Archive for November, 2012
Thursday, November 22nd, 2012
I keep handing these out…
I have an envelope on my blackboard that always holds a couple of copies of this guide, in fact, and they keep disappearing – so I hope I am doing my part when it comes to a) making term paper writing easier and b) increasing the overall quality of term papers. I also hand them out in my classes as a matter of course. (And if you want to read the digital version, its up on the “Files” page).
Also, high apertures, how do I love thee, let me count the ways (and learn how to best work with you … we are only just getting acquainted, after all!).
Wednesday, November 21st, 2012
’cause I taught it last week – TDLaSM: The Rainy Day
The Rainy Day
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Tuesday, November 20th, 2012
It’s not a particularly good or artistic photo of a cat, but I’ve been vaguely looking for an example of the felis catus species for months now whenever I had my camera with me, to fulfil that particular unfilled prompt on my “photos I have been challenged to take” list – and since I don’t know encounter any cats regularly and am allergic to them and so don’t precisely go out looking for any, no opportunity presented itself. Until I encountered our neighbourhood cat today (sans ‘proper’ camera, however). So this is snapped with my mobile phone, but I am going to proclaim it a ‘fill’ anyway.
Tuesday, November 13th, 2012
Hey hey hay!
I am teaching A Day at the Races tomorrow, so this fits in with that … kinda :-).
Saturday, November 10th, 2012
Except the heaven had come so near,
So seemed to choose my door,
The distance would not haunt me so;
I had not hoped before.
But just to hear the grace depart
I never thought to see,
Afflicts me with a double loss;
‘T is lost, and lost to me.
Tuesday, November 6th, 2012
Under my umbrella
It’s raining in Flensburg. Today I got to talk about Shakespeare (a lot) and sonnets and Edna St. Vincent Millay and e. e. cummings and WCW and Ezra Pound and imagism and tropes and poetry and its theory and metaphors and metonymies and litotes and oxymora and hyperboles and similes (&c) and Jeff Noon and Cavalier & Clay and golems and Beloved and The Echo Maker and things the thunder said (DA) and Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell and the next term and The Color Purple and Oscar Wilde and The Reivers and reading lists and lots of other things that all slot into this somehow or are connected to it or simply came up in the course of two classes, a project meeting, office hours and general academic do-daahing. And I totally took my Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland lesson outline to my A Midsummer Night’s Dream session, but it was ok because I’d brought that outline, too (and my office is only about 50m from that particular classroom, anyway…). Alice has to wait until Thursday, though.
And then I went home and made some dinner and now I feel like I maybe just ought to go sleep, even though it isn’t 9pm yet, because it was a long day and the next two will be the same and tomorrow morning is all Hays Code and Modern Times and go go go.
Or I might watch that thing on ARTE about the US elections. Hmm. (I’ve also been explaining the Electoral College from time to time, these last weeks, but that’s kind of par for the course :-)).
And PS – ooops, sorry: WCW = William Carlos Williams.
Monday, November 5th, 2012
Cowboy Lullabies and Country Skies
and country skies
songs of the road
calling your soul
into the open again.
an old, old frontier,
ancient as time’s first memory.
They take your wayward heart,
and guide it home.