Johann Georg Hainz’s Cabinet of Curiosities, circa 1666. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons During the Renaissance, cabinet of curiosities came into fashion as a collection of objects that would often defy classification. As a precursor to the modern museum, the cabinet referred to room(s), not actual furniture, of things that piqued the owners interest and would be collected and displayed in an aesthetically pleasing manner. Collectioun of Cunnynge Curioustes is my 21st century interpretation of that idea.
I am big in Canada!
Dear Internet,
Before I begin, I need to note some changes that have been going on. First big change is that I migrated all the blog posts over from my professional site to this site. I was not updating the blog portion of my professional presence in a meaningful time frame AND I talk a lot about professional stuff over here so combining the two became a natural progression. I have put the posts relating to the professional stuff on its own page, which is automatically updated as new content is published. I also have a widget in the right navigation bar for easy access.
The second change is that I reorganized the professional site to be more transparent on what my goals and career plans are, and took away the features that were geared for current MPOW by putting them on its own portfolio page.
Lastly, while I was working on this, I found out from my favorite John that at the recent Ontario Library Association, I was a THING OF EXCELLENCE (see photo at beginning of this piece) on online portfolios. I found the accompanying wrap-up of the presentation, which has a lot of good info.
That’s it for the news.
This all ties into when I started writing this post on developing a profesh librarian site last year, geared to illustrate my own experiences and giving examples of others. MPOW originally required faculty, of which includes librarians, to have a Faculty Performance Evaluation portfolio (formerly known as the FGIP) in place and on paper. My work is nearly all in the digital world, so thus my portfolio was digital. In the fall of 2013, MPOW moved over to an in-house digital product to manage and did away with paper and also making my site obsolete.
I came to the conclusion this was a good time to make my profesh site more robust and provide all the things! I changed the layout and theme a few times until I got something close to what I liked and started filling in more content, primarily stuff from before I started working at the college and more details about professional projects I was currently working on.
Yet, I felt like no matter how much I tweaked, I was still not satisfied with how the site was turning out. I came up with the brilliant idea that I needed to see what other people were doing, so I headed to Google and searched:
Time frame searched: Within the last twelve months
Criteria: Professional-esque site, with something that resembled a resume/CV, with a list of projects/presentations/papers or something resembling professional development. It was fine if they had a blog, were linking to other sites they frequented, or provided content that was more relevant to personal than professional.
I rejected sites linking to LinkedIn for resume/CV information since that required a LinkedIn account, which I don’t have and will not get. I rejected sites about librarianship that were portal or aggregation sites. I rejected book review sites. I rejected the use of the word “librarian” in the title or URL by people who were not librarians.
I rejected a lot of content.
I combed through 56 pages of Google results.
I found very little. Maybe two sites, possibly three that fit my criteria.
I sulked about this for awhile because how was this even possible? There were a gazillion librarians, no one has a professional site? I knew creating digital portfolios was the rage at most library and iSchools, so why were these not coming up? Why weren’t people I knew who had professional sites coming up? My search was pretty broad and I did not discriminate against any type of librarianship.
Someone suggested I should look at the websites of people I know, which was a fine idea! I went through all 500+ people I follow on Twitter and added their names to my now growing list. Several people made recommendations. Of the roughly 50 people listed below, less than a handful are ones I do not know.
Provides a resume/CV or some kind of professional biography about the person
Presents publications / papers / talks of works either completed and/or in progress
Contact information is clearly made available in some form (email or social network)
It is now a nearly a year later and I repeated the same Google search. I combed through nearly 14 pages of links and found that only FOUR of the names listed in the table above showed up, as opposed to two in 2013. I found another 11 people who matched my criteria but were not in the above for a grand total of 15 people out of hundreds of hits as opposed to three in 2013.
