Latest Event Updates

Mother’s Day 2026

Posted on

I stopped blogging for a good long while because I’ve been doing other sorts of writing, and I tend to have less motivation to do other sorts of writing if blogging cures my writing itch.

But today I want to say something briefly, so I’m breaking my hiatus for a heartbeat.

When I was a young mom and pulled in a lot of directions, at a time in my life when I based a lot of my self-worth on my productivity in all parts of my life and had a hard time feeling okay about building in time to relax or be on my own or just take care of myself–

and being the kind of person that I know presented as a “good mom,” whatever that might mean–

I regularly would point out the challenges and exhaustion and limits of patience that characterized motherhood for me. People would say, “Don’t you just love being a mom?” and I would never answer with a simple “yes.” For me, the answer was always, “Yes, and also the best Mother’s Day I ever had was when my ex-husband took my kids out for the day and left me at home to garden and relax on my own, and I could think of no better treat for me to enjoy.”

I was trying to keep it real, not idealize motherhood as the complete source of fulfillment for me.

I say all that to preface what’s coming, which is a complete idealization of being a mom, as if the amazingly wonderful feelings I have about my kids always align with our behaviors and experiences with one another. Which, of course, only happens in fleeting moments.

So here it goes. As a mom of two young adults who are extraordinary human beings, I’ve recently read two depictions of maternal feelings that resonate an incredible amount with me.

  1. Taylor Jenkins Reid, Atmosphere, an aunt speaking to her niece when she has decided to bring her into her life as her primary caregiver:

    Do you understand that, to someone, you are everything that matters on this entire planet?

    I will love you until the day I die, do you hear me? There is nothing you could do or say or think or feel that would change that. I am yours to fall back on, forever. 

    You make my life worth something. And I can promise you with my entire body that you will never be alone. Every day, you can wake up and go to bed knowing there is someone whose heart is bursting, barely able to contain how much they love you.

    Yes. Yup. That’s it. That’s accurate. I fail every day, of course, but it’s still true.
  2. Catherine Newman, Sandwich, a mom speaking about both her children and then about her daughter (but it’s also true of my son, for the record, and they’re probably both extremely grateful that we are not marsupials):

    How are these adults my children? And why are they so beautiful?

    They are so grown! So young. Mine and not mine, as ever they have been.

    I’m so in love with her that if we were marsupials, I’d be stuffing her grown self back into my pouch.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the people who have been in the mothering role or who have benefited from knowing someone loves them in these unconditional ways. And if you fit neither of these categories, may you still experience that kind of love and recognize it as such, even when it shows up in our imperfect human forms.

vase of flowers

what I did, 2024 edition

Posted on

I mostly stopped blogging awhile ago because I’ve been working on a writing project that uses my blog energy. But here and there I go back and read old blog posts.

I recently read my most recent blog entry, “what up next” from April 2024. In April, I was trying to figure out hobbies and activities to keep me sane and fulfilled outside of work hours, and I listed several I was considering:

  • water colors and other fun painting
  • pickle ball
  • horseback riding
  • a book club
  • a project that would give my outings a focus
  • boxing
  • hiking
  • kayaking

Here is what I actually have done since then.

Water Colors

I completed five water color paintings that I’ve given to people—3 of cats and 2 of dogs. Four of the paintings took time and care and the fifth one was a quick fun thing. I tried my hand at painting humans and it resulted in a lot of laughter. I’ll try again eventually!

New Book Club

I started a local book club. We had a planning meeting and read two books so far. Our third book discussion is in a couple weeks. It’s been great getting to know a group of women through reading and talking. We’ll see where it takes us in 2025.

Paddle boarding

I went paddle boarding many times. I went about five times alone, about five times with my friend Carol, a few times with my friend Matt, and once with the Lehigh Valley Women of Adventure group. I mostly paddled on Leaser Lake, I went to Lackawanna Lake a few times, and I also paddled a few other places.

It was a new skill for me. I’m still not a pro by any stretch of the imagination, but I love it. I think my favorite time was when Matt and I got caught in torrential rains. It was wild and funny and fun.

