Friday (Productive) Musings

I came to school today for my last new faculty orientation meeting. It was scheduled for 9:00. At about 9:45 we all became suspicious of the fact that someone had forgotten about us. We were right. While I’m pretty good natured about these kinds of things, mostly because I planned to here anyway this afternoon, I can’t help but agree with one of my colleagues when he made the comment “this underlines the dysfunction that is______(fill in school)” The institution as a whole is experiencing growing pains, but hopefully those will smooth themselves out in the upcoming year.
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Yesterday, cut up the preface to my thesis. Literally, I took a pair of scissors, and I cut it into twenty six separate paragraphs. This is mostly due to the fact that I want to reorganize it, and it is two difficult to try and do it on the computer without having a visual map first. After I finish typing this blog entry, I plan to continue reordering it and then I have to come up with names for the sections. I always struggles with prefaces or introductions. I did with my Comp and my Master’s thesis and now with my MFA thesis. I’ll be glad when I can send it out and not worry about it anymore.
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I’ve had cause over the last few days to ponder the issue of aging. I’m still thinking it over…
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We’re going to see Evil Dead the Musical at Theater on the Square Saturday night. I’m looking forward to it. It’s the first show I’ve gone to see in awhile.

The following blurb is from Theater on the Square’s website:

Based on Sam Raimi’s 80s cult classic films, EVIL DEAD tells the tale of 5 college kids who travel to a cabin in the woods and accidentally unleash an evil force. And although it may sound like a horror, its not! The songs are hilariously campy and the show is bursting with more farce than a Monty Python skit. EVIL DEAD: THE MUSICAL unearths the old familiar story: boy and friends take a weekend getaway at abandoned cabin, boy expects to get lucky, boy unleashes ancient evil spirit, friends turn into Candarian Demons, boy fights until dawn to survive. As musical mayhem descends upon this sleepover in the woods, “camp” takes on a whole new meaning with uproarious numbers like “All the Men in my Life Keep Getting Killed by Candarian Demons,” “Look Who’s Evil Now” and “Do the Necronomicon.” Outer Critics Circle nomination for Outstanding New Off-Broadway Musical.

Friday (Happy Halloween!) Musings

I love Halloween. This year I decided to dress up as a pumpkin. I decided this yesterday, so this afternoon (as soon as I’m done with this post) I’m ditching my office hours and going to the craft store. We have two parties to attend this weekend, so I also have to make some scary treats. Good times.
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Our Humanities Department here at school recently received a grant to fund The Year of Galileo Project which is an “interdisciplinary inquiry into Community and Cosmos, commemorates the 400th anniversary of the Italian astronomer Galileo Galilei first using the telescope to look at the wonders of the night sky.”

As part of the program, I was asked to sit on a panel and discuss how writing/literature could be used to communicate with aliens if they ever landed at Ivy Tech. Below is a picture of yours truly attempting to be academic:

Anyway. It was a lot of fun, and despite the fact that the audience was a bit on the skimpy side, I think it was a good program. Hopefully more programs like this will start coming to fruition.
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Friday (Are we done yet?) Musings

I’m here at school at 8:47 on a Friday morning. Again. I’m gearing up for new faculty orientation. Again. I feel like I’ve been oriented almost to the point of exhaustion. It isn’t that these sessions aren’t helpful. It’s just that I’ve been here long enough where the information is starting to repeat.
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It is a rainy fall day. There is a mild chance of flurries next week and the temperature is supposed to slip down to 20. Welcome winter…believe it or not, I’ve missed you.
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I’m playing with an idea for a poem, which has begun in the form of a free write about flannel sheets. This is what I have so far:

I was lying in bed the other night and it was the first night this month, October, where it felt like fall. The temperature was about 40 degrees. I’ve had flannel sheets on my bed since September, as if I am trying to will the cooler air through the windows. Finally, my cool air came and I twisted myself up as tight as I could in those sheets.

What is it about flannel?

For a time, my flannel sheets smelled like cedar because we used to keep them in a cedar chest that my grandfather built. There was something primitive about the feel of flannel, grainy but soft and the smell of cedar that made me feel like I was sleeping in dirt.

Flannel means comfort and nurturing and a sense of home. I associate flannel sheets with Christmas and holidays.

It is difficult to climb out of a bed made with flannel sheets.

Flannel means bargain. The last two sets of sheets I bought were one sale. High quality. Laura Ashley.

Flannel means sleep, hibernate, tunnel down and don’t come out.