In my search, I learned:
A large number of librarians really love using about.me and tumblr.com for their portals
Librarians of all flavors really love doing book review blogs
Almost all were “something” librarian (sneezy librarian, scratchy librarian, and so forth)
Librarians really love using “uncategorized” as their default category taxonomy on their blogs (WHY??)
Despite doing a global search, I had a hard time finding English language non-American librarian sites
With the exception of the four in my list, none of the librarians listed above came up in my search despite almost all of them having “librarian” somewhere in the title of their site, URL, or on their landing page
Despite using the word “librarian” on my landing page and using good SEO, I did not come up in the searches performed in 2013 and 2014
Search performed in April 2013 came up with 56 pages of results. Same search and Google settings in February 2014 came up with 14 pages of results.
This outcome really surprised me. I went searching for other sites to get ideas for design and content, and now I’m thinking about the fallacy of Google and search in general. Primarily with Google, their new algorithm now leads news and products pushed to the top over sites with content.
But what this discrepancy says to me more is how we’re valued as a whole. We can’t project who we are, the diversity in jobs AND the people in the profession, if the term “librarian” is continually used to have such fluid meaning. My favorite John responded,
it’s both a desire for that authenticity and an implicit belief that the work librarians do is not very hard.
And he’s right. This is what frustrates me that we tell people who are going into the field to go search for librarians online but if a librarian themselves can’t find those like her, how on earth are we to expect the young bloods coming up in the field to connect and outreach to those they want to be mentored by? How are we able to connect and collaborate if we cannot find each other?
We keep going on about marketing to outside our profession, but exactly how are we doing that? If you’re not utilizing social networking and are relying your website as your main presence, then how are people finding you if even the most basic searches reveal nothing? Are we really putting together sites that make it easier for others to find us or are still projecting the cool kids club attitude by unintentionally putting barriers around ourselves?
P.S. I did find and fall in love with the Oh, So You’re A Librarian tumblr while doing this search as their gif curation is exquisite.
1. This search means, “Google. Please find me all sites that have the word “librarian” in them but does NOT contain “ask a librarian” (a common phrase used on library websites to direct users to ways they can ask a librarian) or “annoyed librarian” (the anonymous writer for a column in Library Journal).
Dear Internet,
In the weeks since ALA midwinter, and the #LibTechGender panel, conversations have shifted all over the place. Much, I believe for the good. I have been attempting to be mindful and listen, read and listen more. Becky Yoose’s post, Gatekeeping the table full of cookies, and recent conversations with others have prompted me to put out there what I have been thinking for discussion.
(This is being fueled by vegan White Russians, so be forewarned.)
The conflict over the use of “storytelling”
Becky, and Julia, make clear, concise arguments on why storytelling is often not a Good Thing. I wrestled with this a lot. I do a lot of storytelling here on the blog on a variety of topics that can, and are often, painful to read, let alone write. It is mentally and emotionally taxing to keep pulling at the same scab over and over, but it is something I often feel needs to be done because there are too many variations on how people learn. So how do you approach this with grace and be mindful of other people’s needs? Hard question, but my buddy Liz put it rather succinctly, “Some need to feel comfortable with their own story before they’ll ever feel comfortable at the table.” This seems like a great way to start those conversations.
The conversation is going to be messy, whether we like it or not
I am at heart an observer and a commentator on what I observe. I’ve seen people talk around each other. I have had people tell me that they or someone they know are afraid to speak up. I’ve seen people ignore other points of view because for whatever reason. I’ve seen people dominate the conversation for their own gain, personally and professionally. I’ve seen people get into the conversation to cause a ruckus and then leave, never to be heard from again. I have had people say they don’t want to talk about this or any related topic publicly because of potential ramifications, privately or publicly. And when I mean people, I’m talking about anyone who describes themselves as human and has opposable thumbs. What we’re not doing is talking to each other. I don’t have the perfect answer for this, but I do know we need to put aside our egos and personal interests (myself included here) and move beyond the personal to start working towards the common good. If we don’t, nothing is going to get changed.