Tap dancing

I began tap dancing in September. I never took ballet and tap during my childhood years when many people do that sort of thing, but when my friend Dina asked if I wanted to try out a tap class, I immediately said YES. We met once a week, and I missed a couple classes because of work obligations, but I took a video of two of the dances we were learning so I could practice at home.

We had a recital in early December. The whole thing was a blast. I think I’m the youngest person in these classes, and I think I was also the newest person, but no one cares about age or talent. We are having fun as we learn. Some of the dancers are absolutely incredible.

Extra! Social highlights

In addition to the hobbies I engaged in since April, I did so many fun things in 2024. Here are some of them.

  • played a lot of trivia and music bingo with Carol, Kim, and company
  • joined the Mug Club at Rising River Brewing
  • danced to a lot of live music, especially the AudioFiles, but also the Amish Outlaws, Rubix Kube, Igor & the Red Elvises, Kinda Sorta Maybe, Frog Holler, and more
  • went on a lot of dates; most of them were enjoyable
  • went on a cruise with my good friend Jill ❤
  • held Lindsey’s new baby Ada and played with my goddaughter Ellie whenever I could (and I also got to be the Easter Bunny!)
  • visited Ann Marie in NJ where we kayaked and chilled and laughed
  • had a vacation in New England with my young adult children and their significant others
  • went to Oktoberfest wearing a dirndl, participated in Mrs. Roper’s Romp with Heather, participated in the Thrill the World dance for my fifth time, and found a few more occasions to wear costumes of one kind or another
  • visited with Duquesne friends in Maine, in Pittsburgh, in Brooklyn, and in my home!
  • went to the Mary Cassatt exhibit at the Philadelphia Art Museum with Callie
  • did two zip line / high ropes courses

Extra! Professional highlights

I also accomplished some things in my professional life. Here are three of those.

  • published an academic monograph, Slut Narratives in Popular Culture, Routledge
  • created a professional website for speaking events, workshop facilitation, and so forth
  • completed year two of deaning in the College of Liberal Arts & Sciences; some of this work can be named and quantified, and some of this work is tough to describe because it involves building relationships. I show up every day with integrity and a growth mindset, doing work I am proud of

****

I don’t have plans in place for tonight. I might ring in the new year alone at home. I might end up being social. But I do have plans for 2025. It’s to make it even half as good as 2024.

PS In the spirit of keeping it real, 2024 also involved immense heartache, my first time getting Covid and struggling to get back to a healthy version of myself, angst and anxiety and uncertainty, intermittent loneliness, a failure to make working out a regular part of my daily routine, and a lot of tears.

We never know what other people are going through. Sharing the good stuff publicly is not just performative. It’s a way of reminding ourselves of all we can be grateful for, even in times of intense grief and pain, even in years that may be undeniably sucky.

If that was how 2024 felt for you—undeniably sucky—may 2025 be a fresh start. xo

what up next

Posted on

I have just 20 minutes before I hit the road to meet my favorite daughter for lunch in Scranton. I danced like a teenager last night and made a delicious breakfast and journaled this morning. And now I want to write this blog post, this moment of decision making, as I consider what kind of activity—or activities—I want to try out to give a bit of focus to my time outside of work.

Ready? Here’s the list.

  1. Watercolors and other fun painting. I keep watching this one TikTok painter who makes painting look super fun and therapeutic and easy, and it super duper appeals to me. She seems more into the process than the product, though a lot of the end results are pretty awesome. I’m not necessarily artistic, but I enjoy doing artsy stuff as long as I’m not judgy, and I think it’s really healthy for me to spend time on things that don’t come easily and to accept imperfections.

    This one would feel good, I’d have something to show for it, and I already own almost all of the stuff I would need to do it, so it’s free and easy to do whenever I want.
  2. Pickle ball. I’ve been hearing a lot about this activity, and I like that it would be social and get me outside and keep me active. I suck at sports in general, so it’s kinda like the painting in that it would challenge me to get into something and accept that it’s good to do, whether I’m good at it or not.

