This past September was one of the worst months of my life. As I’ve detailed before, various circumstances led to me having to move to Platteville the day before I started teaching here, and as if that big move wasn’t enough to exhaust me on its own, I had to walk across campus repeatedly the next day, before I could even teach my first class, just to handle various tasks that I couldn’t get to earlier, leaving me a worn-out mess as I started that…
Grimes Unveils AI Software to Allow Artists to Replicate Her Voice (Complex via yahoo.com) The process by which I went from living in Mom’s house in Toledo at the start of 2017, two months after her passing, to living with Hedder in an apartment in Colorado Springs by the end of the year, is long and bitter, and I probably won’t be able to share that story with anyone but the closest of my friends until several more people pass away. Suffice it to say…
Unwieldy bill would destroy higher education in Ohio | American Historical Association (news.yahoo.com)“‘Don’t just publish another paper. Let’s do something,’ says scholar-advocate Cindy Blackstock (universityaffairs.ca) As spring passes, a handful of elementary schools across America will still devote their last day to outdoor activities for their students, to help them blow off the stress of the past academic year. (Far fewer schools are doing this than was the case when I was younger, with the push to pass all those standardized tests and all that…
Before this year, the last time I sprained my knee was back at the end of 2001, when my family and I were still living in a hotel room following the house fire earlier that spring. I was walking down some stairs, my left foot slipped out from under me, and in an attempt to catch myself, I somehow landed with my left leg underneath me. It was probably a miracle that I didn’t break something, but my knee was basically shot. As luck would…
[This blog contains descriptions of child abuse.] One of the worst beatings my father ever gave me came in response to me asserting a truth. I was eleven or twelve years old, and I don’t remember how we got into an argument, but I remember it having something to do with me not being able to make something stand upright. My father was yelling at me because he thought I could never get this thing to stand upright, even though I had done so before…