About Me

Name: velocibadgergirl

I'm an unrepentant science nerd. I talk too much, read voraciously, and have mostly given up swearing. I have degrees in geology and creative writing, but my job doesn't have too much to do with either. I'm married to MB, the greatest guy on the whole entire planet. We're doing our best to raise a good dog (adopted April 2008) and a happy kid (born January 2010). It's not always easy, but together we're finding our way.

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velocibadgergirl (at) gmail dot com

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Geologist, defined
→ it's as if they know me

Pandora
→ the best music site ever
playlist.com
→ source of nifty song-playing widgets

Postsecret
→ (updated Sundays)
Found Magazine

Animal Tracks
→ (weekly animal pic slideshows)
Month in Space
→ (monthly space slideshows)

Peep Research
Peep Research 2
Peep Surgery
→ (my favorite)
An Empirical Study of Foil Hats
→ (no, really)
Aluminum Foil Deflector Beanie
→ (practical mind control protection for paranoids)

template design by dungeonbadger (MB)
content copyright velocibadgergirl
2005 – 2012
All Rights Reserved

Marginalia
— © Billy Collins

Sometimes the notes are ferocious,

skirmishes against the author

raging along the borders of every page

in tiny black script.

If I could just get my hands on you,

Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,

they seem to say,

I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head.

Other comments are more offhand, dismissive —

"Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" —

that kind of thing.

I remember once looking up from my reading,

my thumb as a bookmark,

trying to imagine what the person must look like

who wrote "Don't be a ninny"

alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson.

Students are more modest

needing to leave only their splayed footprints

along the shore of the page.

One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's.

Another notes the presence of "Irony"

fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal.

Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers,

Hands cupped around their mouths.

"Absolutely," they shout

to Duns Scotus and James Baldwin.

"Yes." "Bull's-eye." "My man!"

Check marks, asterisks, and exclamation points

rain down along the sidelines.

And if you have managed to graduate from college

without ever having written "Man vs. Nature"

in a margin, perhaps now

is the time to take one step forward.

We have all seized the white perimeter as our own

and reached for a pen if only to show

we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;

we pressed a thought into the wayside,

planted an impression along the verge.

Even Irish monks in their cold scriptoria

jotted along the borders of the Gospels

brief asides about the pains of copying,

a bird singing near their window,

or the sunlight that illuminated their page —

anonymous men catching a ride into the future

on a vessel more lasting than themselves.

And you have not read Joshua Reynolds,

they say, until you have read him

enwreathed with Blake's furious scribbling.

Yet the one I think of most often,

the one that dangles from me like a locket,

was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye

I borrowed from the local library

one slow, hot summer.

I was just beginning high school then,

reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room,

and I cannot tell you

how vastly my loneliness was deepened,

how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed

when I found on one page

A few greasy looking smears

and next to them, written in soft pencil —

by a beautiful girl, I could tell,

whom I would never meet —

"Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love."

4 Comments:

At 2:17 AM, rabidmonkey said...: the shirt's adorable, but i have to ask you something. is the picture or do his jeans totally fit him like tiny hoodlum pants? because that would be lethally cute.
At 8:05 AM, velocibadgergirl said...: It's mostly the picture, though they do sag on him a little. I wish I had a photo of him standing up, because they're so effin' cute. They're little perfectly-proportioned carpenter jeans, and I looooooooove them. Unlike most baby jeans, which look like baby jeans, these look like miniature grown man jeans.
At 11:23 AM, Bibliomama said...: My grown-ass boy just turned ten. Nico? -- he's totally still a delicious pudgy baby and I NEED TO SQUISH HIM.
At 12:57 AM, velocibadgergirl said...: He's quite squishable!

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Marginalia
— © Billy Collins


