tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-103954812012-02-16T04:42:03.872-05:00LouLou likes to talk. I just try to write it all down. Bring your own coffee. Pastries optional.F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.comBlogger1451100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-47926562863045615522008-01-30T11:18:00.000-05:002008-01-30T11:24:50.899-05:00

Hi out there.It's a weird thing. At one point, I actually wanted more visitors. Now? Not so much. I know that I have several visitors that have IP addresses that are "too close to home." No more (relative) anonymity, no more blog.My apologies to friends and family who may have periodically stopped by. I might start a new blog eventually. If I start a new blog and you'd be interested in reading it

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-69406900948343979802008-01-18T12:55:00.000-05:002008-01-18T13:08:48.701-05:00

(http://www.freeimages.co.uk/)I'm taking a blogging break during my workday; was very stressed about taking this break considering work on blah, blah, blah and all of my other blah, blah, blah other work on which I'm So Far Behind. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this many times, but I love the moon. I want to learn how to take pictures at night so I can capture some of the beautiful moons I've

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-71499130959902858912008-01-11T10:03:00.000-05:002008-01-11T10:24:35.056-05:00

I'm still working through the Artist's Way at Work. An important part of the process, the authors advocate, is the taking of "time-outs," a time period of 1-2 hours each week in which you explore something that seems interesting, or just go on an adventure.I'd been trying to convince myself that repeated visits to Super Target qualified as separate time outs-- if I went to different sections of

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-24955654136036849002007-12-25T22:32:00.000-05:002007-12-25T23:20:43.675-05:00

Well. At least one post a month? I think that's a target I can hit, or at least use to motivate me to write tonight. I'm watching S.O. play Halo 2, and every now and then, things flash across the screen like "You were sniped by stinky clamhole" and "You beat down Cash a Nash co." S.O. is playing on line with his dad, who has probably been consuming a good bit of Christmas Cheer.I was sad earlier,

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-86906077285688899832007-11-22T16:02:00.000-05:002007-11-22T16:04:33.663-05:00

So this is my first post in quite a while. Quite a while. This is the second time I've written since my Grandma died.Crazy--looking back a week ago, she actually died a week before I was remembering her death, that's how screwed up my perception of reality was.Anyway. Since then, I've gotten an absolutely shitty 3rd year review. I've been through an appeal, with the majority of my colleagues

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-81347141274981983232007-10-24T16:51:00.000-04:002007-10-24T17:13:12.686-04:00

So, it's either today or tomorrow that is "Blog Action Day."This reminds me of something I've been meaning to write about. Over the weekend, we went to an art festival, where my mother struck up a conversation with an artist who had rendered places traveled in mixed media paintings.She talked about the process by which she took photographs of places she'd been (on her international travels),

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-56621005287601175042007-09-28T19:14:00.000-04:002007-09-28T19:22:24.284-04:00

Grandma died this morning. I had written a letter to her earlier this year, a letter I had been meaning to write for a long time. I'm glad that I got around to doing it. That letter is below.Dear Grandma—You’ve been on my mind. I’ve been thinking about the gift of your presence in my life. So much is said these days about the struggles of women who juggle the roles of worker, mother, wife,

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-49853142831175955342007-09-24T12:58:00.000-04:002007-09-24T13:09:58.653-04:00

I'm sensing a theme here. I keep having doubts about the posts that I make to my non-anonymous, "professional" blog. Makes me think that perhaps I should just skip the middle step and post anything longer than a paragraph here at LouLou's. Warning: the post below is a tad lengthy.On Ontologies and the MoonRelationality and mobility are the root metaphors that have come to guide my thinking about

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-43507301384419289682007-09-24T12:42:00.000-04:002007-09-24T12:56:01.375-04:00

God has plans for you. Or, at least this is what an angel named Earl told Detective Anna "Grace" Darko in the season finale of Saving Grace on TNT. In the show, Grace is a boozing, slutty police detective who is visited on a regular basis by Earl, who has been sent to "help her"…I'd tivoed the final show, and I just watched the end of it after having a phone meeting with a graduate student who

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-67157341401227854712007-09-14T21:10:00.000-04:002007-09-14T21:13:20.663-04:00

...Still thinking about the Hollywoodization of anthropologists, "Bones," in particular. I'm certain that the cult of personality, as manifested in our professional meetings, is partially to blame for my preoccupation. Bones is just Hollywood's version of the cool social scientist that draws a standing room only crowd when he/she gives a presentation at a conference.And really, who can forget the

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-30418355747398848382007-09-10T15:28:00.000-04:002007-09-10T15:34:57.164-04:00

I am on a quest to link my work with my play. For example, I would like nothing better than to have a caramel sunday from McDonald's, to rent the first season of Bones, and find the episode where Bones goes to a Hip Hop club and gets into a fight with a stereotypically "ghetto-acting" Black lady after Bones says that she really likes the "animalistic" beat of the music.I mean, there are times

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-8055823682092897832007-08-29T17:30:00.000-04:002007-09-10T15:27:21.792-04:00

