Terrible Thoughts from the Past 24 hours

1. I graded 32 papers last night while I had John Carpenter’s The Thing on television as background noise. Of course, the movie distracted me in all of its nailbiting gory suspense. However, all I could think of at the moment was the fact that Keith David was in it, and I STILL have yet … Continue reading →

Introducing Bertram, Bertrude’s BFF. (Uncensored)

Bertram is the meanest bastard I’ve ever encountered at work. I’m convinced he’s a flat-out sociopath. I think he takes pleasure in making everyone’s life an absolute hell. Bertram doesn’t give a toss if you have to produce 75 copies for your composition classes for the day, the first that will be underway in less than an hour. … Continue reading →

The Place Where “Autumn” Doesn’t Exist

I’d love to say that autumn is my favorite season of the year, what with its changing leaves, smoky-cozy air, pumpkin-spices, toasted marshmallows, shorter days, and chilly climes. Seriously though, what is all that? The signs are certainly evident. The days are growing shorter I suppose, and school has been in session for a few … Continue reading →

Ten Minutes of Bitching on Pitching.

So I’ve done something I never thought I’d ever do: I’ve committed myself to attending a writing conference’s pitch sessions. It’s an internal commitment, mind you, not a I’ve-paid-the-conference-fee sort of set-in-stone commitment. My workplace has had me add this to my Faculty Goals form, probably because if I am successful (even though the odds … Continue reading →

Bertrude.

  Let me get on the record here by stating that I absolutely detest Bertrude. Bertrude (aka Betrude the Rude, the Bertinator, Bertie Wertie, Bertrash, Bertroomhilda) is my office PC. She’s like the worst possible colleague one could have in academia. She is… …stubborn (refuses to do what is asked of her because “her” way … Continue reading →

The Waldmohr House

            I was eleven years old, not quite old enough to accept the situation my father’s military service had suddenly whisked us into. At eleven, I ought to have had that sense of predictability, a comfortable routine of sorts like a normal girl my age. My father’s job, however, moved … Continue reading →