Author Archives: McCutcheon

Owning and Possessing in a Digital World

We live in curi­ous and con­fus­ing times, as have pretty much all our ances­tors through­out all of recorded his­tory. Some lines that once seemed clear are always start­ing to blur, and that is always going to make us uncom­fort­able to some extent, although we all have vary­ing degrees of tol­er­ance for such unease, espe­cially when

I always skip the Oscars

Okay, so I have very lit­tle to say about the Acad­emy Awards tonight (or ever, really), but what lit­tle I do have I will say now. I have noth­ing against awards cer­e­monies per se, and while I know rather lit­tle about the film indus­try aside from what is com­mon pop-culture knowl­edge (which feels like know­ing a

Messing up the blank page

Of all the many many ter­rors which life seems to hold for me, few are as par­a­lyz­ing as a new blank note­book. That is why I have so many of them: I love note­books, I am drawn to almost every­thing about them, and I pur­chase them almost (but not quite) com­pul­sively. But most of the

A Moan about a Meme

I fully real­ize that this is an odd thing to feel strongly about, par­tic­u­larly with all that is going on in the polis right now, but I really hate the lat­est viral meme that is mak­ing the rounds on Face­book (and per­haps else­where) in seem­ingly tire­less iter­a­tions. You’ve seen the one I’m talk­ing about: four

I know the name”

I am, as many of you know, a whole-hearted embracer of social net­work­ing, or at least the ver­sion of it that hap­pens on specially-designed web­sites ded­i­cated to some aspect of that pur­pose. Face­book, LinkedIn, Academia.edu, even Goodreads: I’m on them all. I am remark­ably dili­gent in scour­ing up per­sons from var­i­ous eras of my life,

Baby sister no more, and yet always

I remem­ber the first day of Decem­ber, eigh­teen years ago. It was a soft, snowy morn­ing on our farm on the west­ern edge of Min­nesota, and my two sis­ters and I had fin­ished feed­ing the goats and chick­ens, and had some­how wan­dered down to the end of our short dri­ve­way, where we were engaged in

Unspreading

I attended a doc­toral defense yes­ter­day at my school. Ours is not a huge fac­ulty, so there are less than a hand­ful of these excit­ing events each school year. I try to make it to all of them that are in lan­guages I can com­pre­hend (so, the ones in Eng­lish). After three years of this,

Blocked? Busy? Either way, still blank

The blank page. Star­ing back, no mat­ter how long I stare at it. Wait­ing, with­out the slight­est hint or notion of either patience or impa­tience. Merely wait­ing to receive any words, any words at all, that are placed upon it. But no words are placed, day after day, week after week, month after month. The page stays blank. I keep

Will we have a farm?

My fam­ily and I have spent a beau­ti­ful week­end on a work­ing “vaca­tion farm” in rural New York. Grow­ing up as I did in a almost-entirely agri­cul­tural region, the idea that city dwellers would pay good money to drive sev­eral hours out of the urban bus­tle so they can wake up early and feed some

Until the music stops

There will be no way of know­ing when my heart will stop work­ing. But it will: I am quite sure of that. Not soon, don’t worry. I imag­ine I have a solid twenty years left that I can more or less count on. After that, though, I will be fool­ish not to regard each day