    It’s a higher bar to get started. I would need to figure out where, with whom, how. I would need to buy equipment, learn how to play. I’m interested. But maybe I’ll give it a minute before I fully go for it.
  3. Horseback riding. There are stables near me that offer lessons. This one is fully outside my comfort zone, and that’s what appeals to me—I think I will feel really good about stretching myself and learning something completely new.

    I think this is kinda like the pickle ball situation. I think there’s a very good chance that I’ll get into it, but I might give it a minute to work up the energy. It also requires a monetary investment.
  4. A book club. I already have a book club in NEPA, and I went to a couple library nights but I wasn’t a huge fan of the dynamic. But the problem here is that I don’t know many people outside of my work place. I could put a call for interested participants in a Facebook or Nextdoor community group, but there’s a huge chance I’d end up in a book club with people I’m not super excited to interact with.

    Sorry if I sound picky about people here. I love almost everyone if I’m having a lighthearted conversation during happy hour, and I 100% love those times and get a kick out of people. But my current book club has such a wonderful dynamic of mutual support that I have high standards.

    Maybe I’ll figure something out here. But it will probably take a minute to figure it out.
  5. A project that would give my outings a focus. I’ve been thinking that I could do a series of posts on fun places to visit, local hidden treasures, walking trails, breweries and wineries, etc. I’m not sure. If I’m going to do something like that, I need to be all in for it to work. I’ll let it simmer on the back burner and see if it’s ever ready for moving forward.
  6. Boxing. There’s a boxing gym not too far away that has classes. It really appeals to me—anything that builds up strength and makes me feel like a badass tends to appeal to me. And I really prefer classes to just working out on my own. The gym is a bit pricey. And it’s kinda inconvenient—I’d have to be really good at motivating myself to get there.

    A real possibility. I think either boxing or pickle ball or horse back riding will end up being next, after (or overlapping with) painting.

Or maybe just lots of hiking and kayaking if I can figure out how to transport my kayak this summer now that I have a smaller car.

My time is up. Time to head to NEPA. And I feel excited about the choices I have and the life I’m living. ❤

journal that says Keep Looking Forward with pen, laptop, and coffee mug

disturbed

Posted on Updated on

I live in metaphors

BEEP BEEP BEEP 
at maybe 5am
waking me 
the three smoke detectors upstairs screaming to one another 
while I lay burrowed in blankets after too little sleep 
from one thing or another having gone wrong the night before 

The screaming ceases almost as soon as it begins
I close my eyes  
think maybe that was a fluke 
realize in two shakes of a lamb’s tail that 
it’s more than a fluke because 
they speak again
but then 

blessed silence and 

I snuggle back in ahhhh 
and minutes until the next screaming bursts 
two three do I need to get up then 
silence 

and hope and warmth nestled in and 
again THE SCREAMING 
THE SCREAMING SO LOUD 
do I need to get up will it 
stop will it just 
stop do I have to 
move and 
silence 

there’s no fire, 
no one affected by the noise but me. 
but I eventually give in to the situation,
venture from warm bed into cold house 
pull a chair from one bedroom 
into another bedroom 
climb up pull the battery 
out put it in again because 
it’s a new battery so that’s 
not the problem and grab 
another chair for the hallway 
detector do the same and 
eventually crawl back 
into bed where I 

think about my tendency to 
operate on hope for 
a good long while when 
I’m comfortable and would really 
prefer not to give up that place of 
comfort when no one else is 
affected by the intermittent 
SCREAMING that is not 
comfortable at all. 