We are all human
I am going to eff up. You are going to eff up. They are going to eff up. I’m not conjugating verbs here, I’m pointing out that no one, no matter who they are, is going to eff up. We’re human. We pick ourselves up, we apologize, and we move on. I have long been cognizant my own diseases1 warp some of my social interactions and have said this many times to people privately and publicly, so this is ripe for repetition: If I somehow offend / piss you off / am an asshole or any other combination on anything, please let me know what and how so I can fix it / apologize / clarify. I’m being sincere here. One of the biggest growth things I’ve been working on is swallowing my own pride and listening to people when they are critical of something I did and or said that has upset them and not taking it as an outright attack against my person. It’s hard to shut up and listen, but if I truly want to be a good ally, hell a good human, I (we) have to let the ego go.
Gender 101 vs Academic/Structural Breakdown
I’ve seen arguments fly for both sides and both opinions are equally valid. I do not believe this should be an either/or thing. There are a lot of people who need the Gender 101/Social Justice intro and those who want to tackle the higher level stuff. As we’re not all at the same level, we should be but we’re not, dismissing one over the other is counter-productive and in the end, makes the conversation much messier. There is definitely room for both sides, and everything in between, to exist until we get it right.
This is not the Lisa Rabey show
After Internet Librarian happened, I was approached about the following things:
Editorial in a major professional magazine on library/technology/gender
Potential to edit/write a book on library/technology/gender
Quoted in various places
Requested to be on numerous panels at various conferences on library/technology/gender
Requested/finagled to do an interview panel for Circulating Ideas on library/technology/gender
I am not an expert on anything other than my own life. But what I am is brassy personality who is a bull in a china shop who asks the right questions, sometimes the hard questions, at the right time. I am not the only one talking about this and I am not presenting myself as being the authority on the topic. But I think because I’ve been writing about my own experiences for nearly two years on sexism/gender inequality in library land and I was vocal on the panel at IL AND after as well as I keep tweeting to keep the conversations going, I’ve been approached because I’m accessible. I’ve turned down / requested others to be at the table other than me but many decline, due to some variation of my second point, so then I’m being touted as the voice. I also get no matter how much I make clear my intentions, there are people who are going to wildly disagree with whatever I’m doing. There is room for critique but I do not take kindly to willful misreading of situations to suit someone’s agenda. This whole situation becomes circular at times and trying to navigate this is tricky and hard in any attempt to be mindful, so if anyone has suggestions on how to better navigate this AND make the conversation go forward, please pass those along.
No matter what, someone is going to be mad
LaToya Peterson, owner and editor of Racialicious, wrote transformatively on the value of work, mindfulness, and moving the work forward. While her conversation is directed as a response to the Jezebel / Toxic Feminism kerfuffles, I felt her wisdom was on par with what I was attempting to figure out and articulate my thoughts on lib/tech/gender and it has been my touchstone for me in the last few weeks. LaToya’s comments, coupled with a few other things I have been reading lately in the same vein make concrete an ugly truth: No matter how much you try to be civil, kind, and attack the evil, people are going to be assholes. People are going to attack you not because of what you’re doing, but because you’re being you. Because you’re not doing it right. Because you’re doing it too right. Because you farted in the wrong direction. In short, someone is going to get pissed over something no matter how hard you try to right the wrong. Someone is not going to be happy because you were not doing it their way.This book project weighs on me heavily – I do not want to be another cis/white woman eating all the cookies. I worry heavily about my writers and the ramifications of their bravery and courage. I worry my diverse group of writers will be criticized for not being diverse enough or too diverse. I worry that people will critique the call was not made at various spots thus we were ignoring other voices, regardless if the call was actually made or not. I worry that it will be seen too much as 101 and not adding to the conversation. I worry about these things because this is the behavior I’m seeing in conversation on Twitter, which is leading me to believe something in print will be amplified.What was drilled into my head is putting the book out there, acknowledging the book’s shortcomings AND its strengths, will go a long way to blocking the detractors. I also know if I am going to go forward with this, even with that caveat and being mindful of the content, there will be complaints. I had to decide if I can grow the skin to separate the personal complaints against the legitimate critiques, and I decided the answer was yes. There has to be a first book, to push others then to write/edit their own books to move the conversation along. To get voices that may not have been heard before out there. Yes. This needs to happen.
