Batgirl was not part of this quiz.

Usually on these sorts of things, I have fairly equal distribution, but apparently I am so much like Spiderman, it's scary.

Maybe I'll have something more insightful to post later this week.

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 95% Robin 57% Iron Man 55% Superman 50% Wonder Woman 45% Supergirl 40% Batman 40% Hulk 35% The Flash 25% Catwoman 20% Green Lantern 10%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero am I?" quiz...

Stage combat and old journals

Lately, I've been all dramatic about my life - about things like indecision, infatuation, school-related stress. Now, I'm at home, and last night and today I was leafing through old journals. And I was reminded of the actual hard things I've gone through--really hard things. At this point, I'm relatively stable and sane. I'm making my own way. There are lots of people that love me. I get to go to class and talk about encyclopedias.

I'm not saying there's nothing left to improve upon, or that everything in my life is somehow resolved. (Ten hours with my dad is proof of that.) I just need to remember the bravery of my old self and of many people I know (especially my mother), and to quit whining. I should be using that energy to create some small amount of change, or at least to communicate better/more.

To make this post slightly less navel-gazing, why don't I tell you how I enjoyed The Pirate Queen, a musical in its pre-Broadway run in Chicago. There were some interesting themes about feminine power. Also Irish dancing and, um, pirates.

Questions of travel.

"I really can't believe it all. Not only are there highly impractical mountains all around with clouds floating in & out of one's bedroom, but waterfalls, orchids, all the Key West flowers...."
-Elizabeth Bishop, letter, February 14, 1952

Last night, I went to hear Jane Mirandette talk about founding the first lending library in Nicaragua. (Libraries there were previously non-circulating only.) It's an amazing project, and I recommend that if you have time, money, or books to give, to give those things to the San Juan del Sur Biblioteca Móvil.

Jane said she went to Nicaragua on vacation and stayed, and soon "knew" that she was meant to be there, that she was meant to end up there. This struck me and stuck with me, especially because my only pleasure reading lately has been One Art, a book of Elizabeth Bishop's letters. Bishop did the same thing. She went on vacation in 1951 to Brazil, got horribly sick, and when she got better, found that she really didn't want to leave. She stayed for fifteen years.

Part of me (okay, a big part) finds these stories incredibly appealing. I came home last night all starry-eyed. I wanted to go to a South American country, fall madly in love (as Bishop did) with someone who would both love me and financially support me so that I could start a library and write poems. More than that, maybe, I want the feeling that I was meant to end up somewhere.

It also gives me pause to remember that the other Elizabeth's story didn't exactly turn out happily ever after. She was happy while she was there, though.

EB in 1954:


not stealing...
The EB picture is by J.L. Castel and comes from the Vassar College Archives & Special Collections website.

Some librarians have some resentment.

I pretty much have no time, since I've been staying up late and having great conversations with people, and haven't been working on final papers. I did come across this, however, when actually doing research for a paper. And I had to post it.

Why You Should Fall to Your Knees and Worship a Librarian

A good day for Democrats and manual labor

I had to post because this afternoon, in the small library where I work, the two librarians and I put together a book truck. We screwed in the shelves, applied the cranberry racing stripes (I kid you not), and had it rolling in an hour, all while discussing same-sex marriage ballot initiatives and various members of the Simmons faculty. I love my job, and the people there. I'm learning all the things they don't teach you in library school, etc.

Speaking of ballots, I cast mine today - or rather, fed it into a scanner. Deval Patrick was elected, as were John Yarmuth in Louisville (SO exciting), Baron Hill in Indiana, Ted Strickland in Ohio, and Bob Casey in Pennsylvania. Of course, post-election giddiness will not suffice. How about perhaps, getting some work done? Yes, I'm Elizabeth and I still (somewhat) believe in democracy. I even write to my representatives in Congress. What can I say? I'm old-school.

However, I must protest that Massachusetts apparently does not give out "I Voted" stickers. Come on now...there has to be a little incentive, a little visible way to declare your superiority to others.

Turning over old leaves

Apparently, people do read this blog, because I had a complaint recently that I hadn't posted lately! Imagine that. There's so much going on - I'm in the middle of a bunch of projects at school, it's a big week at work, and I had two fabulous weekends in a row (my mom came to visit; I went to Amherst).

So I checked out Fun Home by Alison Bechdel (see previous post), and read it in two sittings. It was really good; its subtitle is "a tragicomic," which is accurate. It's literary, layered, and moving. And there's nothing in it that you wouldn't find in your standard Judy Blume or Francesca Lia Block book. For goodness' sake.

When I was in Amherst I went with a friend to the Quabbin Reservoir. For those of you who don't know, the Quabbin, which supplies Boston with its drinking water, was created by evacuating, "discontinuing," and flooding four towns in this valley, which formed a natural dam on three sides, and just needed the fourth one to be blocked. It's a beautiful but melancholy place; you can feel the spirit of things that once were, and will no longer exist again.

We tried to catch leaves as they were torn from the trees by the strong wind, saying that if we did, we'd get a wish. My friend caught one, but I couldn't chase one down - they're pretty damn elusive. The other morning, however, as I walked to class, I felt something run into my side. I looked down, and there was a dead leaf sticking to my jacket. I'm still thinking about what to wish for.

This is the Enfield Lookout (I think). Photo (c) Sam Masinter, from Amherst Magazine.