Although I talk about Buddhism as an active source of spirtuality in my life, I stop just short of claiming it. When I pray, the idea of a benevolent patriarchal figure looking down on me seems practically burned into my psyche--perhaps due to my attendance of Grace Evangelical Lutheran church EVERY Sunday as a child living at my dad's house, or perhaps due to the influence of my Grandpa and

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-9680288920468403152007-08-22T13:54:00.000-04:002007-08-22T14:12:04.176-04:00

It's been a little over three months--roughly the whole summer--and I've been working my way through two of Julie Morgenstern's self-help books: "Organizing from the Inside Out," and "Time Management From the Inside Out."'I have a whole notebook devoted to organization and time management notes and journaling. It's this woman's equivalent of an IEP (Individualized Education Plan, all students

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-11857457738235253502007-08-14T23:53:00.001-04:002007-08-15T00:25:26.508-04:00

You know you may be depressed when Google decides that the most relevant ad to put at the bottom of your blog begins like this: "feeling stuck? Depression effects us all..." or this gem that I just noticed: "Save your marriage now!" I guess I can't complain too much--clearly, I seem only to post when I'm at the bottom of my emotional barrel.So for a change of pace, let me attempt to write about

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-31583934616704922242007-07-24T23:42:00.000-04:002007-07-25T00:21:02.040-04:00

I wonder whether it's important to know what my purpose is...The question of what I'm doing here has plagued me for a long time. And, obsessed as I am with finding the "right" questions to ask about the multidimensional nature of human experience, I feel like I'm just coming to understand how unimportant it is to focus on finding a "purpose."I'm just here, wherever here is. That doesn't mean that

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-89486014591108435502007-06-22T17:43:00.000-04:002007-06-22T17:58:44.191-04:00

4:45p.m. on Friday, June 22, 2007.I see that my last post was at the beginning of May, and I am amazed at how long ago that seems. I'm working my way through Julie Morgenstern's books "Organizing from the Inside Out" and "Time Management from the Inside Out." In the latter book, she asks the question, "If there were one thing that you could add to your life to make you happier and more fulfilled,

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-58299372571751042622007-05-07T18:31:00.000-04:002007-05-07T18:45:23.957-04:00

It probably hasn't been that long; well, I know it hasn't. After all, there was that REALLY cheerful last posting.Since then, I have had a successively imploded existence. The grant I've been working on for the last two years was blindsided by my collaborator's assertion that our working relationship "was unproductive and unhealthy." Of course, this was after I showed callous disregard for how

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-3975015502669234872007-04-23T17:23:00.000-04:002007-04-23T18:32:20.995-04:00

I just deleted most of what was a straight up bitchy post. I just feel so frustrated sometimes.Maybe a bit of Buddhist advise would help:See with your Eyes every Sight.Hear with your Ears every Sound.Smell with your Nose every Smell.Taste with your Tongue every Taste.Feel with your Body every Feeling.Think with your Mind every Thought.Function pure untainted by Greed or Hatred.Penetrate deep and

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-56442265709259515642007-04-20T22:40:00.000-04:002007-04-21T21:28:14.441-04:00

My marriage is falling apart. Today in the shower I contemplated what it would be like to be a single parent...to do the one thing I promised I would never do--give my daughter a life as a child of "broken home." Though I feel that the idea of a broken home is bullshit--there are plenty of two parent homes that are cracked and broken--I still don't want to do that to her.What we have is a dried

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-27764543289936193882007-01-25T17:30:00.000-05:002007-01-25T17:50:19.557-05:00

4:30pm. A. is wondering at this very moment, when I will be coming to scoop her up from her preschool day.I'm going to go old school though--this is going to be a random, unwieldy, poorly written post simply because I could care less about whether anyone sticks around long enough to get past the first sentence. I just have to write, for me. S.O. has been gone the whole week. This is his second

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-22096378547304212162006-12-27T23:09:00.000-05:002006-12-27T23:42:13.549-05:00

As I lay curled in a full fledge PMS (or maybe just MS) depression, my S.O. tried to understand what was wrong. I'm sure that I was barely intelligible between sobs, but I think my answer was something like "Why..." (sob) am (sob) I (sob) here?" ImeanwhatismypurposeherebecauseIjustcan'tfigureitoutandI'msotired(sob)offeelinglikeI'mafailureateverythingatbeingawifeamotherI'mfailingatmyjobI(sob)

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-24301031270022215622006-12-21T00:36:00.000-05:002006-12-21T16:32:32.181-05:00

From the movie "Domino" (2005):Claremont Williams III, Bail Bondsman: It’s very simple. The DMV is the de facto conduit for all humanity. And every human being that we track down has a record in the DMV database…So we have people on the inside that feed us the information. Ed Mosbey, Bounty Hunter: Ahh. Shit. And who would know it. The gatekeepers of humanity turn out to be...a bunch’a sassy

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-34860156771039750032006-12-20T23:15:00.000-05:002006-12-20T23:54:09.589-05:00

Socksa few minutes of "The Devil Wears Prada"panties (the kid)drawhs (the husband)underwearA few more minutes of TDWPpants (hers)shorts (his)leaning tower of towels and washclothesthen downstairs for double strong coffeepercolating9:39pmCSI: NY (Bruckheimer's throw-away scripts)watch the last few minutes anywaywith double strong coffeemicrowaved soymilkthree shakes nutmegWatch the first few