Questionable need for conferences / panels / summits not held by those trained in the field could potentially do more harm than good
This is a valid critique and one I’ve been musing on for a while. Using the Backup Ribbon project as an example, stopping to see if someone is okay is not the same as being a counselor / expert in the field and should not be touted as such. It is simply being human. The ribbon provides an entry way to let people know you are there when they need you and can pull them out of harms way if they need it and direct them to appropriate sources. It seems logical if someone is warning said ribbon at a conference, it should behoove them to be familiar with the conference’s particular Code of Conduct / anti-harassment policies to have that information on hand when it is needed. As for the panels, conferences, and so forth, my experience with IL was the panel did the following:
Created a public venue for people to interact in often “elephant in the room” topic
Created a public voice, even if lopsided, to “elephant in the room” topics
It was a point of entry for those who may not have pathways to discussing the topic
I may be wholly naive on this, but I think as long as it is made clear what people’s intentions are and what the outcomes may be, presenting/discussing 101 and working on pointing people in the right direction to get training, additional information, etc can’t necessarily be a bad thing. It has to be done mindfully and with skill, but getting folks moving in the right direction is how they will move and think for themselves and carry their own conversations forward.
I am thankful for a lot of people listening and talking to me on these discussions, primarily Coral, Cecily, Emily, and Kristin. I’ll keep reading, listening, and reading and listening some more.
1. I’m Bipolar 1/2, with ADHD married with general anxiety disorder. At times when I am unstable, my behaviors are considerably more abrasive and alienating. Reconciling that sometimes it is the disease and sometimes it is me is hard work. I have had people say, later, that telling them to tell me when I am acting out in a way that is not acceptable is too confrontational. I can’t fix / clarify / apologize if I don’t know what I said/did that was intrusive. I am okay with doing the heavy lifting, but often I need to ask for help. There is, to me, no shame in asking for help.
By Lisa M. Rabey
Systems & Web Librarian
Dr. Reza Aslan, acclaimed author and scholar, will be speaking on Youth Revolt: The Future of the Middle East tonight February 12, at 7PM at Fountain Street Church.
The event is free and open to the public.
Azlan, who has written four books, will be addressing the topic of the younger generation of Muslims and their acuity for being socially conscious, politically active, and technologically savvy. He will also be discussing the development of the new Middle East and his predictions for the future.
For more information about tonight’s talk, visit the library’s Subject Guide on the [Continue Reading]
Originally published at: Lisa @ GRCC
By Lisa M. Rabey
Systems & Web Librarian
Today marks a special day on the Internet: It is the yearly Safer Internet Day, a day long event in which people from around the globe work together to provide a better Internet experience for all by sharing ways to “connect with respect” on being safe and having fun online.
It is also The Day We Fight Back, a worldwide protest against NSA’s mass surveillance protocol that is hot on the heels of SOPA and PIPA.
Both events are designed to bring awareness on privacy, cyberbullying, and security to name a few concerns. While you should always be safe and treat others with respect while you are online, it is always helpful to have a few guidelines. Below are recommendations, tip sheets, and organizational information on The Day We Fight Back and Safer Internet Day.
