem from Patrick Rosal. Here's what he said about it, courtesy of the little blurb from the "Poem-a-Day" email: "I guess it is a kind of failure not to learn how to love and be loved, but I also think it’s a kind of love to bear witness to love itself: to pay attention to it, especially in unlikely places and forms, to record it, to struggle to write love down so that it changes me. In that way, I feel an incredible sense of wealth."
Sometimes I think it is easy (too easy) to get caught up in what I don't have, but poems like this remind us that witnessing love is a kind of gift and a way of loving.
Sometimes I think it is easy (too easy) to get caught up in what I don't have, but poems like this remind us that witnessing love is a kind of gift and a way of loving.
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Spring returns? I'm feeling it...
22 April 2018:
"Something happens and I'm head over heels
I never find out till I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Ah don't take my heart, don't break my heart
Don't don't don't throw it away" --Tears for Fears, "Head Over Heels"
A lovely Sunday so far; grading in the morning, mowed the lawn; took a good walk; had a birthday dinner for a good friend. And in a bit, I'll head out to Midnight Breakfast. Seems like it's a good time to be optimistic again.
"Something happens and I'm head over heels
I never find out till I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Ah don't take my heart, don't break my heart
Don't don't don't throw it away" --Tears for Fears, "Head Over Heels"
A lovely Sunday so far; grading in the morning, mowed the lawn; took a good walk; had a birthday dinner for a good friend. And in a bit, I'll head out to Midnight Breakfast. Seems like it's a good time to be optimistic again.
Saturday, April 21, 2018
"Unrest in Baton Rouge"
21 April 2018:
"Is it strange to say love is a language
Few practice, but all, or near all speak?" --Tracy K. Smith, "Unrest in Baton Rouge"
Came across this poem and the story behind it on a Studio 360 episode today. Amazing.
"Is it strange to say love is a language
Few practice, but all, or near all speak?" --Tracy K. Smith, "Unrest in Baton Rouge"
Came across this poem and the story behind it on a Studio 360 episode today. Amazing.
Friday, April 20, 2018
"But what if there are 10 babies on the floor of the Senate?"
20 April 2018: "We could only wish we had 10 babies on the floor. That would be a delight." --Amy Klobuchar, in response to Senator Hatch's hypothetical question.
Go Tammy Duckworth! More babies in the Senate! (The real kind, not adults acting like babies...)
Go Tammy Duckworth! More babies in the Senate! (The real kind, not adults acting like babies...)
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Welcome words...
19 April 2018: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." --1 Peter 5: 6-7
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
"Improvisation on Them"
18 April 2018:
I like this quite a bit:
"A beautiful loser, she takes pleasure in being incomplete.
He draws tears from grown men when he plucks his box.
She is reckless, never trained, so much a wound clock.
They move like movement in a still life picture.
She sings behind the beat and leans into the future.
Stepping out of sequence as though they’ve just begun."
Read the whole thing here.
This poem came to me from the Academy of American Poets' "Poem-a-Day" email, which also included this commentary from the poet, Linda Susan Jackson: "I was listening to Coltrane’s version of ‘My Favorite Things,’ and I began to imagine that like great musicians, we improvise—in relationships, through life, and in our writing. Time goes by, the writing goes on; we take risks, and, hopefully, we can recover from our mistakes. We start again, making it all seem effortless yet remarkable at the same time. At least, what I want this poem to suggest is that moments of improvisation can hold all the meaning, memory, and music, as well as a little magic.”
Love it.
I like this quite a bit:
"A beautiful loser, she takes pleasure in being incomplete.
He draws tears from grown men when he plucks his box.
She is reckless, never trained, so much a wound clock.
They move like movement in a still life picture.
She sings behind the beat and leans into the future.
Stepping out of sequence as though they’ve just begun."
Read the whole thing here.
This poem came to me from the Academy of American Poets' "Poem-a-Day" email, which also included this commentary from the poet, Linda Susan Jackson: "I was listening to Coltrane’s version of ‘My Favorite Things,’ and I began to imagine that like great musicians, we improvise—in relationships, through life, and in our writing. Time goes by, the writing goes on; we take risks, and, hopefully, we can recover from our mistakes. We start again, making it all seem effortless yet remarkable at the same time. At least, what I want this poem to suggest is that moments of improvisation can hold all the meaning, memory, and music, as well as a little magic.”
Love it.
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Never peaking...
17 April 2018: This thread from my imaginary best buddy Linda Holmes really speaks to me. Give it a read!
Monday, April 16, 2018
April is the cruelest month...we know, we know...
16 April 2018: You know, even as I was typing my “What a great day this has been!” post the other day, I worried if I was jinxing myself. And while the two days since then haven’t been awful, they haven’t been all that great, either. Nothing too bad, really—just kind of frustrating and disappointing. The fact that it’s about 40 degrees colder and rainy hasn’t helped either.
But something that helped? An evening walk around campus with Amy and Vosco. He goes to his next stop in the training process soon (the end of the month), so even that has a touch of bittersweet to it. Still it helped me get into a slightly better mood and I am grateful for that.
But something that helped? An evening walk around campus with Amy and Vosco. He goes to his next stop in the training process soon (the end of the month), so even that has a touch of bittersweet to it. Still it helped me get into a slightly better mood and I am grateful for that.
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Not so fast...
15 April 2018: That taste of spring didn't last too long as the temperature dropped quickly today and clouds dominated. Sigh. But there were some symbolic bright spots, as I got some work done on an article, we initiated new members into Sigma Tau Delta, and our seniors gave their capstone presentations.
Saturday, April 14, 2018
Finally...a taste of spring...
14 April 2018: After a restful sleep, woke up this morning to birds singing, breezes coming through the open window, and two snuggle-y cats. (BabyCat on the floor outside in the doorway, as usual.) What a way to open an all-around lovely day. Mowed the lawn (for the first time this season), saw a movie, got some grading done, did some chores, went to a poetry reading, had a good dinner out, talked about plans for the summer... Days like this--quiet, lovely, spent with people I love--I just savor them...
"And we said these songs are true
These days are ours
These tears are free
And hey
The cross is in the ballpark..."
"And we said these songs are true
These days are ours
These tears are free
And hey
The cross is in the ballpark..."
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