How long does it take for me to believe
a problem will not go away on its own 

to get up
to deal with it
to make the screaming stop 

And how long will it take
for me to feel good again
when this morning feels terrible 

Even though I slept well from 11:30 to 5:00
and overall
have an amazingly wonderful life 
How long 

***

I wrote that yesterday morning. I was SO cranky yesterday morning! But I felt better by the time lunch came around. So that’s how long it took to feel good again! lol

When I wrote the poem I was thinking about how I have a great capacity for ignoring the things that are problematic in dating relationships because it’s so inconvenient. It’s much easier to let them blow over and enjoy the good parts of the relationship, and I tend to operate too much on hope, as in, “I hope things will eventually get better” or “I hope the other person follows through on what we’ve talked about.” I’m trying to retrain my brain to pay attention to what’s actually happening instead of ignoring issues and relying on hope.

And then as I wrote it, or maybe when I was done, I was also thinking that the metaphor can be for all kinds of things that any of us can ignore because they’re inconvenient to think about. Maybe signs that we need to visit the doctor or make better choices for our physical health, or signs of climate change, or repeated instances of injustice. How long until we rouse ourselves to action? and, when we act, how long will we be in a state of discomfort before feeling good again?

Last note. I first wrote the poem on my phone yesterday morning, and then I removed all the line breaks before copying and pasting here last night (because copying and pasting into the WordPress format with line breaks is a Bad Idea–everything gets wonky). I added in the line breaks last night and fell asleep. This morning I adjusted a little but don’t feel wholly satisfied with the writing. It’s feeling pretty drafty. But I’m sharing anyway. Blog posts are for fairly informal writing, yes? Yes.

Oh! I lied. One more note. In a recent office conversation, my team was talking about the roles each of us plays. One person noted that when I see problems, I head into them instead of avoiding them. Sometimes my problem-solving ways are inappropriate, so I’m working on listening to people vent without trying to problem solve, and I’m also not trying to solve problems that are not mine to solve. But in general, my tendency to address problems is a good thing. And I tend to be good at stuff in the workplace before I’m good at it in my personal life. I won’t put up with screaming smoke detectors going off at work because that’s a terrible work environment for everyone.

I gotta value myself in similar ways, yes? Yes.

crocus

Posted on

gray rainy day
meetings pull me from my screen from my clamoring inbox
move me from one indoor office space
outdoors
across concrete walkways and down chained sidewalks
head bent beneath my hood
beneath my exclamatory blue umbrella smattered with brilliant owls
to a conference room space
inside the administration building

horrid it all sounds horrid except that umbrella
horrid gray rainy meetings screen clamoring inbox indoor office concrete chained bent conference administration building horrid meetings meetings screen inbox meetings administration ugh ugh horrid ugh meetings screen horrid ugh

EXCEPT IT’S NOT

the balmy air

the connections the help the hard things with a gentle note the rallying the laughter the dark times the dark times together the stretching reaching the connecting the connecting
the bouncing between doorways in the sweet suite
the navigating

the firm path the guidelines the care of one another the crosswalks the clusters

THE CROCUSES

building as verb
meeting as verb
people around a table

a gray rainy day
pathways
bursts of yellow

something blooms

we take note
we return to the growing business at hand

yellow crocuses on dark mulch
it’s good to be golden




bucket list of things I’ve already checked off #2

Posted on Updated on

For context, check out my earlier blog post, “bucket list of things I’ve already checked off.”