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-14359129329299127262006-12-19T11:38:00.000-05:002006-12-19T12:11:48.399-05:00

A. and I play this game--well, not a game really. Is it a routine? A special mother-daughter ritual? Yeah, a ritual. It's called "The Best Part of My Day." At dinner, or while she's in the tub, or after I give her a hug and a kiss good night, I will say "So--what was the best part of your day?" She doesn't do it often, but sometimes if I'm lucky she will say "I think the best part of my day is

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-81421155838520507402006-12-15T14:29:00.001-05:002006-12-15T14:41:57.413-05:00

Growing up, every year my father swore that this would be the Christmas that we would NOT be getting gifts. Of course, there was no room in the manger for a well-meaning idealist like him—bless his heart. Pitted against giants like the JC Penney and Sears Wishbooks—and later, the big daddy of them all, the sacred Toys-R-Us Toy Book—he was doomed to fail. And he did. Year after year, after year.

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-51088203414301161292006-12-14T15:37:00.000-05:002006-12-14T15:55:28.382-05:00

So I haven't written in almost ten days. I've been busy counting the crumbs of petrified food that have accumulated under A.'s table. It's harder than one might think, since some of the food has been there long enough to take on the color of our carpet.Just kidding...sort of.Since my mother-in-law graciously watched my daughter every night last week, I am now in the netherworld of meal planning--

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-2447606809721380552006-12-05T21:26:00.000-05:002006-12-05T22:04:30.914-05:00

So tonight my father-in-law called, he wanted to buy S.O. a shirt and tie set for Christmas. Hesitantly, I had to tell him that I doubted he’d be able to find one in S.O.’s size. He said “I thought he said he’d been losing weight.” I started feeling emotional. Why? S.O. called me a lot today—at 3:45 when I thought he was traveling the three hours back from his court appointment, turns out

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-86484087369683244842006-12-04T00:44:00.000-05:002006-12-04T00:56:40.799-05:00

I would really like to smoke a joint.Like a bookmark, this thought opens me to a familiar page, one with the word “escape” written at the top in capitalized, bold letters. I’ve been having this desire a lot lately, and since a physical escape seems unlikely…enter the illegal substance fantasy. In any case. It’s 11:30pm on Sunday night and I should either be cleaning the kitchen or in bed.

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-25931992636085848552006-12-02T18:04:00.000-05:002006-12-02T18:12:37.019-05:00

A Christmas Story (1983)A Charlie Brown ThanksgivingCharlie Brown's Christmas (1965)Bad Santa (2003) Bishop's Wife, The (1947) Die Hard (1988) Die Hard (1990)Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) Elf (2003) Family Stone, TheFrosty the Snowman (1969) (TV) Hannah and Her SistersHome Alone (1990) Home for the

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-33444176976773691032006-12-02T03:37:00.000-05:002006-12-02T04:14:09.926-05:00

Selfishly, I hope that you find yourself thinking, "what is this life." Last night I was searching for someone to listen to. Tonight, my daughter asked me why the moon follows us and I didn't know the answer. A told me that I know everything, but the only thing I knew then is that I would never again see that moment. I would not be (not even the next day!) that person I was for her tonight, as

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-26822238176606454272006-12-01T18:14:00.000-05:002006-12-01T18:37:25.704-05:00

5:14pm.Started the day at 7:11am, when S.O. informed me that he had a physical therapy appointment at 8am (he may have actually told me this at 11:48pm the night before, but it didn't register until he woke me up--could it have been the fact that last night when he told me I was actually asleep? Anyway). I woke A up, hustled and bustled her to school. S.O. went to said appointment, came back with

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-86293311266436627962006-12-01T12:53:00.000-05:002006-12-01T18:14:18.240-05:00

Time to writeEarl Grey TeaCorduroyLouLou Prada PerfumeHearing my 2 ½ yr old daughter say "I love you mommy. I like hanging out with you." (She’s now 4 ½ and says things like “I didn’t respect that to happen!”)Body Butter + Matching Pyjamas on sale from Walmart for $11.00Short StoriesThe PMS Peanut Butter Binge A head massage/brutal scalp exfoliation facilitated by the acrylic nails of the

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-27714645010590626762006-11-03T18:19:00.000-05:002006-12-01T13:08:37.863-05:00

I became a 36 year-old on November 2nd, though my Big Birthday Plan had been thwarted by... the Congressional Elections. Forget Watergate, Whitewater, even scandals involving homosexuality and interns...The people running our country have this brilliant idea that government employees should not be able to travel to meet with lowly assistant professors like myself until AFTER we find out who is

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-72421408188089332152006-10-23T10:33:00.000-04:002006-10-23T10:54:22.892-04:00

So, my day starts off with this gem from my S.O.:u made me frustrated this morning. A. should not be walking into school with a nasty nose. period. YOU...were the person who got her ready. not me. YOU...are the person who should check her out before letting her go out the door. her nose was horrible. all that you were talking about "maybe if you help me", etc etc etc - is just more of you

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-58588302330584379202006-10-22T23:58:00.000-04:002006-10-23T00:13:35.189-04:00

