The very idea of texting your mother…
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You tell me if you get this: a student gets up to leave at the end of this morning's class, and casually turns back to me and says, “Well teetle, I guess! Have a good weekend!” Teetle? Do you know what that means? I didn’t either. I asked her to repeat it. “I said ‘teetle.’” “Do you mean like toodle-loo? Is that what you’re trying to say? As in, See you later, toodle-loo?” “I would never say that. That sounds dumb.” There was a lull as we tried to figure out how to communicate what, at first glance, appeared to be nothing but a simple, closing remark as she...
And, for the record, I really like my shower curtain.
Last night. Oh, my, last night... Full house. Standing ovation. Sheer exhaustion. After party. Kudos. The usuals. Totally worth it...all the rehearsals, which in this case were rather tightly thrown together and quickly so, and the lines...oh god, the lines...I've never been that close to Shakespeare (he seems standoffish like my cousin Jonathan - sure, sure, he'll speak, he'll pass you the potato salad if you ask him, but he won't really like doing it, and you'll be able to tell from the look on his face, but it'll be a private thing, not broadcast to the whole dinner table). But, last night, Shakespeare...
The Educator-Writer-Procrastinator Gives an Opinion
There’s a monologue, mostly in my mind since I’ve not put it to page yet, about this man who’s still young but held, gripped, by this fear that he’s losing language, losing words, and throughout the entire monologue he struggles with confessing this because he keeps forgetting what to say to express how he’s feeling. It’s a tragic little piece of prose; at least, in my mind. I keep procrastinating when it comes to writing it down. I procrastinate a lot, and I don’t know why; it’s obviously an illness as yet to be fully defined the APA. I like to...
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