  1. Learn the loving kindness meditation.
  2. Meet a famous author, or several.
  3. Meet an author you admire who isn’t famous.
  4. Memorize Where the Wild Things Are because you’ve read it so many times with a three-year old.
  5. Ugly cry in public.
  6. Wake up to a cat walking across your back.
  7. Sing holiday songs on tv with your sixth-grade class.
  8. Drop paper copters in a stairwell with your colleagues near the end of the work day; have an eight-year with you to run down and pick up the copters.
  9. Eat a marigold.
  10. Speak your broken high school French to a Montreal native who knows almost no English.
  11. Pay the bill for the car behind you at the drive through.
  12. Stick up for someone being picked on.
  13. Be a clown at a kid’s birthday party.
  14. Make a cake that is way beyond your skill level. Like maybe an awesome castle with towers and a drawbridge.
  15. Make mud pies. Maybe try a nibble.
  16. Kiss the Blarney Stone.
  17. Explore the Nicholson Bridge, the Archbald Pothole, Concrete City, Summit Pointe, the Steel Stacks, and every other random place you can find.
  18. Swim in Walden Pond.
  19. Get a deep tissue massage.
  20. Tighten the screws on the chairs while staying with your dad while he recovers from back surgery. Remember when your mom chose the dining room set. Remember how much she loved it, what a big deal it was for her to choose furniture she loved.
  21. Sing karaoke. Even if you’re kinda embarrassed for anyone to hear you sing.
  22. Do a stratosphere ride in Vegas.
  23. Sit with your two kids one evening after school and visit a website with fart sounds and laugh and laugh and laugh until you cry.
  24. Play with a VR headset.
  25. Do workouts that make your body sore and strong.
  26. Decide you’ll train for a stein-holding contest.
  27. Notice the gifts of the people who surround you. Tell them what you notice. Feel lucky to be surrounded by so many awesome people.
  28. Have a pity party. Make fun of yourself for having a pity party. Close that pity party down, clean it up, move on.
  29. Play Family Feud with strangers-turned-friends at Rising River Brewery. Get a kick out of affirming, “Good answer! Good answer!” while applauding your team.
  30. Laugh at the funny parts of the dark days.
  31. Cry at the sad or frustrating or lonely parts of the dark days.
  32. Feel good about buying a new-ish car even if you’re fairly certain you were somehow supposed to dicker to drive the price down more than you did.
  33. Cry with your friends in a coffee shop.
  34. Give someone more chances if they’re trying. Cut them loose or otherwise hold them accountable if they’re not.
  35. Stop talking when the other person has stopped listening.
  36. Fly a kite.
  37. Get obsessed with diamond painting.
  38. Get a kick out of your adult children playing Star Wars Monopoly and talking about the game as if they are economic titans of the world.
  39. Miss your exit because you got really into the music playing.
  40. Miss your turn because you got really into a phone conversation during your drive.
  41. Get super excited about delicious food every single time you experience it.

I started writing another blog post tonight, the eve of my 55th birthday. But something drew me back to this piece that I started ages ago. I added on to the list, and I think it’s really cool to see all the things I’ve done with my life already.

My reality is that I’m super angsty, regularly crying, feeling lonely. AND my reality is that I’m truly happy, living an incredibly good life, surrounded by people I care about who also care about me.

My bucket lists of things I’ve already checked off help me emphasize the good stuff, the things I’m grateful for. There’s more than enough! It’s okay that I’m not happy 100% of the time. I’m just a human being, going along, trying to figure things out, and somehow filling bucket-list-goals without even realizing that’s what I’m doing.

If you’ve never written a bucket list of things you’ve already checked off, I highly recommend it. Generating these lists makes me a bit more alive as I see my days with a fresh, hopeful, and grateful perspective.

the Dean Moriarty of bartenders

Posted on Updated on

I love love love the one-sentence frantic passage from Jack Kerouac’s On the Road in which he describes Dean Moriarty parking cars:

The most fantastic parking-lot attendant in the world, he can back a car at forty miles an hour into a tight squeeze and stop at the wall, jump out, race among fenders, leap into another car, circle it fifty miles an hour in a narrow space, back swiftly into a sight spot, hump, snap the car with the emergency so that you see it bounce as he flies out; then clear to the ticket shack, sprinting like a track star, hand a ticket, leap into a newly arrived car before the owner’s half out, leap literally under him as he steps out, start the car with the door flapping, and roar off to the next available spot, arc, pop in, brake, out, run; working like that without pause eight hours a night, evening rush hours and after-theater rush hours, in greasy white pants with a frayed fur-lined jacket and beat shoes that flap. 

-Jack Kerouac, On the Road

And I can’t help but think of that passage as I sit and have a random Saturday evening dinner at the bar at Judy’s on Cherry in Reading, Pennsylvania.

It’s the economy of movement, the expert motions, the choreography that is improvised but that looks rehearsed in its flawlessness, the artistry of the drinks she places in the servers’ window and before the patrons sitting nearby me at the bar.