Yesterday I bitched poetic about being caught between two social worlds; one of these worlds is quaint, country-fied and small town (as in, go to pay your cable bill, shop at WalMart, or rent a video and see someone who is either distantly related to you or who knows someone who is). The other social world? Same country-fied flavor, but dominated by the University's shadow, the ghosts of past

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-25555238948064747422006-10-21T16:12:00.000-04:002006-10-21T16:21:09.736-04:00

I can’t figure out what to do. Do I care enough about hanging out with Ted* and Margaret to go to Work City*; do I care enough about going to my friend’s big art festival weekend to ask Ed if I can go to Work City and spend the night, spend the money, and call my sister-in-law or call my work friend to see if I can stay the night? That would mean that I wouldn’t be back until right before

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1161147568335397652006-10-18T00:49:00.000-04:002006-10-21T16:20:17.684-04:00

Almost midnight. An hour earlier, after watching my tivo-ed episode of Heroes, I suggested to S.O. that we retire to the kitchen to recap the day while I cleaned the kitchen. I told hubby about my brilliant theory: DMX's rapping style is actually a positive way of coping with Tourette's. He told me about a client who asked if he could get her a two piece spicy chicken meal with macaroni & cheese

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1161033297702462162006-10-16T16:57:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:01.410-04:00

And so, it's ten till 4pm. I was able to get TWO things done that I didn't get done last Friday. Part of me wonders: should I be ashamed to say that it took me longer to get these two things done because I was watching an episode of The Wire and part of The Island as I was working? Perhaps. The other part of me just wonders why my S.O. can spend a total of about six hours playing Halo2 and not

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1160780869045088962006-10-13T18:55:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:01.348-04:00

This is a story I told A, early on Tuesday morning as I washed her hair. The day before she had cut out a picture of pumpkin so neatly that I honestly thought her teacher had done it. ___________Once upon a time there was a boy named Silver who lived in a small city with his mother and father. His mother was a seamstress (that is what women who sew clothes are called) and his father was a tailor

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1160528485767026002006-10-10T20:55:00.000-04:002006-12-01T13:17:16.524-05:00

When Buddhists talk about trying to empty one's mind, I'm not sure this is what they meant. Over the last month, I have been fortunate to finally finish my chapter (you know, the one I've been working on for a year), to finish my essay for my friend's book, and to hear back from a colleague regarding an article that we started writing--get this--six years ago. Yes, I'm third of four authors, but

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1159903812042547742006-10-03T14:58:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:01.213-04:00

A week and a half ago when I thought I was doing good to be paying a bill on time (if you have to ask why this is good, and have a few hours you'd like to spend procrastinating, please refer to the past year + of posts), even though I was frustrated to be at a department store where there was only one cash register open and I couldn't make a payment with my bankcard because the card reader was

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1159825615536577622006-10-02T17:42:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:01.147-04:00

I talked with a friend yesterday who wondered how I ended up, after two prior academic tenure-track jobs, as “an assistant professor of qualitative research.” She’s not the first to wonder. Doesn’t really matter, she and I agreed—the most important thing is that I like it. I do. And, if you feel that everything happens for a reason—finding a great job 75 miles from your husband’s hometown,

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1159466638672859612006-09-28T14:00:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:01.070-04:00

I wrote this five years ago.A woman divided Continuing my half-assed attemptsAt Buddhism,I declare that in five years I will beA full-time author, a full-time poetAnd a full-time believer in my purposeHere on earth. Tenure? Right, okay, then, in five years I will be(insert all of the above)and I will be tenured as an associateprofessor, which means that I

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1159286797355470192006-09-26T11:47:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.999-04:00

First came MADD, then SADD and now:BADD!It's brilliant, actually. This acronym could stand for "Buddhists Against Drunk Driving" OR "Buddhists with Attention Deficit Disorder" (my personal favorite).The floodgates have opened...This could also stand for:Bitches' Alliance for Defensive DrivingBlondes (united) Against Dumb DudesBeekeepers Association of Dihil, DjiboutiBoston Angelicans for Due

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1158955483357916782006-09-22T15:53:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.935-04:00

This is a landmark; my 101st post. As A. would say, hey mommy, let's celebrate with Christ wispies!Alas, I am t-minus 11 minutes from a faculty meeting. So, perhaps a lukewarm diet coke would be a more feasible celebratory indulgence.This has been the week of medical maladies. S.O. is at the doctor's office as I type, seeing about what's going on with his back. Most likely diagnosis: herniated

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1158527155133767382006-09-17T16:09:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.866-04:00

Miss A. is upstairs napping. S.O. is playing Halo 2. At approximately 3pm, I have put the finishing touches on my "To Do" list for today: Plant Watermelon plants in pot Wash A.'s Hair (yes, Hair does deserve to capitalized) Finish AERA reviews due yesterday Work on Book Essay Of course, there are other things lurking. Stuff in the trunk of the car that needs to go to Salvation Army;

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1157346421929937292006-09-04T01:05:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.796-04:00

I'm working on a post about how I feel to be "diagnosed" as having Attention Deficit Disorder. But I have so many other things on my To Do List that it will have to wait till tomorrow.

