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marginalia gratae: A Beautiful Mind
http://marginalia-gratae.blogspot.com/2009/10/beautiful-mind.html
Friday, October 2, 2009. On June 11, 2008, my grandmother went to the hospital for a routine, preventative procedure, during which she sustained significant, unexpected trauma. That singular event changed not only her entire state of existence, but it altered our family dynamic and, from all accounts, reframed and redefined both ‘the personal’ and ‘the professional’ for the doctor who performed the procedure. While I was talking with my mom last night, she explained that the subject of nearly all these c...
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marginalia gratae: May 2009
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Saturday, May 30, 2009. What I Have to Show . . . Should have based my study on Ralph Ellison. Or maybe I just should have stayed in medicine . . . It’s a word- have you heard? Though I really kinda dig the theory. Foucault and Derrida can make me weary. Writer’s block, watch the clock,. Read a little more of Locke. Who knew it could inspire such self-loathing? Oh, suck it up and quit your damn bemoaning.). It’s the path that I chose,. Now I’m off to compose . . . Thursday, May 21, 2009. Still, some of t...
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marginalia gratae: An experiment
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Wednesday, September 30, 2009. Bear with me for a moment, folks: I've grown bored with myself. Bored with my writing, which has grown ever more academic and dense. Bored with my thinking, which feels hopelessly unremarkable. Bored with my scholarship, even as it is becoming more relevant and interesting. Boo-frickin'-hoo. So this morning I had a thought. I scribbled a couple lines of verse. Light frost at morning's light,. The delicious scent of autumn's breath. Brings promise and renewal. Renee Peterson...
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marginalia gratae: A Trio of Poems
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Monday, October 5, 2009. A Trio of Poems. Some days, it is better to listen . . . O hushed October morning mild,. Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;. Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,. Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call;. Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild,. Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled,. Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day;. At noon release another leaf;.
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marginalia gratae: September 2008
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Monday, September 29, 2008. Just One: Number 8. A dear friend and colleague recently posted a MySpace bulletin that included the following question:. 8 Thoughts on the presidential campaign? This is my attempt at answering it. Make no mistake: this election is of monumental importance. Still, I fully appreciate the fact that the executive branch is much larger than the president, and the election is much larger than its primary players. Thursday, September 25, 2008. As I mentioned in a previous post.
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marginalia gratae: January 2009
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Wednesday, January 21, 2009. Need I say anything else . . . I'M A PROUD MEMBER OF STEEERS NATION! Thursday, January 1, 2009. Salt, Bread, and Silver. As per my family’s tradition, I sent my husband out in the sub-zero temperatures just after midnight to retrieve the “New Year’s Bucket,” a container holding salt, silver, and bread, which I set out on the back stoop on New Year’s Eve. Did I mention that my husband is a good sport? I’d say that’s a pretty good way to start the New Year. Katy Southern: Harmo...
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marginalia gratae: April 2009
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Friday, April 24, 2009. From NPR's All Things Considered: April 23, 2009. The segment begins, "Thirty-eight years ago this week . . .". Senator John Kerry this week chaired the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, the same committee he once stood before, voicing his opposition to military action in Vietnam. A different war, a different time, a remarkable juxtaposition. History, or perhaps our desire to see patterns and construct narratives, certainly lends itself to poetics. Opinions on the war aside, wit...
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marginalia gratae: Eight Years
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Friday, September 11, 2009. I'm doing what many are doing today: remembering. It comes to me in snapshots now, only eight years later, rather than in a neat and consistent narrative. Maybe that is how I experienced it, through the burdened silence and plethoric fog of disbelief and nascent grief. Snapshots. That striking, clear sky seems to have worked its way into our collective memory. Calm, still, unchanging blue. I finally reached my mother some time later. She hadn't yet heard. That evening, Kurt an...