If you’re interested in learning more, the library has books / media on computer security, information technology – security measures, computer networks – security measures, computer crimes, data protection, and [Continue Reading]
Originally published at: Lisa @ GRCC
Johann Georg Hainz’s Cabinet of Curiosities, circa 1666. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons During the Renaissance, cabinet of curiosities came into fashion as a collection of objects that would often defy classification. As a precursor to the modern museum, the cabinet referred to room(s), not actual furniture, of things that piqued the owners interest and would be collected and displayed in an aesthetically pleasing manner. Collectioun of Cunnynge Curioustes is my 21st century interpretation of that idea.
Dear Internet,
Watching
Doc Martin
Finally finished up season 6. While on one hand I love the curmudgeonly doctor, the plot lines each season are exactly the same.
The Musketeers
Nice retelling of Dumas’ story, that also expounds on the story. It’s coming to BBCA this spring.
Mr. Selfridge
Season 2 of the hit show returns
The White Queen
I just finished the BBC version and then found out the Starz version was edited to INCLUDE more sexy times! Argh! But that aside, while the slow pick up, it got really interesting and started ramping up as the moves happened across the throne.
Moonfleet
Based on a beloved children’s story as a retelling of Blackbird, but the movie adaptation was bor-ring.
The IT Crowd
THE INTERNET IS COMING! The last episode of the benevolent geek show.
The Bletchley Circle
QI
K series has now ended and we’re ever more sad for it.
Black Sails
Starz’s new show about pirates and it’s slow going. Choppy editing and writing. It’s pretty to look at, but kind of vaccus to listen to.
Dear Internet,
Mother never explained death to me, so you can imagine at the age of 41 how naive I must feel.
Birth, of course, was an entirely different matter. She didn’t have any problem giving me explicit details of how my brother was conceived (clinically) and what was going to happen when she went into labor. She was a nurse by training so it may not have seem that odd to her to explain to her six year old where babies came from. I took this knowledge to my Catholic school playground where within days of my new education, I told my class the vivid details of human birth and dismissed the old trope of a stork and such. Mother was called in to reign in her precocious offspring and to stop scaring the children with such wild stories.
Death. Death was a whole ‘nother matter.
People who died in my family were so far removed, I didn’t understand the concept of what it meant to die until nearly high school. If a death would occur, it would be my mother or one of her sibling’s aunts, uncles, cousins, or high school friend they hadn’t seen in a decade. People I knew in name only or had met once or twice. My paternal grandparents were well into their 80s when I came along, and my maternal grandmother had died right after I was born. I did not attend my first funeral until I was 24 when my grandfather died in 1996.
We had no pets growing up, except for fish who seemed to die as rapidly as they were replaced. Well, that’s not entirely true. My brother and I had kittens we had rescued after we had moved to Grand Rapids in the late 1980s. A few weeks after we had them, my mother had accidentally stepped on of them, paralyzing it. She threw the still living cat into the apartment dumpster, where it was rescued shortly after by a neighbor who took it to have it humanely put down.
After a few years of apartment living and Mother’s boyfriend hopping, we finally landed in the house on Paris Ave., a 1920s craftsman house not unlike Throbbing Manor. We somehow gained ownership of a Pomeranian puppy, named Max, that became beloved by my brother, and a Maine Coon cat named Chester, who was my cat until I moved out a few years later. Max was hit by a car within months of his arrival when he escaped out the front door one day. Chester became Mother’s cat and best friend after I moved out and remained that way until she put him down a few years ago at the ripe old age of 20.
So while I had relationships with pets and people and rationally knew dying existed, yet death was often removed from my day to day life so I had no coping skills when it did happen. While I would grieve when these pets or long lost friends were lost, the grieving never last long. It was more the loss of a life rather than a loss of something I loved.
Shortly after we moved into Throbbing Manor, Wednesday had a seizure. Within a couple of months, she would have a few more seizures and shortly after, benign lumps would be found on her spleen and removed.
The seizures, idiopathic in nature, had no warning signs. The last one she had was last summer while we were up at Throbbing Cabin. I had spent the night with her in my arms, tucked in like a baby, while the seizure did its thing. This was a growing concern as they would increase as she got older. She also had benign fatty deposits on her body, that while not fatal, could become more cosmetically problematic as she aged. Prednisone could destroy her liver. She was a ticking time bomb.