When I receive my bill and have the opportunity to leave a tip, I am not tipping just for the excellent service.

And let me be clear for a moment and comment on the excellent service. Let me mention that the bartender was slammed from the moment I arrived, and she followed through on not just taking care of me but on taking care of me with friendliness. Not slow southern friendliness but brisk economic friendliness so she was never slowing down in her extensive and multi-layered to-do list of tasks.

And then there was the moment when I tried to be helpful in handing her my empty salad plate and tipped my drink over. Except it didn’t topple because she caught it. I’m not lying! She literally caught my drink mid-topple. So when I tell you the service was right on, I’m actually understating it. And then she refilled my drink to make up for the little bit of the fancy beverage that had splashed out (and all over her hands)—a refill that was completely unnecessary but that was completely high-class and gracious.

But back to my point.

Tipping this bartender was not simply a thank you for excellent service. It was a thank you for her expertise, her pageantry, the show she performed and the consumable artwork she produced with each deft pivot of the body, twist of the wrist, stretch of the arm, slice of the knife, and refill of the glass.

There’s something about people who perform their work well. We all know it when we see it. It’s an act of beauty. I’m no Jack Kerouac. But that bartender I saw? She’s a Dean Moriarty, and then some.

a glimpse of the bartender’s stage

reading The Unwritten Rules of Managing Up by Dana Brownlee

Posted on Updated on

One of my colleagues / friends / mentors / confidants recommended this book to me. Steve Lem is serving as Interim Associate Dean during my first year as Dean in a College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. Steve and I don’t just do our work; we also have meta conversations about leadership strategies, interpersonal dynamics, and how we can help our entire university to work more effectively in the ways we approach our own roles and help our office to function better. So when he talked about this book, I put it on my list of things to check out.

Steve said some of the terms in the book might seem a little cutesy, but the ideas are solid. I’m a fan of not taking ourselves too seriously, so I’m cool with the cutesy.

Today is a snow day and I decided to use the morning to go through my inbox (which occasionally is a hydra with multiplying heads; I used “schedule send” so almost everything I’m sending this morning will go out at 4:00pm so I won’t get more emails back while I’m in the midst of cleaning that inbox out….thank you to whoever taught me that trick….).

I’ll be using the afternoon to work on my own research. I’m in a heavy-work period right now so I will do either research or drafting a promotion letter this evening. Don’t worry. I’ll also take breaks, do a workout, goof off. It’s Friday, after all, and a snow day. I will find ways to play!

In the midst of all that, as I have a food break (pancakes with strawberries! yum!), I opened the digital version of Brownlee’s book. It looks like it will be helpful for me to think about my own leadership style, and I think my end goals are to be a) thoughtful about ways I might want to adjust my style and b) more explicit about my style with others. I think identifying my leadership style more clearly, in practical ways, may be especially helpful for my chairs and for my immediate dean’s office team.

I won’t finish the book right now. But I’ll chip away over time.

***

Take away 1–the book has advice to offer me not just as a leader but also as a subordinate

My immediate boss is the provost, and I’m lucky because she’s a strong and effective leader. The book offers advice for working well with strong leaders, and it all seems smart. The original is way better than my paraphrases, but I’m not going to extensively quote, so check out the actual book if you want better quality.

  • build trust relationships
  • be easy, not a pain
  • do super good work in whatever role you occupy
  • figure out how your boss likes to communicate and adapt to that
  • be honest and brave when talking to your boss, but do so in the right time and place and using appropriate rhetoric
  • anticipate and prevent problems
  • do stuff to lessen the boss’s workload…and take on jobs that no one else wants or is willing to do

Take away 2–framing and communication are everything

Any kind of “us vs. them” framework in the workplace leads to poorer relations and less effectiveness. I say that regularly in my current leadership role. I get frustrated when colleagues approach challenges as if we are playing a game of Risk, building empires and toppling opponents. I’m more of a fan of identifying a challenge and seeing ourselves as partners on addressing the challenge. That doesn’t mean we will agree or see things in exactly the same way, but it does mean we will listen to one another and do the best we can to move forward in smart ways, even if not everyone’s needs/wants are 100% met.