	Sunday, May 16, 2010 What's your name? I discovered a small stash of 6 month size T-shirts in Nico's dresser, and since that's the size he's just barely still fitting into right now, I've been putting the T-shirts on him one after another so he at least gets to wear each one once. It wasn't so long ago that all these shirts looked comically large when I held them up to his chest. I snapped a photo of him this morning in his T-shirt of the day, and you guys...he looks like some kind of grown ass BOY all of a sudden instead of a pudgy little baby. I'm not entirely sure I can handle this. Oh, and his no-clothes dry-diaper weight this week (at two days shy of four months old) was 17 lbs 7 oz. Have mercy. Reading: Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, for the Book Lushes Playing: the Into the Wild soundtrack by Eddie Vedder Labels: the brachiopod posted by velocibadgergirl @ 11:04 PM 4 comments 4 Comments: At 2:17 AM, rabidmonkey said... the shirt's adorable, but i have to ask you something. is the picture or do his jeans totally fit him like tiny hoodlum pants? because that would be lethally cute. At 8:05 AM, velocibadgergirl said... It's mostly the picture, though they do sag on him a little. I wish I had a photo of him standing up, because they're so effin' cute. They're little perfectly-proportioned carpenter jeans, and I looooooooove them. Unlike most baby jeans, which look like baby jeans, these look like miniature grown man jeans. At 11:23 AM, Bibliomama said... My grown-ass boy just turned ten. Nico? -- he's totally still a delicious pudgy baby and I NEED TO SQUISH HIM. At 12:57 AM, velocibadgergirl said... He's quite squishable! Post a Comment Newer Posts \| Home \| Older Posts	About Me Name: velocibadgergirl I'm an unrepentant science nerd. I talk too much, read voraciously, and have mostly given up swearing. I have degrees in geology and creative writing, but my job doesn't have too much to do with either. I'm married to MB, the greatest guy on the whole entire planet. We're doing our best to raise a good dog (adopted April 2008) and a happy kid (born January 2010). It's not always easy, but together we're finding our way. View my complete profile 100 Things velocibadgergirl (at) gmail dot com show hide Meta badgerbooks garden blog review blog Year of Decluttering Flickr Tumblr Twitter show hide Categorically Defined .303 bookworm 42 adventures the brachiopod family friends geekitude Internet! Forever. kumbaya MB memes music pardon the house obsession Photo Friday video killed the radio star we named the dog Indiana show hide Archives 2005 Posts October November December 2006 Posts January February March April May June July August September October November December 2007 Posts January February March April May June July August September October November December 2008 Posts January February March April May June July August September October November December 2009 Posts January February March April May June July August September October November December 2010 Posts January February March April May June July August September October November December 2011 Posts January February March April May June July August September October November December 2012 Posts January February show hide People I Know A Work in Progress Butter No Parsnips Circus Randomus Crummy Socks Evil Ducky The Dig-It-Yourself Garden Kathmandu Cats Stephanie Snowe: the blog Turds and Whey show hide People I Read All & Sundry Amalah Breathe Gently Breed 'em and Weep The Cheeseblog Crazy Aunt Purl Cry it Out Do They Read Obituaries in Hell? Finslippy Flotsam Fussy A Girl and a Boy Hearts Into Home Hi Happy Panda Hola, Isabel Hollow Squirrel i am bossy I Shall Never Forget the Russian Salad Jocelyn's Stories Jonniker JJust Kidding kerrianne The Mailroom Metalia Mimi Smartypants Momo Fali's Moose in the Kitchen Nothing But Bonfires One N Jen Party of 3 Pickles & Dimes Pop Culture Librarian Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia Sarah and the Goon Squad S'up? Sweet Juniper! Swistle Tasmiya Whoopee show hide Stuff I Like Geologist, defined → it's as if they know me Pandora → the best music site ever playlist.com → source of nifty song-playing widgets Things Look Like Things The Daily Coyote Skull-A-Day Cake Wrecks Craftastrophe Fuck You, Penguin Dogblog Project Rungay Go Fug Yourself Overheard in New York xkcd Pearls Before Swine Dinosaur Comics Postsecret → (updated Sundays) Found Magazine Animal Tracks → (weekly animal pic slideshows) Month in Space → (monthly space slideshows) Badger Badger Badger Footy Footy Footy Christmas Badgers Looking for my Leopard Star Wars Gangsta Rap Cows With Guns The Pygmy Shrew Cat Hilarity A Squirrel Story The best church ad EVER Peep Research Peep Research 2 Peep Surgery → (my favorite) An Empirical Study of Foil Hats → (no, really) Aluminum Foil Deflector Beanie → (practical mind control protection for paranoids) template design by dungeonbadger (MB) content copyright velocibadgergirl 2005 – 2012 All Rights Reserved Marginalia — © Billy Collins Sometimes the notes are ferocious, skirmishes against the author raging along the borders of every page in tiny black script. If I could just get my hands on you, Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien, they seem to say, I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head. Other comments are more offhand, dismissive — "Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" — that kind of thing. I remember once looking up from my reading, my thumb as a bookmark, trying to imagine what the person must look like who wrote "Don't be a ninny" alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson. Students are more modest needing to leave only their splayed footprints along the shore of the page. One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's. Another notes the presence of "Irony" fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal. Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers, Hands cupped around their mouths. "Absolutely," they shout to Duns Scotus and James Baldwin. "Yes." "Bull's-eye." "My man!" Check marks, asterisks, and exclamation points rain down along the sidelines. And if you have managed to graduate from college without ever having written "Man vs. Nature" in a margin, perhaps now is the time to take one step forward. We have all seized the white perimeter as our own and reached for a pen if only to show we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages; we pressed a thought into the wayside, planted an impression along the verge. Even Irish monks in their cold scriptoria jotted along the borders of the Gospels brief asides about the pains of copying, a bird singing near their window, or the sunlight that illuminated their page — anonymous men catching a ride into the future on a vessel more lasting than themselves. And you have not read Joshua Reynolds, they say, until you have read him enwreathed with Blake's furious scribbling. Yet the one I think of most often, the one that dangles from me like a locket, was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye I borrowed from the local library one slow, hot summer. I was just beginning high school then, reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room, and I cannot tell you how vastly my loneliness was deepened, how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed when I found on one page A few greasy looking smears and next to them, written in soft pencil — by a beautiful girl, I could tell, whom I would never meet — "Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love."
	I believe in God, only I spell it Nature. — Frank Lloyd Wright

What's your name?

4 Comments:

About Me

Meta

Categorically Defined

Archives

People I Know

People I Read

Stuff I Like

Marginalia— © Billy Collins

Marginalia
— © Billy Collins