Pandora, New Orleans

I mean this subject line to be read like a list, like: 1.) Pandora, 2.) New Orleans. Not like City, State (City?), though I think a town named Pandora would be perfect, situated inside New Orleans as Vatican City is inside Rome.

Today is the first real day I've sat down to do the work I will be needing very, very soon, as classes begin on Monday. Yesterday, I was at a pre-semester, administrative "duty" day meeting at school. My co-worker, Jenyo, wrote a very nice blog post on this today, so I hope you click on the handy link I've provided for you. Aside from this, I have done very little to prepare for classes, now visible on the horizon. So, this morning, I got up earlier than Todd, made coffee, fed the pets, did the crossword puzzle, took a shower, and even got dressed in non-pajama wear. I was at the computer in my office at home already considering work by 9:30, which is quite good for someone who, a week ago, hadn't even gotten up yet.

I couldn't get started, though. Suddenly it became important that I check and re-check my email, talk on the phone for long periods of time (I don't even like talking on the phone very much), shop on-line, play solitaire, have an early lunch, play with Ramona, stare into the medicine cabinet deciding how long it would take to clean it out. During this Olympic period of procrastination, I decided that creating a new Pandora station would be in my best interest.

I love Pandora, and I learn so much about my own musical taste that it almost makes me feel smarter to listen to it. Before this site, I had no idea that I preferred "mellow rock instrumentation, folk influences, mild rhythmic syncopation, acoustic sonority and major key tonality" while I was writing College Writing II Syllabi. This particular description was invoked when I created an Iron & Wine station. I also have a Jack Straw station, a Kate Bush station, a Prince station, and a Cure station.

Nearly 8 hours later, I've completed the syllabi, which required about 2 hours of actual work. There's all the proof you need that Pandora can work wonders on productivity. The best news is that throughout this whole process, I've expanded and have nearly completed my "best albums of 2008" blog posting ideas. I hope you stay tuned for this exciting potential development.

Now, to New Orleans. A city requiring me to say nothing about it, as all the great things I could say about it have already been said. It's a spooky, sexy, historic place -- voodoo, absinthe, gumbo, coffee, music, water. I was there with my in-laws the July right before Katrina. We took a cab from the train station and the cab driver told us about the legendary "big flood" that, as of then, hadn't ever happened. He talked about how possible it was that the levees we drove past would break and how much of everything had the potential of drowning. He talked about knowing he'd leave but probably come right back if it ever happened. Three weeks after we got home from our trip, it did happen.

Though I probably wouldn't recognize him if I was in his cab again, I am going back to New Orleans in April! I had an abstract accepted as a part of a panel presentation that I'll give along with one of my co-workers, Shari Neece, and her friend Dano at this year's at the Popular Culture & American Culture conference. I expect much of my semester will be spent thinking, worrying, and laboring over the putting together of this paper. I'm very excited by the idea, however, so I'm hoping for good things. Here's the abstract, for your enjoyment. Any and all comments, suggestions or smart-ass remarks are welcome:

Defectors From the Petty Wars:
The effects of travel and gender on Joni Mitchell’s Hejira and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road

The differences between Jack Kerouac’s novel On the Road, written in 1951, and Joni Mitchell’s album Hejira, written in 1976, are numerous and apparent, not the least of which are the genres and the 25 year span of history and cultural evolution which separate the two. The similarities, too, are numerous, though possibly less apparent. Both works emerged out of cross-continent road trips in a post-war America. Both works push the boundaries of convention within their chosen genre -- Kerouac in fiction, Mitchell in folk music. Both examine “the road” as a metaphor for self-exploration and use jazz to echo the freedom and profundity found on their journeys. Both works are driven by the conflicted narrative voice of an artist who struggles to find acceptance in a society that doesn’t always consider creative output to be a measure of success. Within this common struggle, these two voices distinguish themselves as uniquely male and female. Kerouac’s novel has been repeatedly criticized for being misogynistic, while Mitchell’s album has been lauded for its feminist perspective. Keeping in mind that the artist has little control over how outsiders perceive and judge their work, how much of an effect does gender have on these two similar accounts of an individual’s quest for self-definition?