Brownlee also writes about how easily unspoken expectations can result in problems. If we want certain behaviors, we need to make expectations explicit, not hope people can figure them out on their own. I think I am usually good about this one, but I sometimes assume others are on the same page or assume that I understand others’ expectations. Occasional miscommunications might be unavoidable, but I think the idea is to minimize these unnecessary conflicts as much as we can.

Take away 3–the “difficult boss” behaviors I am most prone to

Okay, I’m going to start off by actually identifying the “difficult boss” behaviors that I am not likely to exhibit. It’s so easy to be hard on ourselves, to see all our areas for growth without noticing the things we excel at.

I am not: overly temperamental; sneaky; a proponent of busy work; resistant to change; self-absorbed; competitive with others (except when I play board games!); chaos-inducing; negative or pessimistic; full of unreasonable expectations of others; a shit-stirrer; incompetent; a micro manager; or disempowering.

Guess what? I went down the whole list and decided I don’t fit any of the “difficult boss” types! Hahahaha. But now I’m gonna give all of us a dose of reality.

I do have areas for growth I am super aware of, and I think they fit in Brownlee’s “difficult” categories in ways that might not always be obvious:

  • I sometimes overwork.

    I do this behavior less than in the past, but “overwork” can also mean that I’m doing others’ work for them, not delegating enough, not communicating enough with others about what needs to be done, not organizing responsibilities among my team members in a clear and explicit way, and so forth. I don’t completely suck, but this one is an ongoing area of growth, for sure.
  • I am still learning how things work at my university.

    I don’t think I’m “incompetent” at all, but I am regularly aware of policies, procedures, past practices, and so on that I don’t know as well as I would like. I also am constantly learning more about the thirteen departments and thirty+ major programs my college, and I don’t know all the faculty and staff in my college, which makes me sad, but I don’t know how to correct that one.
  • I sometimes struggle with my emotional attachment to my work.

    My work role is part of my identity. Education matters deeply to me, and I care (too much at times) about what others think of me, so sometimes I have trouble shutting off the spiraling voices in my head. I also internalize others’ emotions in ways that can be a form of self-sabotage instead of a tool that can help me be a thoughtful responder to people and situations. But I am way better at focusing on doing good work and letting things go than I used to be. So yay for gradual improvement!

    My interim associate dean has been super helpful in his feedback to various situations that have arisen (he has regularly said after a challenging meeting, “That went great! We are doing things we have never done, and that conversation really moved things forward”; that commentary helps my framing a lot), and he also models a separation between his work life and his emotional state. That’s one of the ways he’s been a mentor to me!

    I also appreciate the Brene Brown approach: Pay attention to what a select few people think of me, the very few people I can rely on to give me honest feedback. And then, when I know better, I do better.
  • I am sometimes overwhelmed with the volume of work.

    This one seems related to all three points above. And I am also doing my best to approach work in organized ways so I don’t lose track of things. That’s an ongoing project.
  • I sometimes undervalue my own judgment or opinion.

    I came back and edited this post to add this area for growth because I was thinking about it this past week. If others have set something up in a certain way or pitch a certain preference, I tend to accept it, downplaying a part of me that might see a better way to do things. This attribute is sometimes helpful for collaboration, for prioritizing what really needs attention, and for being a low maintenance person who doesn’t create work for others.

    However. I’m in my role for a reason. I need to take ownership of decisions in my area, and, as long as I’m being smart and thoughtful and making sure I have the relevant info, I need to assert my opinion so we do things well as often as possible.

    I’m also going to add that these areas for growth are very particular to me. Other people could struggle with the exact opposite things. Often it’s about striking a balance, using my default habits in moderate ways that are helpful to me, my colleagues, and my university….but not taking my habits to extremes that are detrimental.