Flannel smells like a wet dog when it is being washed.
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National Novel Writing Month is upon us once again. Despite the fact that I have no spare time and currently no computer at home, I’m going to give it a go.

Friday Musings

I’m back at school today. As a new faculty member, I have orientations every Friday. So far they’ve been very helpful. Today’s session was over wikis and blogs and how we can incorporate them into Blackboard. We also received a tutorial over smart boards, which was neat and informative. Unlike some of my colleagues, I’m more than willing to embrace technology in the classroom. I think where educators make the mistake is when they don’t have a Plan B. Technology, just like many other things, is not full proof. If you go into a classroom planning to use a computer, projector, or smart board, you should also go into that same classroom prepared that those machines may not work. Part of teaching is being prepared. If you’re prepared, you’ll be fine no matter what.
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This theme of this weekend is “eat, drink, and be merry.” R and I and friends are attending the Greek Festival and Oktoberfest. Good times!
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I just read the winning story for the Emerging Writers Network fiction contest. Here is the link to the story, The Secret Life of Engineers, by David Borofka. I was struck by the title and the story is very good. Here is what the judge, Alyson Hagy, said about it:

The height of summer in the Rocky Mountains is the worst time of the year to judge a literary contest. Because it’s perfect outside. The sky, the alpine meadows, the back country streams are all signing their Siren songs. So it takes a very good set of short stories to keep me indoors…and interested.
“The Secret Life of Engineers” is a story that knows its voice and heart. It never resorts to literary pyrotechnics. It doesn’t try to do too much, and it left me with a rich, complicated sense of its characters despite the fact that it’s not very long. It’s a story that believes in itself, and thus, it made a believer out of me. The author of this story has a wonderful ear (there’s not a syllable out of place, in my opinion). He or she also has a keen sense of comic timing. In fact, most of the best stories I read for the contest were funny. Thank goodness for that. I loved the brio and balls of many, many of these entries. These writers are not shy, and that’s a good thing. They have something to say and good tales to tell…and they kept me glued to my chair despite the lure of the great Wyoming outdoors.

Thursday Musings

It has been an interesting two weeks here at the community college where I teach. There have been a lot of major changes that have impacted the school on a global level and then there have been smaller changes that have only impacted me. Having recently moved from an adjunct faculty member to a full time faculty member, I’ve had to readjust a little bit and some of those adjustments have caused me to discover new things, while others have reaffirmed things I already knew.

DISCLAIMER: I would just like to say that in the next part of this post I am in no way shape or form slamming adjuncts. I was an adjunct/Teaching fellow for 3 1/2 years, so I understand and sympathize with the hardships that come along with that kind of work.

I’m often frustrated by the lack of extra time that adjuncts are willing to spend with students. I know that they are only part time faculty, I know that they are more often than not under appreciated and under paid, and I know that many of them have second and even third jobs that they must have to make ends meet. That being said, it is their decision to teach and that is a decision that should be taken seriously. This little rant was prompted by a former student of mine who emailed me for help concerning her English class this semester. She was having a hard time thinking of a topic for her essay and wanted to run a few ideas by me. I told her I’d be happy to help but that she should ask her new instructor for help first. Well, I know her instructor and I know she’s an adjunct, so unfortunately it came as no surprise when she told me she had asked and the instructor had said “I’ll help you after you have a first draft.” Well, obviously, this isn’t going to help much in the area of topic generation. While it is a students responsibility to come up with their own topic, more often than not they just need to bounce some ideas of someone in order to get on the right track (which is exactly what happened with my student). We talked for twenty minutes, and she left here feeling more confident about her essay. All it took was twenty minutes. Sigh.
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Tuesday Musings

Just received this in my email:
New York, September 2—Louise Glück has been selected as the recipient of the 2008 Wallace Stevens Award from the Academy of American Poets. The $100,000 prize recognizes outstanding and proven mastery in the art of poetry. Brigit Pegeen Kelly has been selected as the recipient of the 2008 Academy Fellowship, which is awarded once a year to a poet for distinguished poetic achievement and provides a stipend of $25,000. The Academy’s Board of Chancellors, a body of fourteen eminent poets, selects the Wallace Stevens Award and Academy Fellowship recipients.
Of Louise Glück’s work, Academy Chancellor Robert Pinsky said:

Louise sometimes uses language so plain it can almost seem like someone is speaking to you spontaneously—but it’s always intensely distinguished…There’s always a surprise in Louise’s writing; in every turn, every sentence, every line, something goes somewhere a little different, or very different, from where you thought it would.