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1157346092478081642006-09-04T00:49:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.720-04:00

I have been working on a list of "100 Things about Me…" and so far I've only gotten to twenty: 1. I believe I was a pastry in my previous life.2. Although generally I’m a pacifist, I play Halo2 on the weekend with my S.O. and his dad.3. I believe that the food pyramid should be built around peanut butter, coffee, garlic, donuts and cheese.4. If I was

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1157139800355504842006-09-01T15:42:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.652-04:00

I wish I could describe to you the lunacy that I am witnessing from my third floor office window. It is 2pm. There is a woman, sitting on the lawn in front of my building. She is sitting in a rocking chair, reading a romance novel and sipping tea. On the TV tray next to here is her lunch. But she is not alone—no, for the number of individuals in chairs assembling themselves strategically across

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1155587133538114882006-08-14T16:22:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.591-04:00

I received my social security statement in the mail today. Is it just me, or is reading these things more and more like reading junk mail? Supposedly, if I continue working until I’m 70—okay, that thought alone just gave me the heebie jeebies—my payment from the government “would be about 2,278 a month.”Yeah, right. This is especially bogus given the fine print: “…The law governing benefit

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1155157135662575202006-08-09T16:50:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.526-04:00

This is just a guess…but the astounding amount of naiveté I have concerning the probability of a pleasant outcome of my life activities HAS to be what keeps me from turning belly up and twitching like the monster cockroach I just caught trying to squeeze his way under the weather stripping in my door. Whatever, the reason, I came home from the library yesterday with a two foot high stack of books

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1154627696874327292006-08-03T13:52:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.462-04:00

To be doing something. I fancied myself thinking all sorts of romantic and passé thoughts, like “what does it mean to be a writer? A mother? An entity on this planet, in this space, in this time, looking out of the part of my kitchen window that is not obstructed by an unplugged beige refrigerator with wood trim? I look out at the crusty concrete parking lot in front of my home, at the narrow

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1154532569329089672006-08-02T11:28:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:02:00.397-04:00

I made an important decision last week. After being away for seven years, I went back to see a psychologist. I’d been “threatening” S.O. with it for a while—testing the waters to see what he thought when I was really trying to figure out what I thought about the idea. The final straw? I remember driving S.O. and A. to their work/preschool drop offs. S.O. was talking with me about something and he

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1153450834607828892006-07-20T22:48:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.964-04:00

What is the measure of a good day? For one, I woke up with a plan. A. had finished her last day of swimming class yesterday and I knew that this morning I wouldn't take her to preschool until lunch time, so that I could begin undoing her braids. I can't believe it's been almost two weeks since I've done anything to her hair. Absolutely blissful, and yet it's hard to express how much I miss having

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1153342228363363352006-07-19T16:48:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.898-04:00

I started off this particular morning trying, for the tenth time, to download Adobe software. After sitting mesmerized by the little green blocks that supposedly meant that something magical was happening in my computer, and after downloading all 537,235,321 bytes of data (which took no less than 2.5 hours of starts and restarts), I found after a single mouse click that I had downloaded NOTHING.

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1152725205140693152006-07-12T13:23:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.832-04:00

I picture myself as this romantic, misunderstood heroine, when the reality is that I’m much more the frumpy, slightly overweight, often overbearing, overly critical, perfectionistic dork. I think that’s why sometimes I don’t mind so much being alone, since it’s easier to imagine myself as something other than what I am. My tenth wedding anniversary passed last month, and as I sat down to watch

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1152665668856718222006-07-11T20:48:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.766-04:00

Been thinking about LouLou a lot. I can't wait to make the coffee shop a better representation of her personality...and mine. But until then, I have a need to do some documentation of life events. S.O. called to say that he left his wallet at the conference room where he had a hearing. The conference room is three hours away from home. Without skipping a beat, I called his stepsister to see if

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1151520853557842192006-06-28T14:50:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.705-04:00

Stop the press! Over lunch, the carport (see below) will NOT be empty. S.O. is coming home for lunch. I'm practically giddy. I set out lunch trays and I even brushed my teeth and put on deoderant. Which certainly got me to thinking--especially in light of the recent passing of our 10th anniversary--there are not many times when I think about making myself "cute" anymore. Oh--gotta go. He's here...

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1151517234935162772006-06-28T13:50:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.577-04:00

Must stay sane. Must stay sane. Must stay sane, must stay sane, must stay sane must-stay-fucking-stane. Stane? Fuck!Hope is not lost. I can do these revisions. I can do these revisions. I can get this chapter in. Not to add any more pressure, but yesterday, S.O. sent me a very pleasant email, excerpted below:“You constantly do not act in a way as if you respect me or try to help me in mutual

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1150511468153963012006-06-16T22:15:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.503-04:00

I’ve said this before, I’m sure. I imagine that there are people in this world for whom success and productivity are given like gifts to the heir of a great inheritance. For these people, each professional milestone is received with a slightly lifted nose, regarded with pursed lips, and placed on a shelf as a sort of existential knick knack.And there are the rest of us. Who look up at the end of

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1149565796978320102006-06-05T23:48:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.433-04:00

Just for curiosity's sake...What is your definition of commitment? Holla back.

