-
Recent Posts
Archives
- May 2026
- April 2026
- January 2026
- April 2025
- March 2025
- February 2025
- December 2024
- October 2024
- September 2024
- April 2024
- January 2024
- November 2023
- October 2023
- November 2022
- August 2021
- May 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- April 2018
- February 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- November 2014
- September 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
Categories
- American Players Theatre
- Anxiety/Depression/Yuck
- Authenticity
- Baseball
- Bloem or Pog
- Body Image
- Burnout
- Car Sonnets
- Carbondale
- Color of the Month
- Creativity
- Creativity Workshops
- Daring Greatly
- Dream Songs
- Drinking
- Family
- Feedback
- Fiction
- Folks I Loves
- François Arnaud
- God Stuff
- Good Things 2 Good People
- Healthy Health
- Heated Rivalry
- Hot Take Poem
- hudson williams
- Indiegogo Perk "A shout out"
- Jimmy Fallon
- Joss Whedon
- Marvel
- meditation
- midterms
- Mindful Driving
- mindfulness
- Montana
- Most Bizarre
- Mt. Vernon
- NaPoWriMo
- On Wisconsin
- Opdyke
- Pandemic Poems
- Pedagogy Stew
- Places
- Poetry
- Poetry journal
- Politics
- Procrastination
- Publishing
- Purgatory Kentucky
- Searching
- sonnets
- Southern Illinois
- Spring Green
- St. Louis Cardinals
- Sustainable Chaos
- Sylvia Plath
- Teaching
- The Sh*tty Barn
- Top Ten Top Five Top Three Lists
- Twenty-one Days of Bradley Cooper
- Two Crows
- Uncategorized
- UW System
- UW-Richland
- villanelles
- Work Life
- Writing
- You Really Oughta Read This
Meta
-
Join 200 other subscribers
- Anxiety/Depression/Yuck Authenticity Bloem or Pog Burnout Car Sonnets Creativity Daring Greatly Family Folks I Loves God Stuff Healthy Health NaPoWriMo On Wisconsin Opdyke Pandemic Poems Pedagogy Stew Poetry Poetry journal Politics Procrastination Searching Southern Illinois Spring Green Sustainable Chaos Teaching Uncategorized UW-Richland UW System Work Life Writing
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Hamlet’s Back at Devil’s Lake
The actor playing him this summer’s there,
I mean to say. He likes to memorize
while hiking, where the purple quartzite shines
and the T-Rex headed vultures soar.
The rock he’s on is so much older than
the play he’s in. They’re metamorphic mirrors–
hard things from Shakespeare and tectonic shifting–
still shiny, still showing us us after years
and years, hundreds, and millions, a billion years.
It is time and timelessness. And time is time,
not out of joint, not yet, still gracious here.
He is morphing, but the actor is still Matt,
and this Prince of Denmark loves his dog.
(If only poor Ophelia’d had a cat.)
_____
Oh! I can’t wait to see Hamlet this summer–great fun to be had and heartache to be felt and always, always interesting to see a new actor take on the old speeches and give them to us new.
Which reminds me–I need to get all my tickets figured out! To the box office with me, anon!
If you haven’t already made your own plans, you really oughta go to American Players Theatre.
_____
(Apologies for the sprung rhyme scheme above. Once I’d thought of “If only poor Ophelia’d had a cat,” I couldn’t let it go. Fortunately “cat” rhymes with “Matt.” But “dog” is just hanging out there, not rhyming with anything. Yet. I might revise. In any case, I know Matt will take care of his dog. And dogs mostly don’t care about rhymes. Thanks, Matt, for letting me share the pics–especially the puppy one. How could anyone look at that picture and not smile?)
Posted in American Players Theatre, Bloem or Pog, Car Sonnets, On Wisconsin, Poetry, Spring Green, Uncategorized
Tagged American Players Theatre, Hamlet, Quartzite
Something I (Seriously) Don’t Have Any More Time For
Worrying about whether or not people are making fun of me behind my back and I just don’t hear them.
“Pictures of People Who Mock Me” is provocative. It’s a much-read article from Salon.com, a daring idea for a series of photos, and it stuck in my imagination, so I would say it met at least some of the author’s/photographer’s goals. It bothered me, though, in two ways I’m not sure she intended.
My first GENIUS and BRILLIANT and INCREDIBLY WISE response was to think, “OH MY GOD. People probably make fun of me for being fat and I just don’t notice because I am a.)oblivious and b.)not just fat but also hard of hearing.”
