Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Check It Out

As a project for graduate school,

I've started a new blog. Goal? To get the non-academic reader interested in the classics.

I might be back once in a while,

But not as long as I'm writing papers like, "Madly Re-Inventing the Heroine: The Reconciliation of the Virgin and the Vixen in 19th Century Literature."

Come see me once in a while: themustystudy.com

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Playing with Fire

I have been writing and writing and writing and writing.

And It hasn't been here on blogger! I'm currently enjoying midterm "break" by writing a paper. For some crazy reason, I decided to discuss Promethean themes in Romantic literature. At this point (and this is subject to change), my paper is titled:

Playing with Promethean Fire: The Creative Manipulation of Archetype in Romantic Literature.

So, yes. . . between burying myself in Critical Literary Theory, reading 300-500 pages per week, and writing and writing and writing. . . .

I'm not writing here. Maybe I will this summer?

Monday, March 29, 2010

The Questions That Plague Me

Who knew that writing a bio for your fellow-students at graduate school would be so exhausting?

We're all "distance learners," so in my opinion, this first introduction is rather important. I mean, I've got this fake persona to create, and it's so hard finding the balance between "outlandish" and "too humble."

Of course, I'm kidding.

But really. How "real" should I be? I want to write like I write, but would that be right? On the right, there is objective truth, but then what is left on the left? I fear there is only frilly fluff.

And these are all "academia" people and all that jazz.

...Not interested in being boring.

But no one probably cares anyway.

I was thinking about words like "wanderlust," "whithersoever," and "whilst," and quite frankly, those words seem appropriate to me. Should I let my true self shine through? Or should I hide behind a facade of boring normalcy.

These questions plague me.

I wonder what it will be like to do real work?

Friday, March 19, 2010


"Well, I went and done it, Pa."

"What'd you did, Ma?"

"I got some a that 'OCD in a Bottle,' and I done cleaned out every drawer and closet in this here house of our'n."

"Well, SWEET TOENAILS! You done did it! Shor'nuf! Lets eat off of the tile in that-thar kitchen."

"Well, aint that what it's fer, anywayz?"

Friday, March 5, 2010

Artsy Susies Share a Common Thread

They thrive in brokenness.

I've often wondered why I don't feel the need to have thinCheck Spellinggs hoity-toity and organized. I don't understand "clean house OCD." I mean, I enjoy having things in order; I just prefer taking my house from a state of chaos to a state of perfection. Trying to live in a constant state of wonderfulness is not something that makes me tick. I wish it did. I want some hoity-toity juice in my lemonade, but I can't buy any at the health-food store.

I'll admit it. I like the ups and downs of life.

I visited my grandma at the nursing home tonight. As we walked closely by an impressionistic painting, we took note of the use of a single LINE to draw the legs on the people walking in the rain. I owe much of my "slap it together and call it good" tendencies to Nanny. Some people would call this a curse, but I'm blessed by her gift. She's a painter. I've painted a thing or two. We both prefer our pictures to be looked at from afar.

I guess we're both impressionists.

But maybe "Artsy Susies" arent so bad. We all could take a step back now and then. Sometimes our lives don't seem to make a lot of sense. They're jumbled and confusing and lack focus. Looking at things right in front of our eyes sometimes gets us down. We're broken due to many experiences that we've been blessed to endure.

But with those broken and confusing lines, blotches, and smudgy areas, God goes and "pulls a Monet." He's gifted like that. I can't see it, but I know it's there.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


My brain is about to explode with information.

I knew that teaching Logic was going to be difficult for me this year. But oh, how I love it!! I love it when I'm working out the problems at home around my dining room table. When I'm learning something new, I'm a quiet processor. Give me a library and some Pandora Radio tuned to "Piano Solo, Romantic Period," and I can solve all sorts of difficult dilemmas. Give me a classroom with buzzing and sometimes sarcastic eighth graders, and. . . WELL. . . .

But John Milton Gregory clearly tells us that a teacher must have a THOROUGH knowledge of the subject matter being taught in order to transfer information. This is when my brain starts the countdown to explosion. It's not my job to merely understand; it's my job to excel.

Introductory logic was a piece of cake. Intermediate logic is AMAZING! APPLICABLE! FASCINATING! And it makes my brain hurt.


Monday, January 25, 2010

Graduate School

Fafsa Paperwork-check
Sanity- nowhere to be found

If this happens, I'm planning on purchasing a few hippie skirts.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Saturday Night: Much Different than 1988. . .

It's Saturday night.

As a teenager, it was my obligation to find something fun and exciting to do on Saturday. If I didn't find that opportunity, then I felt deprived or cheated. It seemed like having a good time was a basic human right.

And boy, do I like having a good time.

This week, while snuggling into bed, my teenager insisted that I was ". . . having fun playing with [my] iPhone." To which I vehemently snapped with my eyes, my tone, and clear words: "I'm not having fun, I'm READING THE BIBLE!" My kids thought this response was HILARIOUS, and haven't let me forget it.

Please refrain from judgemental thoughts or comments.

Just like my students don't always appreciate my assignments (but see personal growth nonetheless), so I don't always appreciate the spiritual disciplines (but see personal growth nonetheless).

So on this Saturday Night, I'll be doing some exciting things:
  1. I'll be writing the best Macbeth Test ever written. My cousin Charissa and I happened to be in the same Senior Literature class. We've had years of enjoyment screaming "SEEYYTONNNN!!!!" for no apparent reason. I'm happy to announce that my eighth graders LOVED Macbeth. They're amazing.
  2. Time to study for Intermediate Logic! (EEEEKKK!!!)
  3. Revise and tweek a grant proposal for a summer trip to Oxford. (I'll be shocked if we get this one.)
  4. Should I push that "send" button for my Master's application? We'll see if that happens or not.
  5. The kids are vegging out, watching YouTube "American Idol" clips, playing on their iPods, and watching movies on our LED projector. "Oh, I love technology!"

Saturday night: Much different than 1988. . .

Friday, January 8, 2010

My Mind Has Turned to Mush

Every time I sit down to write a blog post, I end up deleting EVERY. . . SINGLE. . . WORD! I guess it's because I don't want to be a "Negative Nellie."

In fact, I would almost categorize my emotional state these days as "ghastly and horrible." And really, who wants to read all about that? (In fact, I'm afraid my "inner Goth" is coming out. Have you seen me lately? The black eyeliner keeps growing in thickness.)

So, for no particular reason (and with no cohesive topical unity to the above frightful introduction), I'll entertain you with a recap of today thus far:

"My Mind Has Turned to Mush"

- -An exciting dramatic interpretation of a perfectly fine day through the eyes of a melancholy soul who has nothing to complain about but feels like being grumpy anyway.- -

(To the tune of "The Adams Family")

I got out of bed too late.
My kids, dry cereal they ate,
In school to parti-ci-pate,
My mind has turned to mush.

Frankenstein, Don Quixote,
Macbeth and Logic Whoop-ee;
Plato and Wharton you see,
My mind has turned to mush.

Came home and went to Wal-Mart,
(That really wasn't too smart).
I filled the whole dang push cart,
My mind has turned to mush.

I want to get my Master's,
(Will that just prompt disasters?)
I wish I could run faster.
My mind has turned to mush.

(Boo-Hiss, COUGH!, Tomatoes! Boo!) I can only offer my apologies for my inability to sing it for you in person. (Oh ya, and for the poem itself.) But you can do it at home by yourself. All that is required is a bunch of water-based mascara, a truckload of tears, and a good healthy drama-queen attitude.

Never mind. I guess I'm happy after all.

False Alarm! False Alarm! Don't call for the straight jacket!