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1148624123007763602006-05-26T02:10:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.364-04:00

So maybe I get a B- with a gold star for encouragement (see previous post). Just call me Diva Queen of Laundry! But I should get SOME points for staying up and scouring the Horn Book online for books that four year olds might like. Interested? All rated four or five stars on Amazon, check these out:The Crayon Box That Talked, by Shane DerolfBaby Says, by John SteptoeThe Key to My Heart, by Nirah

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1148615159612233842006-05-25T23:45:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.284-04:00

Did you always know you were going to be married to a hair stylist? An entrepreneur? A teacher? I don't know if I imagined I'd be living life as an attorney'’s wife. Among other things. Of course, his profession--or mine--does not matter as much as the kind of people we are, which will undoubtedly influence the kind of person that our daughter has the potential to become. This may not be the

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1148428321601387762006-05-23T19:25:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.209-04:00

You're in a new place and this place is now your home. Do you take a deep breath and keep on steppin'...or do you retreat into your shell like a hermit crab, peeking your eye stalks out every now and then to scope out your surroundings?For the past nine months, I've told myself "this is a transition phase. Soon I will know what it's like for this Midwestern biracial mama to be living in the

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1148328418166770322006-05-22T15:37:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.145-04:00

Meme Question from a few days ago: “Has there ever been time when your body and your mind were at odds with one another? How did you resolve the problem?” Okay, how about EVERY DAY? I have to say, I am obsessed with baked goods. No matter how hard I try, it seems I can’t get this sweet toothed monkey off my back. I’ve just spent an hour trying to negotiate whether I should have a Kellogg’s

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1147972740621404972006-05-18T13:08:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.083-04:00

Three days after the most recent and probably final due date for this chapter. I'm torn between feeling completely inadequate, wondering what the editors think of me (that I'm a flake?) and other things. Like, when a professor retires and they are written about as having "written over 100 article, chapters and essays..." do they think back to each one as their baby...their carefully nurtured and

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1147892542063190072006-05-17T14:36:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:49.017-04:00

I feel so sad that I didn't take the time to write about last week's festivities (A's 4th birthday) until now. This blog would not exist as it does without her. And I'm now at that point where reconstructing the events simply does not have that just-popped-the-top fizz. What's more--it wasn't as if I hadn't been planning this for MONTHS. Since Christmas, I had been squirreling away spare change

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1146631102280822022006-05-03T00:12:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:48.956-04:00

I confess that I'm absolutely fascinated with narratives. The way that the future and the past bleed together in our present understandings of ourselves and the world around us. It's 11:09pm now. Laptop perched on the kitchen counter, I'm emptying the dishwasher and thinking of so many things. How thankful I am that my husband called to tell me that he was sleepy and was going to take a nap in

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1146595855457565182006-05-02T14:50:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:48.898-04:00

So I’m sitting here in my living room. It’s quiet, except for the distant booming buzz of some high school students’ woofer, and the sound of cars intermittently whizzing past. I still can’t get used to working from home. My husband and child are here, yet they are not here. I feel as if S.O. is hunched over the laptop at the rectangular folding table we call a desk. I see where A. has lined up

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1146322538666020422006-04-29T09:46:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:48.837-04:00

Okay. So now that I've gotten the previous post out, I do feel a little better. Moms must have outlets for expression--and we must let the cracks show every now and then. For example, I was reading the latest Oprah on the way back from the grueling DC trip...in it, a woman with breast cancer talked about how she learned to grin and bear it for the sake of her twin boys. Uhm, WHAT? I mean, is it

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1146318206902274062006-04-29T08:47:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:48.777-04:00

A has needs of her own, a startling but true developmental fact. Sigh. She is completely silly and incoherent when I want to "connect" with her. But when I'm needing space to work through my depression about the life I'm eking out...and would rather that no one bother me or notice my slump, she is incredibly observant and ready to eat/get dressed/draw....Case in point. I woke up feeling crappy

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1144266158611281092006-04-05T15:22:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:48.702-04:00

I've been reading all day, interspersed with a lunch spent watching the third episode of this season's Sopranos. Love Tony's pondering of life and the setting--a hospital--in which it happens. Hospitals have always had this "non-space" quality for me. In any case. I have roughly an hour to:Read a 30 page text for class tonightPick up the dry cleaningExercise/Take a showerMail the rent

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1144124429228606602006-04-04T00:17:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:48.639-04:00

It is 11:17 p.m., I am being remarkably productive and it strikes me that coffee and periods (the womanly gift kind) have something in common. The effects of both are very sneaky. Case in point: I was talking with Wonderful Cousin and she relayed a story in which she went off on her S.O., and then proceeded to call him tearfully to apologize, and to say that she didn't know why she was acting

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1143322657649441852006-03-25T16:27:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.579-04:00

And just like that, after a shower, my mood is markedly improved. It's magical. Random Thoughts:1. I think that in my previous life I was a 500 lb pastry chef named Herb. This would explain the love-hate nemesis variety relationship I have with donuts, cakes, pies and the previously mentioned cobbler. I must conquer my pastry weakness if I am to evolve. 2. If Star Trek was real, would the captain

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1143317482557887992006-03-25T15:09:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.518-04:00

Why am I sitting here watching “Stepmom” on TBS’s Movie and a Makeover? Could be lots of things. My S.O. lawyer is hours away in the stix, chasing cases. A is upstairs taking a nap for just an hour. And here is my To Do List…from yesterday: Want To Do Today:LaundryStart working on class stuff (reading, planning, grading)Call about brakes and get estimatesFigure out what to do about car tireOil

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1142357158118843292006-03-14T12:25:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.455-04:00

Is it just me, or do you sometimes find yourself talking to your coffee. (e.g. “Oooh coffee, you so good to me. I love you SO much”). It is just me? Damn.That’s okay coffee—they’re just jealous.