In the three years since the first seizure, she would come perilously close to death many times only to have a miraculous recovery. And in those three years, I grieved numerous times over when I thought it was time to let her go. I knew this was coming and we were living on borrowed time. That’s the funny thing about pets – they are fine until they are aren’t. They are not like humans in there is a progression with an illness. It would just hit you fast like a truck.
Against the prediction of the vet, Wednesday rebounded when we upped her Prednisone during her last week. But I knew this was a temporary fix. A very minor temporary fix. Even on the upped dose, she had maybe three months left before her liver would fail, or she slip on the wood floor and break a bone and not feel it, or something equally worse. She had had no control over her facilities and no feeling in her back legs. She would lie happily in her own shit and had no idea she had defecated herself.
The vet had told us this appointment was not a permanent appointment. We could cancel it any time. We came tantalizingly close to canceling the appointment during the week as Wednesday seemed to improve, but I knew it was time. I could bear cleaning up her shit and piss, but I could not bear the thought of her being in pain or her liver going out or her breaking something, a real fear TheHusband and I often discussed. We came even closer to canceling when the weather shifted and we were slated to get 5-8″ of snow Saturday morning.
We agreed Wednesday had attempted to make a deal with the devil.
They had us in a private room, and I could hold her or they could take her away. In respect for her, I wanted to be there when she died. They put a catheter in her paw with a sedative, so when they brought her back to me, she was snoring in the vet’s arms. Two shots would be injected vis the catheter, the drugs whose names I cannot remember, but her death would be peaceful. And quick.
Within seconds of the second drug was injected, I felt her last breath leave her body. I was petting the unicorn bump on her forehead when she died and I remember gasping in the fastness of it all. One minute she was in my arms, pawing at my hand to get comfy on my lap, and the next she was frolicking in the fields over the rainbow bridge.
TheHusband, supportive of my decision, was a pessimist about Wednesday’s illnesses over the years. He warned he was prepared for her death because he had many pets over the years who died and while it was sad and painful, it would be okay. It was just a pet.
Except.
Except, it didn’t work out that way. He cried when I cried, and if he cried, I cried. He panicked when we got to the vet because he didn’t know we would be with Wednesday when she died. He thought we would hand her over and leave. He choose to support me by staying in the private room with us, but he did not watch her die. And I was okay with that.
We had packed up all the unused food and medicine and donated it to the vet for families and pets who could use it. We had decided to keep Wednesday’s dog bed and food/water bowls in case we opt to get another dog later in the future.
The drive home was somber.
My brother and his girlfriend picked us up shortly after we got home and we went on a all day drinking spree across the city. Four pubs in nine hours, we came home late Saturday night with our hangovers starting and our sadness permeating our actions.
Our sleep was broken Saturday night, partially from drink and partially from unsurety. There was no 20lb lump keeping us apart and we were stumbling on how to cope. Sunday morning brought awkwardness. No dog to walk meant no we didn’t have to jump out of bed when our eyes opened.
After my allergy testing in the fall of 2011, and discovering I was allergic to lots of things including dogs, which forced our hand to be more vigilant in how our laundry was done. Comforter was steam cleaned by the dryer, along with the pillows, on a regular basis. Sheets rotated at least weekly, but more like bi-weekly. I was acclimated to Wednesday’s dander but coupled with the beefed up cleaning schedule, I was still plagued with the occasional hives and itchies.
It was the weekend, of course, for us to do all of those things. TheHusband gathered up all of Wednesday’s beds and steam cleaned them and packed them away. We washed her leash and harness, along with her food and water bowls, and packed those away as well. Her stuffed pug, the one she got when she was young pug, was washed and will now live on pillow mountain, where Wednesday would rightfully be.