That surely wasn’t the intent. That first response didn’t last very long. I just don’t have time to wonder, at least not for very long, if anyone’s response to me has anything to do with how much I weigh.
It occurs to me, of course. Today in the pool, I got there early enough to snag the lane I wanted. Another woman got there just a little later. Typically, people waiting on a lane sit on a bench by the pool. She sat on the side, straddling a lane marker, kicking her legs gently. She wasn’t right next to me, but close by. It occurred to me she might be trying to get those of us in the pool to hurry it up. It occurred to me she might look at me and think she deserved the lane more than me because she was in better shape. It then occurred to me that maybe she just wanted to make sure she was first in line because she really, really wanted to get her laps in. Whatever she was doing probably had absolutely nothing to do with my size, my fitness level, with me at all.
But I swam one more lap than I had planned just to make sure I wasn’t ceding my place in the pool out of insecurity on my part. (And on the off chance she was trying to be intimidating.)
Second, I’m doing lots and lots of difficult, ongoing, hard work in my own head about shame. Did I mention it’s difficult? Everything Brene Brown ever wrote helps me. The people who did indeed mock Haley Morris-Cafeiro were wrong to do it. Mean to do it. If they saw themselves as shaming her in order to motivate her, they were mean and wrong and totally not up on the research that shows shame is not a good motivator for change (cf: everything Brene Brown ever wrote).
But since shame makes everything worse, not better, it made me uncomfortable to watch the photographer shame the shamers.
And then also, I had a whole train of thought about weight and body image and how we stake our place on the planet:
Engine of this train thought: it’s all about attitude. If you believe you’re beautiful and if you’re confident, you pull yourself past anyone who is making fun of you IF they bother to make fun of the Big-Ass Engine Who Could.
Coal car for the Big-Ass Engine Who Could: it’s all about energy. If you’re busy and you got places to go and things to do, people will have a hard time catching up to you to make faces behind your back. And you really don’t have time to spend on people who can’t be bothered to criticize you to your face. Probably don’t have time for people who CAN be bothered to make fun of you to your face.
Freight Car for the Big-Ass Engine Who Could: people who walk around mocking others have a bigger problem that whomever they are mocking. We all have issues. Baggage. Freight. Mocking others is one really ineffective way to deal with our own stuff.
Caboose: Beyonce.
Queen Latifah. Adele. I mean, seriously. It’s not about the pounds.
I know fat-shaming is real. I know it’s a problem. I also know someone who wants to shame has only one part of the equation. If I refuse to be shamed, all the fat-shaming in the world will fall flat. (Not that I’m resilient enough to resist all of it, in all the world. But don’t try to get me out the pool before I’m ready.)
I’m larger than I’d like to be. I’m working on it. I’m not sure reading/looking at “Pictures of People Who Mock Me” helped me, but it’s not her job to help me. It’s mine, and I’m doing it, and in regard to this article, I’ve done it.
And now I’m done.
Besides. Why would I spend any more moments at all on any of the above when I could be hanging out with our new kitten?
Bread to the Wise
for a friend whose battles are more private than mine
I know it’s not the same.
I’m not saying it’s the same.
It’s just I wear my shame.
It’s a fat suit I can’t take off.
Can’t seem to take off.
Have put back on, after taking off.
And oh, my house–it’s a mess.
In some ways glorious, in all ways,
or almost always, still a mess.
Skinny women with clean houses
are not (necessarily) full up on bliss.
In my head, I know this.
And a woman round as me
who is also a clutter-monkey
might not be a mess like me
inside her head.
She might not dread
the things I dread.
I know what you’re going through is different.
But if it helps, please take this offering
of what I couldn’t if I wanted to keep private.
_____
Ecclesiastes 9:11 “Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favour to the skilful; but time and chance happen to them all.”
Being as I am not particularly swift, not lifting weights regularly at the moment, not as wise as I’d like, not using my intelligence every time I ought, not using the skill-set I do have, lacking the skill-set I need…well then, by golly–this verse sounds like terrific news today.
When Good Things Happen to Good People, #1
Here’s something that’s true: Ecclesiastes 9:11 “Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favour to the skilful; but time and chance happen to them all.”
Another true way of saying that true thing: there are lots of things that suck all over, all the time.
But here’s what’s also true:
Sometimes really great people have really great moments, and I’m totally in the mood to celebrate some of those.
[Biblically, we can move from Ecclesiastes, pretty much my favorite book in the Bible, to one of the epistles of the apostle Paul (I like to say it that way because about half the time, in my head, when I say it, it comes out the apostles of the epistle Paul). I have issues with Paul, sure. Or should I say, ISSUES. But he had his moments, such as Romans 12: 15 “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” We’ll get to the weeping some other time.]