I gotta end here and get to my research. My pancakes and strawberries are long gone. But I’m reading ahead a bit (I’ve only read the Intro and Chapter One! yikes), and I like what I see. “Managing up” isn’t about who controls whom; it’s more about being aware of styles so we can work better as a team within existing hierarchies. I like that. As someone in a middle management position, I really like that.

Book cover of The Unwritten Rules Managing Up by Dayna Brownlee

driving still

Posted on

It’s that moment when you step on the gas pedal and expect to move forward
but the engine revs
and you don’t go anywhere

Of course. Stuck.
You’re thinking mud, right?
You imagine the tires spinning, the ruts growing deeper, the dirt flying, the car growing stucker.
(Yeah, I just made up that word. Stucker.)

Or snow. Are you thinking snow?
Same picture, but lighter and whiter, with icy air keeping you inside the car’s heated warmth
and somehow you keep pressing the gas, drive, reverse, drive, rocking and praying
please please please please fucking car please please please please please fucking move.
And maybe it does. Or maybe it doesn’t.
If it doesn’t, you know what’s next. The emergency shovel you keep in the back, the frigid air, the labor and hope, the jumping back into the driver’s seat and praying as you shift into
reverse drive reverse drive
(Let’s not even think about how unlikely you are to have an emergency shovel)

But it’s okay.

Your car is not stuck or stucker in mud or in snow.
It’s the gear shift. It’s the gear shift stuck in neutral or maybe park
except you can’t unstick it. You can’t even reach it for some reason.
You kinda try, but you know it won’t work
because you are stuck in a surreal dream slash nightmare version of the world
with a logic that you all know but no one understands.
You either wait for someone else to do it, to move, so easily, into drive–
or even reverse, reverse would be lovely–
what is not lovely is the gas the rev the stillness
So. You wait.

or

you get out of the car

***
This is the third odd thing I’ve written since Monday. It feels good to write in a kinda free way, to express something in me that wants to come out, with only a soft gesture towards actually communicating.

And here’s a confession. I like to include an image with every blog post, but it’s too cold to take a pic of my car or a gear shift, so I’m just gonna skip it. Maybe I’ll edit to add a pic tomorrow.

the moment before a crisis

Posted on

Part One

What is that moment before the crisis?
that liminal space when all things are still possible
that moment when the cartoon character is not yet suspended in mid-air,
   feet moving, expecting against the laws of physics to gain traction,
   that moment when the inevitability of the fall is still
still
still
   a footstep away?
That moment when staying on the cliff is scary,
when stopping running means facing whatever is chasing.

Part Two

The moment when the glass of milk is on the brink of falling from the counter
but my hand reacts before my mind does.
I grab it, perhaps more forcefully than what’s necessary, but it was on the brink.
It was! It was going to fall. I was so afraid it was going to fall.
You look at me, and we both look at the drops sloshed onto my hand,
the miniature pools of white on the counter,
the streaks still running down the glass,
the two tiny streams winding down the front of the cabinet and dripping
   dripping
  dripping
onto the floor.

My eyes meet yours. They scream for you to see what isn’t there
no sticky residue splattered in places we miss cleaning up
no encountering the mess gradually, over and over, in the next days and weeks
no milk soaked into the kitchen mat to sour and smell–almost imperceptibly at first–over time

no glass shattered and splintered where slivers would lodge in our food and our feet
cutting
cutting
cutting
our flesh inside-out and outside-in
slivers of glass too small, too numerous, too sharp to see or extract or prevent

No one dying of thirst because the glass of milk is gone, emptied, shattered, no longer here

Part Three

That’s all I’m talking about.
A glass of milk.
The edge of a counter.
The moment before the fall.
The hesitation, the action.
The small sloshing inconvenience and your accusing eyes.
The small sloshing inconvenience and the openness of the next moment
   and the next
  and the next
  and the next
  and the next

Or the other outcome:
 the spilled milk
 the shattered glass
 the crying
 the closing of possibility

picture of a full glass of milk being grabbed by a hand as it teeters on the edge of a kitchen counter