I put Wednesday’s name tag on an extra long chain so it would be close to my heart.
We spent Sunday in enlonged periods of silence as we worked. There was no herding to the bedroom when it was time for bed, no impatient waiting at the top of the stairs as we came and went from the basement. No truffle hunting in the kitchen for the crumbs that may have fallen. No prolonged staring that was her way of begging as we ate. Dinner was a silent affair.
I felt lonely while TheHusband watched football in the Rumpus Room and I was pecking at this piece in the bedroom. I fondled her name tag a lot and tried not to cry as there was no 20lb lump who threw herself on my left side when she could get the chance. No bed hog who would plant her self between my legs at night, trapping me in.
TheHusband is taking her death more deeply then I had anticipated and I suspect in the next few weeks, it will be worse for us both. He is beginning to comprehend his constant companion, the living thing he spent 24 hours a day with, is no longer going to be around. He asked me to take down the house rules we had on our fridge, which included Wednesday specific instructions, because it was too painful to look at. Tonight I caught him trying to pet the air while we were snuggled up in bed and then we both cried.
She is everywhere in this house. I can see her in my mind’s eye at the locations I expect her to be and I can hear the tapping of her nails against the wooden floor as she followed me everywhere. I can see her drunken sailor walk speed up when she saw me come through the door at night and the roll over onto the floor for belly rubs when TheHusband stuck his foot near her.
To work through the grief, TheHusband started writing Wednesday’s obituary, beginning with her birth in Sparta in 510 BCE and so far, up to when she wrote Pug and Pugjudice. Additional chapters will be forthcoming.
She was the most interesting pug in the world. And she will never be forgotten.
xoxo,
Lisa
“Fjord Fiesta” A margarita bar for the weary bearded traveler.
“Fjord Escape” Iron age Eco-tourism.
“Fjord Focus” Ophthalmology practice.
“Fjord Edge” Axe sharpening services.
Mind the gap, where you intestines used to be!
After nearly 1000 years of failed business ventures, Wednesday decided to get back in the soildering game. She married a princess (The Danes have always been progressive), amassed an army, and attempted to conquer England.
After many failures, using her her years fighting with Leonidas as her guide, Wednesday finally conquered England and became known as Pug Forkbeard.
After conquering and unifying England, Wednesday decided to fade from the limelight to pursue her more creative endeavors. She then spent nearly the next millennium in England, traveling around the countryside gathering stories and hoarding grain where she decided to embark on the greatest writing career known to pugkind
She reminisced about her time there during an appearance on The Mike Douglas Show in 1966. Prose before milkbones
“I took a liking to England right away, something in there air there unlocked by creative juices. Probably emissions from all the rotting teeth; or the gas from the terrible food; or the terrible weather; or maybe the the miasma of cancer vapors from the collective national stiff upper lip. Wait, why did I like this place again?”
During a prolific period between 1589 and 1613 Wednesday wrote 37 plays and 154 sonnets whose imprint on the English language and world culture cannot be overstated.
Among the most famous words in world literature is the opening soliloquy to Wednesday’s theatrical masterpiece Puglet:
To pee, or not to pee, that is the question– Whether ’tis Nobler in the loin to suffer The Stings and Arrows of distended bladder, Or to take Arms against a Sea of urine
No comment, my wife will hit me if I say what I think of Pug Austen
Wednesday’s coffers finally filled from her scheme as a grain trader and playwright, decides to to take the opportunity to focus her considerable talents on writing novels.
Between 1811 and 1816 she wrote six novels, which would become definitive classics: Pug and Pugability Pug and Pugjudice Pugsfield Park Pugga Pughanger Abbey Pugsuasion
Excerpted from Pug and Pugjudice:
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single pug in possession of a pizza crust, must be in want of a drink.
Wednesday famously suggested the real reason her sister Cassandra burned her letters from that period. “I was having an affair with Lord Byron AND his half-sister Augusta Leigh. Can you imagine what would have happened to my work if that had gotten out? No one would have ever believed my books were written by, ‘A Lady!'”