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1142356174719128802006-03-14T12:09:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.389-04:00

Are you an alien?Don’t answer that. The question above was the latest asked by A. of yours truly. I like to think of it as a rhetorical question, really. As in, I know you are an alien, but just how long were you planning on trying to maintain a secret identity? Now that we’re living in the land of catfish, blues and cotton, I fear that everyone has discovered my alien identity. I keep hearing

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1142087263023127292006-03-11T09:27:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.330-04:00

Yesterday, I began my day feeling overwhelmingly crappy, with my 3-almost-4 year old checking me out, after which she thoughtfully said, “Let’s have a happy day today Mommy.” Gotta love her, and gotta hate myself for replying sarcastically at first (under my breath) “yes, let’s.” But after that, I did earnestly ask “Okay, A. How do we have a happy day? I need help.” To which she replied, “welllll

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1141998137740828212006-03-10T08:41:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.272-04:00

To rant or not to rant. Yeah, I’m still on that kick. Especially since (sigh) things have not gotten easier since last week. And so, I’m tempted—soooo tempted—to unleash all of the pent up frustration, sadness, anger and despondency about the current condition of my life. When I’m in this space, the blog seems like a nice little clay pot that I’ve hidden away in the closet. When no one is looking

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1141712348662876272006-03-07T00:54:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.203-04:00

Irony is posting to your blog on the theme of “balance” at midnight when just ten minutes ago you vowed to work on the chapter that was due to your editors, uhm, TODAY. But when there’s something blossoming, you let it bloom. S.O. was going to go to Africa—his boss had a ticket that was originally purchased for his son, but neither he nor his son could use it. (The boss’s son thought he was going

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1141513456227438482006-03-04T17:44:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.137-04:00

Blogging is as captivating to me as fire, and just as dangerous. I've been thinking a lot this weekend about what the next step for me is, in my writing life and the rest of my life as well. Blogging Captivation (not necessarily in this order):1. Developing my writing2. Being involved in the blogging community3. Recording the day-to-day for when I start losing my memory or my daughter shows some

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1141427318688297322006-03-03T18:08:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:48.001-04:00

I know for a fact that there are a lot of us wondering what we’re doing here, in this moment—and how the blah-blah did we get here anyway? Especially after binge reading momblogs, I know there are many of us out here. And through personal experience, of course. This afternoon I was suddenly directionless after an entire week of 5am rush-rush-everybody-up-and-get-clean and let’s get the heck out

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1140889716414501462006-02-25T12:45:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:47.930-04:00

A is watching “The Fast and the Furry” (contemporary Tom and Jerry cinema recently issued on DVD). The price of achieving daily kid violence quota: 3.99 at Movie Gallery. Fulfilling Saturday breakfast request by making a bowl of cheerios and a boiled egg: 4.69 via Kroger. Being able to post to my blog uninterrupted? Priceless.This week has left me with an intermittently twitching left eyelid. I

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1140227788837208562006-02-17T20:52:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:47.862-04:00

It’s amazing how distant I feel from the writing life I’d worked so hard to establish over the past year. I was thinking for a while that I would give it a rest during the push of this semester. But I came back to last year's brainstorming about what I need to maintain my sanity--and writing figures too prominently to give it up. I’ll work hard to write at least once a week during this crazy time

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1138713793596058812006-01-31T08:17:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:47.799-04:00

After a neurotic session in which I started deleting posts for fear of someone I know reading them (besides those who I gave my address to), I have tentatively decided to begin again. This decision was actually fraught with all kinds of moral and ethical dilemmas, most of which related to the issue of how I can post in ways that reveal my personal struggles without putting others down AND while

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1132780189364677792005-11-23T16:07:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.893-04:00

A romantic idea:our own childhood memoriesshould be unfiledand laid on the floor when mother’s guilt waves its rusty sword.See this: this is when I tried to catch a bullfrogin a glistening summer stream with my friend. And this, this is the story I wrote, under step-dad’s deskand after being marinated in lots of storybook fantasies and a little Christianityfor years and years.Here is a small

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1131830064829999762005-11-12T15:17:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.727-04:00

I'm sitting here, watching the Interpreter and my mind wanders. I've been driving around here, in the "Old Downtown" area, with its pre-Emancipation houses and Victorians. I told S.O. when we first got here that I'd rather live in a new house--less maintenance and all that. But I know now that's not true. What is it that prevents me from knowing my own truths for so long. What is it that I love

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1131728405099613672005-11-11T11:59:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.660-04:00

