Thu todo tada

abbreviated todo list
✓ eye appointment
✓ pick up youngest sister after her rehearsal; go to parents' for dinner and car and laundry
* fold laundry
* wash dishes
* pastitsio
* clean out purse
* Freelance final draft (late!)
* Freelance reflection (late!)
* Doing Feminist Theory 256-290
* Doing Feminist Theory 393-396
* Full Frontal Feminism chapter 10
* Full Frontal Feminism chapter 11
* Full Frontal Feminism chapter 12
* Full Frontal Feminism chapter 13
* Full Frontal Feminism chapter 14
* mind map
* theories table
* discussion post
* "State Violence, Sex Trade, and the Failure of Anti-Trafficking Policies" (Koyama)
* Imagining Transgender
* Critical Response 8

( Toys class )

( reeeeally long lists here )

(no subject)

Elizabeth Bear on burnout, creativity, and the tyranny of production schedules.

for reasons I am sharing Emily Dickinson poetry today (bit morbid, but Dickinson often is)

Death is a dialogue between
The spirit and the dust.
"Dissolve," says Death. The Spirit, "Sir,
I have another trust."

Death doubts it, argues from the ground.
The Spirit turns away,
Just laying off, for evidence,
An overcoat of clay.


I see thee clearer for the Grave
That took thy face between
No Mirror could illumine thee
Like that impassive stone —

I know thee better for the Act
That made thee first unknown
The stature of the empty nest
Attests the Bird that's gone.


Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.

We slowly drove—He knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—

We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess—in the ring—
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—

Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—

Since then—'tis centuries— and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—