Next chapter: Wednesday conquers America.
Wednesday the pug was born to a poor Spartan family on July 19th, 510 BCE. Her father, Pugtroclus, was a popcorn vendor. Her mother, Cleocharia, was a river nymph. It wasn’t a pleasant childhood as Wednesday’s parents had a strained relationship. She famously spoke of this in a 1977 interview on Parkinson for the BBC: These leather shorts are chafing my taint.
“My parents always fought about money. Dad would say, ‘I dragged my popcorn cart all the way to Olympia and back. I work my ass off to put food on the table. When I get home, I just see you splashing about in the creek. There isn’t even a cold meal waiting for me.’
“Mom would reply, ‘I’m a goddamned river nymph! What does a river nymph do? A river nymph frolics! I’m sorry that my chosen profession isn’t economically viable; but you knew this from the start. You sure didn’t seem to mind all the frolicking we did when you were younger.’”
Wednesday demonstrated an aptitude for battle from an early age which is a good talent for a young Spartan. She fought at Thermopylae with Leonidas and they had a close relationship. Many a night at the pub were spent bantering about the latest play or music. The 2007 biopic Leo and Me, for which Wednesday won a Golden Globe for Best Original Screenplay, highlights one of these exchanges:
“ABBA!” Wednesday cried incredulously. “Leo, come on! You have got to be kidding me. They are terrible.“ Leonidas replied “I fucking love ABBA, I don’t care what you say. It’s a good thing the Swedes aren’t marching towards our gates. I’d let them pillage Sparta for backstage passes.”
After Leonidas fell, Wednesday lost her desire for combat. She decided to wander the world, seeking more peaceful endeavors. Eventually, she settled in Galilee.
500 years of travel left Wednesday with an empty coin purse, she noted that “artisanal” sangria was all the rage. Naturally, cashing in on this fad by launching an exclusive line of “artisanal” sangria goblets would replenish her coffers. Market research showed that anything labeled “artisanal” instantly became more desirable if it was made of wood.
Wednesday quickly signed up for carpentry classes at the local community college. The course was taught by a sweet, patient man named Joseph. There were constant interruptions by his wife, Mary. She had some facial ticks and would randomly repeat certain phrases like “King of the yews” (A pet name for her husband) and “Virgin birth”. Eventually, Wednesday got handy with the lathe and turned her first prototype. Sangria anyone?
Joseph suggested that Wednesday take pre-orders for her goblets. Renting a stall outside the temple in Jerusalem would offer the most exposure for the product. Wednesday made her way to the big city with Mary (on a sangria run) and her goblet in tow. Unfortunately, there was some sort of scheduling mix up. Wednesday’s stall was occupied by some local money lenders. Wednesday showed them her receipt for the stall and asked that they vacate the area. The money lenders also had a receipt for the same stall and the dispute soon became heated. Mary soon, became agitated by the argument and starting yelling “King of the yews, King of the yews”. The money lenders heard something seditious and reported Wednesday to the authorities.
Shortly after, Wednesday was arrested and sentenced to death by crucifixion. Luckily for Wednesday, her half river nymph heritage allowed her to hold her breath for hours on end. Nullifying the normal suffocating effects of her sentence. This is boring business, so, after a few hours, Wednesday took a nap. The authorities mistook this for death and Wednesday was able to escape her shallow grave. Regrettably, the artisanal sangria goblet was lost in the melee at the temple and was never seen again.
Next chapter: Wednesday travels to Scandinavia, rules England, and writes her best seller, Pug and Pugability.
Dear Internet,
Here is your curated monthly round up of stuff on library/technology/gender, covering many -isms and spaces. Citations are pulled from writer’s about pages. If you have an alternate preference, please let me know! As always, check out the #LibTechGender project for even more.