Ryan Martin teaches & researches at UW-Green Bay. I’ve hung out with him some at events focused on the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning. He’s fun to watch on various social media outlets. And he’s a great blogger. Recently he got to have one of those moments academics dream of, a good meal with an important scholar.
[That’s one vision of Heaven, for academics, that I’m sure would feel like Hell to others, but wow–what if we could have good food and meaningful conversations with people we’ve read for years? Ah….]
I was so happy to read about Ryan’s meal with Dr. Albert Bandura (I recognized the name!) & very interested to read a “5 Things I Learned (or was reminded of) During My Dinner with Dr. Albert Bandura.”
Ryan says Bandura is “doing important work that changes the lives of people across the globe.”
You know what? Bandura isn’t the only one.
Posted in God Stuff, Good Things 2 Good People, On Wisconsin, Uncategorized
Tagged Albert Bandura, Ryan Martin
When a Marriage Makes
When a marriage makes a baby,
no one is surprised.
When a marriage makes a mess,
well, likewise.
When a marriage makes a record,
it is some kind of sign.
When a marriage makes a book,
that book, that marriage–they’re mine.
____
_____
40 years ago, I put together a collection of some of my own poems along with outright thefty poems cobbled from Beatles lyrics & birthday cards. It was made of typing paper, bound with construction paper and yarn. This was in order to get out of trouble in 3rd grade (having been squirrelly in math class).
I still hope, eventually, to publish a collection of poems through conventional channels, but how lovely it is to have a husband who can take a manuscript of my poems related to teaching, and make of it…a book.
Posted in Bloem or Pog, Creativity Workshops, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Publishing, Teaching, Uncategorized, Writing
Prayer of Worry, Prayer of Love
On seeing pictures of bombing suspects, I thought
how very much they looked just like my students.
And now on hearing that “they’re not from here,”
I’m worried about my students, who are from everywhere.
I want to say my students, to the world, to God,
How much I love them. They’re why I do this job
(however well or badly I end up doing it).
I love all my students, damn it.
I love my Muslim students. Christians, also,
of course, and atheists, and everything else, too,
But today it’s Islam someone might be using
as an excuse to beat up a much-loved student.
We come to God so many different ways.
Or not at all. Let’s go where we find more love,
let’s offer hopes and wishes, good thoughts and prayers,
let’s be for each other what we all need more of.
Posted in Bloem or Pog, God Stuff, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Teaching, Uncategorized
Tagged NaPoWriMo
Headache Weather, Part 4
CJ
Everything’s tight,
everything hurts,
again with the shoulders
up by my ears.
Except for before
when I let loose
the sobbing today, right then
I was loose
all over, no crying for me,
no quiet tears, just heaves
of choking, some gasps,
a big, fat grief orgasm.
I am not pretty when I cry.
Eleanor
My sister was better acquainted
with the deceased, but, if I may,
let me observe how utterly
inappropriate her racket was today.
She says I’m cold at the core.
Well if I am, at least my ice
doesn’t go melting when and where
it ought not, leaving a big mess.
_____
CJ
Standing with the smokers,
watching the shadows of clouds race
up the big hill, wishing I could
walk there and lie down
in one of the big green stripes.
Now a big cloud covers the sun.
Now everything looks gray again.
Even the green looks smudged.
Headache Weather, Part 3
Eleanor
It was kind of a hard day, see,
because it was kind of misty
and I just could not get settled
on the the whole wiper setting
because one was too fast
and one was too slow
and the adjust-a-speed one
just wasn’t right at all,
so I was really irritated
when I got to the funeral.
Headache Weather, Part I
So far for National Poetry Writing Month, I’ve done a haiku-ish poem I like to think of as a like-ku, a parody, and some found poetry that led to a poem I found genuinely startling (did I really write a breakfast cereal called Jezebel Crunch that had little crunchy bits shaped like her hands and feet? Yes. Yes I did.)
So now let’s try some lines for a verse play, called Headache Weather. And then let’s see if I come back to it after today.
_____
CJ
Just driving in the driving rain
my elbows up around my ears,
I thought, “This is the kind of day
that I call ‘headache weather’
because I get these migraines
I don’t call migraines.
I figure calling them that
gives them power I don’t want
my headaches to have. Words
and names and utterance,
they all can make things
really real. Real as birds.
_____
Not really a verse play yet, just one voice speaking. Hm.