Louise Gluck was born in New York City in 1943 and grew up on Long Island. She is the author of numerous books of poetry, including Averno (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006), The Seven Ages (Ecco, 2001), Vita Nova (1999), Meadowlands (1996), The Wild Iris (1992), Ararat (1990), and The Triumph of Achilles (1985). She has also published a collection of essays, Proofs and Theories: Essays on Poetry (1994).
Her many honors include the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, the National Book Critics Circle Award for Poetry, the Bollingen Prize in Poetry, and the Lannan Literary Award for Poetry. In 2003, she was appointed Poet Laureate of the United States by the Library of Congress. She currently is a writer-in-residence at Yale University, and she lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
About writing poetry, Louise Glück wrote:

The world is complete without us. Intolerable fact. To which the poet responds by rebelling, wanting to prove otherwise… The poet lives in chronic dispute with fact, and an astonishment occurs: another fact is created, like a new element, in partial contradiction of the intolerable.

Brigit Pegeen Kelly was born in Palo Alto, California, in 1951. She is the author of The Orchard (BOA Editions, 2004), a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry and the National Book Circle Critics Award in Poetry; Song (1995), which was the 1994 Lamont Poetry Selection of the Academy of American Poets; and To The Place of Trumpets (Yale University Press, 1988), which was selected by James Merrill for the Yale Series of Younger Poets.
About Kelly’s work, Academy Chancellor Carl Phillips said:

In the course of her three books, Brigit Kelly has shaped a poetry and vision that demand to be taken on their own terms—which is to say, there’s an originality that is everywhere unmistakable. Her sentences shuttle steadily back and forth to produce a tapestry-like meditation that throws into arresting—often disturbing—relief a world that lies “beyond the report of beauty,” where cruelty and sweetness are easily, perhaps necessarily, confusable for one another, a world whose topography is at once mythic, recognizable, and utterly Kelly’s own.

Kelly’s additional honors include a “Discovery”/The Nation Award, the Cecil Hemley Award from the Poetry Society of America, a Pushcart Prize, the Theodore Roethke Prize from Poetry Northwest, and a Whiting Writers Award. Kelly, who has taught for many years primarily at the University of Illinois, has also taught at the University of California at Irvine, Purdue University, and Warren Wilson College. In 2002 the University of Illinois presented her with two awards for excellence in teaching.
Louise Glück and Brigit Pegeen Kelly will be participating in the Poets Forum (November 6-8 in New York City) where they will read from their work at the Poets Awards Ceremony. Louise Glück will also be part of panel discussions on contemporary poetry presented by the Academy of American Poets. For more information, please visit
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I really admire Kelly and Gluck, so I’m very pleased they received these awards. I would love to go to NYC to hear them read, but alas I’m a poor poet/professor. I wonder what it would be like to have unlimited funds where I could go to any workshop, panel, lecture, or retreat I wanted to go to…one can dream. Speaking of conferences, early registration for AWP is coming up in October. Three cheers for the windy city!
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I enjoyed my class this afternoon. We discussed the art of observation and how it can be useful in all types of writing. I used the famous excerpt about the old tom cat from Annie Dillard’s A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek when I talked about sensory detail. They thought it was gross and talked about it for 20 minutes. I loved it.

Welcome

This is my first official post on the new blog. My inspiration for this project began with an assignment I was given this past spring while working on my MFA. I instructed to follow two literary blogs (of my choosing) for the entire semester. I followed Avoiding the Muse and Elegant Variation and enjoyed both blogs immensely. I’m starting small and hoping to increase the content gradually.

Here goes!

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The fall semester began this week, so I’m back to teaching composition. When school starts back up again, I start to think about fall (my favorite season). When I begin to think about fall, I start thinking about all the wonderful poems that are associated with the season in some way or another. To commemorate my love of all things autumn, I’ve decided to post a poem a week that is some way associated with fall. This weeks poem is “Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, OH” by James Wright.

Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, OH

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.

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I recently took on a full time teaching position at the school where I’ve been adjuncting over the past two years. I’ll probably be posting about the different experiences that come with this new position. So far, my first week is moving along relatively smoothly. The biggest glitch is that I am currently without any furniture in my office. I’m afraid that if any students stop by during office hours, they’re going to think I’m squatting. Updates to follow.

I took this picture about a month ago. Poetry is everywhere.