Headlines

Public Service Announcement: I have read the first two books in the Twilight series, and I must insist that you read them ONLY if you have a girl in your life who has read or may read them. The books are crap of the highest order, and the feature one of the worst, most drippy, dreadful protagonists I have ever encountered. Avoid these books at all costs, unless—as I said—you know a young fan. If you do, please read them immediately and initiate a discussion so as to ascertain whether fan in question thinks it’s normal for girls to completely sublimate themselves to their overbearing boyfriends, and whether she thinks it’s okay for female sexuality to be portrayed as something that literally threatens her life unless it remains totally passive, and controlled by said boyfriend.

That concludes this public service message. Thank you.

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Back to the Lab Again: I have been serving as the de facto music librarian here at my station, and have been cataloging the tens of thousands of CDs in the music library. (Believe it or not, there is no formal catalog or database in existence.) I couldn’t help but notice, as I cataloged, that there is a real dearth of women in jazz; unless they’re vocalists, women are few and far between. Intrigued, I started gathering information about the women who did/do have more of a role—women musicians, arrangers, and composers, and I thought . . . I THOUGHT . . . I might be able to come up with a small book about these women, and what made them succeed in the dark, seedy man’s world of jazz. I mean, I have all kinds of resources at my fingertips, Pittsburgh is a jazz hub, and I have a master’s degree in what is essentially research, so I figured a publisher might actually take a proposal from me seriously. Right?

But it turns out that the people I was most interested in, like Marylou Williams, have been covered pretty thoroughly. And guess what: If I’m not completely captivated by a subject, I can’t give it enough of my energy to come up with a decent scholarly article, much less an entire book.

As Beck sang: “Soy un perdidor. I’m loser, Baby, so why don’t you kill me?”

So while there is not a book in my immediate future, it looks like an exam will be: I’m going to retake the GRE because my old scores (from back when I was SMART) have expired. Why am I doing this? So I can get another master’s degree, of course. Because I’m having a terrible time finding a library job in a university library (and once you work for a university, the perks are impossible to give up, let me tell you), and I think having a second master’s will be a big help there. So . . . time to remember my geometry and brush up on my vocabulary, because I have to pin my self-worth to a standardized test score. Woo!

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I Have Pretty Fingernails: I don’t do anything to deserve them, and I only really notice them when they need trimming, like now, but . . . as I am fairly light on the natural beauty assets, I thought I would take a moment to publicly appreciate them. And, you know, take a picture of my fingers while I’m supposed to be working.