[we]blog · a · bi · lia (n.) [blog-uh-bil-ee-uh]
     -plural noun, singular -a · bi ·
le

1. digital scraps, orts.
2. points worthy of posting to a blog, esp. when they are underdeveloped and
list-like.

[Origin: 2007, Earth Wide Moth;
n. use of L blogābilia things to be blogged, neut. pl. of blogābilis
blogable]

Tonight’s will be a ten item list:

• Blogabilia reminds me of the local liquor store chain in and around the
  Kansas City area called Berbiglia. The cut-off for friends who were
  drinking in college was when they could no longer mutter Berbiglia without
  spit flying from the mouth. Rarely, rarely did it come to this.
• Bird Library sent me an automated message this morning explaining I had
  accumulated $30 in late fees for books due on 11/30. I jumped on the phone
  to the circulation desk and explained that up until this last summer,
  overdue notices arrived by email in time such that I could either 1.) renew
  online or 2.) expediently return the books to our fine library. The
  system has changed, I explained. On the other end: “We’ll look into it.
  The software was updated over the summer.” Aha! And so the debts were
  forgiven. I am once more in Bird’s good graces.
• Ph. has a chemistry project coming up that requires a caloric and
  substance analysis of a homemade goodie. It must include at least five
  ingredients. Up to five more ingredients will count toward extra
  credit. I’m open to any and all ten-ingredient suggestions you can
  make (in part because I don’t feel like messing with the gingerbread
  cookies).
• Yesterday I learned that PHP has an "explode function" for those arrays
  that reach a max size of 100,000. The factoid effectively detonates a
  planned portion (ciao, so long, arrivederci) of the diss.
• I renewed the domain name earthwidemoth.com, which means this blog will
  carry on through yet another year. Blog Day’s not until after the New
  Year, but today’s hosting renewal had to come first.
• Today is the tenth birthday my mother has missed since she died suddenly
  and unexpectedly in the summer of ’97. I still pause when I reiterate
  "suddenly and unexpectedly," as if I cannot mention her death with any other
  adverbs. There is a dull timelessness in those descriptors. I have dwelt on this before. Also, because
  she was a 12/12er and I am a 5/5er, I am especially keen on birthdays with a
  day/month match, like the one belonging to my nephew T., 11/11.
• I was on campus earlier for a pair of practice job talks.
• While I was on campus, I printed the first sixteen pages of chapter
  three. There is a certain shadowy corner to this moment in the chapter.
  The shadowy corner? In pre-dawn basketball workouts the shadowy corner
  was the part of the track where coach could not see whether we were actually
  running on the track or cutting the corner and running on the grass.
  Many of us kept to the track; a few did not. Nobody said anything
  about it. Describing this section of chapter three as a shadowy corner
  does not resolve for me whether I am thinking of it as a coach who cannot
  see or as a runner who faces the dilemma of either keeping to the paved lane
  or straying for efficiency’s sake. It is worth mentioning in these terms because it is both (and, therefore, mildly conflicted).
• Tonight I re-read Matsuda’s chapter, "Coming to Voice: Publishing as a
  Graduate Student." I ran across it when I was leafing around in a pile of
  materials from the genre course I took in the summer of 2005. He
  writes: "Now that I have a tenure-track job, however, I have come to think
  of being a graduate student as a somewhat privileged status. At Purdue, I
  was only teaching three courses per year. I had no obligation to
  administer programs, serve on academic committees, or mentor graduate
  students, although I did so voluntarily" (50). Lest, in the fogs of
  dissertating, I forget.
• The blogobilia were going to be ten-long. Was? Were? Was, I think.
  Was going to be ten-long.
  Maybe not.