Driving home yesterday in the light and shadows created by the November sun; car air freshener tapping gently against the University parking tag on the rearview mirror. Stainless steel coffee mug, empty, in the cup holder on the dash. Can of diet coke, empty, in the cup holder between the seats. A school bus turned off the highway, lurching awkwardly down a dirt road. I found myself wondering if

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1131570200605712702005-11-09T15:43:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.598-04:00

Calm. There are some people who say "fake it till you make it." But you can't fake serenity. Well, I can't. It's something I have to work hard for. Some times more than others. The difficult times are the times when I know I need to strive for serenity, rather than rising up into the storm and chaos that seems to swirl above me. Okay, this is way too cheezy and dramatic. I have to stop listening

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1130980130624342422005-11-02T20:00:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.397-04:00

Allrighty then. Definitely coming down off of my birthday high. I finally had the opportunity to take back the bra I bought in August that didn't fit. I mean, what else says "Cut loose and treat yourself like the queen you are" like exchanging a bra? I pull out my wallet and promptly realize that I have left my debit card in the ATM machine. Again. Lest you misunderstand my use of "again"--this

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1130967609022807182005-11-02T16:37:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.337-04:00

It’s my birthday and I’ll write if I want to, write if I want to, write if I want to…Forget cake and ice cream, presents and martinis—November 2nd has become THE day on which I live my most complete (admittedly self-centered) self. The day within which I guiltlessly do those things that make me feel happy, vibrant, and alive. I started the day off smelling good (Kudos to S.O. for the Gucci

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1130798030091324342005-10-31T17:12:00.000-05:002006-10-18T01:01:45.193-04:00

I need to go to the grocery store (spray starch, jelly, water, laundry detergent, pantyliners) AND pick up A early so that we can have some dinner and go to the Skating Rink, where her preschool is having Halloween activities. So. Here are my thoughts in no particular order: Why do I feel so guilty for buying shoes and a velvet jacket when the last thing I bought were a pair of shoes that hurt

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1130354199896420112005-10-26T15:08:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:45.133-04:00

I'm not disappearing. Just in a weird space. It's possibly just that time in the semester when things speed up. Or maybe the reality that I have not spent much time working on who I am in this new job. Whatever the case may be, I haven't felt much like writing. I am working on conceptual things, though. Like the concept of time as a gift rather than time as an enemy (marching on and all that). I

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1129404368508687152005-10-15T15:24:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:45.072-04:00

There are those of us who are the epitome of social grace and wit—and then there are the rest of us. You, know, the ones who can count the number of times (on one hand) when we actually said the insightful, droll thing in the moment. More often, this repartee comes to me days later upon completion of a long hot shower or as I’m driving to work re-replaying the scenario in my head. I felt like

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1129292385294707722005-10-14T08:09:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:45.012-04:00

Blogs can be dangerous. Quality is often determined by the blog's ability to speak to a certain subject in a creative, elegant and concise way (insert sentence of self-deprecation here) while speaking to other things through that subject, For example--A blog about walking across the United States can be entertaining and a commentary on fitness, will power, American Life, etc. But besides all you

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1129205885156895502005-10-13T07:53:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:44.958-04:00

Las Vegas. S.O. is leaving today to go on his biennial trip with friends and frat brothers. I told him he could go--if he took A or me. Limp posturing on my part, really. He did pass the bar. Sooo....A and I are on our own till Monday (she says with an evil cackle). More posturing. I mean, what trouble could we possible get into that would be as much fun as betting a hard six while sipping on

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1129004339717501522005-10-11T00:09:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:44.902-04:00

Forgot to tell you. Every Friday the parents at A's preschool are to take their kid's blanket and pillow home, wash them, and bring them back on Monday after the weekend. Before I tell you about this, I have to ask--Have you ever been so proud of yourself that intuitively, you should know something awful is about to happen? I was so proud of myself. I actually ran back to grab the Downy fresh

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1128977487599238022005-10-10T16:39:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:44.845-04:00

I bought my cousin a card yesterday that said "If I worked in a lab I'd yell Eureka every once in a while, just to boost morale." I may not be thinking brilliant thoughts, i.e., our friend here. BUT--I AM writing! I worked on one section of my chapter that is due sometime before I present it in April. And thus begins the ritual of the painfully slow academic writing process of me. I don't care if

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1128959281337217342005-10-10T11:19:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:44.789-04:00

Women who work outside their homes must have a love/hate relationship with academia. One one hand, you're always guilting about not doing more. Case in point? As I type this, my bedside reading is staring at me (Bakhtin's Speech Genres and Other Late Essays) and I'm trying to figure out how it is going to be possible to clean the house, do laundry, go grocery shopping, exercise, write out bills,

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10395481.post-1128777964258415872005-10-08T09:16:00.000-04:002006-10-18T01:01:44.728-04:00

What kind of relationship am I supposed to have with my in-laws? Don't answer that. Keep in mind that EVERYONE and their mama is an in-law somehow or another in the South ("she's my auntie's third cousin on her mother's side"). I had hoped to fly under the radar, or maybe not even fly at all when it came to the politics of being "the up-and-coming Black laywer's professor-wife" here. It's

F.E. Wrighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18294655593852633390noreply@blogger.com1