Proust: the Beginning (WOL)

I am so thankful that next week, I only have to open the library on Thursday. 7:30am opening time is insane - as are, I believe, the people who are always waiting for it to open. 7:30? What do you possibly need from a library at 7:30 in the morning?

On a non-complainy note, I found an old Proust Questionnaire that my poetry professor gave out a few years back. I thought answering that here would be entertaining - and would prevent me from having to rack my brains for ideas for awhile!

Question 1: What is your idea of perfect happiness?

I'm always fairly happy curled up at home with a book and a hot drink. I'd probably be happier had I a certain future, so let's say curling up as aforesaid after a productive day doing something that, if not happiness-inducing, is at least not ripping my soul to shreds. Ooo, with a cat on my lap. And a blanket. Yes, very satisfying.

What about you?

Ramblings

'Tis the season to be hiring - for my boss anyway. Which means it's the season for me to be training. I don't mind it too much so long as the people are nice and interested in doing a good job, which they always are on the whole. With one rather notable exception who still makes my vision skew towards red. Yes, he is still working with us. Why? Not an earthly clue, but clearly he has some pull with divine intervention because I was ready to chuck him out after the first day. Cretin.

Ahem. But let us not dwell. It generally leads to incohate muttering of also-red-tinged words.

I find it amazing every time I train how much of what I do I never actually think about. It's like I walk around working with my head somewhere off in the distance, because whenever I'm trying to tell someone what to do in a shift I find myself having to actually walk through it and thinking things like, "Do I do this? Really?" or "Wow, I can't remember walking over here every day. Have I seen that picture before?"

So I was remembering, as I set up training times, of somewhere off in the fuzzy past when I was learning under the previous library assistant. It was winter, of course, because things are always fuzzy when they happen in winter. I think it's all the steam of winter - defrosting over a heater, the fog on glasses as you walk through doors, breaths in the cold air. My point was, however, that there was a time when I seriously thought about everything that I don't think about now, which is just strange when you consider it. When did I move from thinking, "Okay, first sort the book tags, then run these to the Dean's office. Next, shelf read this section. Alright, then go the the Reserves..." to "Hm, I wonder if these shoes were the best idea, maybe I should stick to normal flats. But the boots are so cute! Still, too many stairs. I need to run by the bookstore after my shift..." The mind is a funny thing.

Mainly I wonder if I was better at this before I got good at it. Which probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but I still wonder.

Have You Heard the One

My library shift today felt like a joke. A really bad one.

It began with, "A farmer, a midget, and a Japanese woman walked into a library..."

And ended with me not being able to help any of them, because the farmer couldn't understand (in a southern monotone which I had never heard before and is absolutely excruciating in the long-term, which this conversation was) why I had banned him from Yahoo Backgammon.

The midget couldn't understand (in a perfectly normal voice, but one that continued long, long past the need for me to hear him restate his problem again. and again.) why I couldn't take his money for the printers (rather than the Copy Center downstairs, which I told him about three times).

And the Japanese woman, I finally figured out, couldn't understand (loudly; her's was a pretty short discussion, just at a high volume; now I understand how people in other countries feel when Americans travel and insist on speaking loudly and slowly in English as though that helps; mental note to self: never, never do this - it is monstrously annoying) why I couldn't give her a bus sticker.

I know I sit under a sign that says 'Information,' but I thought it would be generally understood that meant 'Library Information.' I don't run Yahoo, the printers, or the bus service - now leave me alone!

And yes, they did all come at me at the same time. I feel like I should have been mixing a martini while I talked. And then drinking it. Quickly.

Nor Wind, Nor Rain, Nor Lack of Heater

I hate being cold. With every fiber of my being. When I told my parents that I was considering going to Boston for college, they laughed and laughed while imagining me refusing to attend classes on the principle that if water has the good sense to become ice at a certain temperature we should probably have the common sense to stay indoors. One of the numbers on my pro-con list of moving to Oklahoma was: It's got to be warmer than Illinois. Why do I mention this, you ask?

The heater at work stopped working yesterday.

Yes, indeed, I went to work early in the morning yesterday, refused to take off my coat in the Reference office for that shift, then kicked the mini space heater up to dangerous levels at the Information desk, and finally - in an act that clearly represents my bravery and dedication - I went back to work this morning. A workplace that has no heat.

No. Heat.

I begin wearing my heavy coat in September. I have three sets of gloves/scarves/hats that I have been known to wear all at the same time. My only problem with my first roommate? My sincere belief that she was part polar bear as illustrated by our tussles over the thermostat. My father claims that if he set me on fire at noon on a humid day, I would still complain of a draft. When the southern baptists at my old high school would tell me that we were all going to hell, my favorite quip was that at least I would finally be warm.

I'm still thawing as I huddle under two blankets with a cup of gingerbread coffee at my feet. The spirit is mildly willing to brave these conditions, but it's easily hounded to death by the flesh smashing it over the head with a placard that reads "The hell are we doing here, woman?! It's cold!" My pay stub cannot compete with a profane placard.

I have the day off tomorrow, which is good because I'm not sure I could make myself enter a building again that doesn't inspire one to remove any layers. Though, I should probably stop looking for prospective jobs in Chicago - any place called the Windy City is most likely a bad sign. I wonder how the book editing biz is in New Mexico?

Atwood Rides Again

I finished Cat's Eye at work this morning - why, yes, it was quite the busy shift - and it was disquieting. Primarily, I think, because Atwood was playing with circular themes. As I read, images, phrases, people, kept circling through the scenes; events that occured one way at a certain point came back and played out differently again. Completed, it was as though I was looking at one of those spiral-graph toy pictures. The ones where you clamped the piece of paper inside and then ran your pencil round and round the different designs until you emerged with a sheet that looked like a cross between a Christmas snowflake and blueprints for a gear. Unless the paper slipped, and then it came out as a young child's scribblings of a mountian or trees or the sun. The brilliance of Atwood is that at times it looks as though she's slipped, that her pencil has gone careening after an errant tree, but then the picture joggles and steps back later and you see that there's an even larger circle that needed that tree to connect.

Is this rambling? It seems like rambling - confused and elated, which is how I finished the book. Then, as I was conveniently already in a library and had an hour left of my shift, I looked up 'Atwood, Margaret.' Now I'm reading Alias Grace. If Cat's Eye was playing with circles, this one is a play on forms. Already, I've flipped from narrative to poems, letters to drawings, newsprint. I don't have a grasp yet on what else she is playing with, my shift ended too soon for once, but I'm already intrigued. I like a writer who is having as much fun writing a work as I am reading it.

As there's already been a murder and an insane asylum in the book, I don't think I'm improving my 2008 vibes too much. For that, a happy note: I noticed this morning, as I was shivering and attempting to speed up the car's defrosting by the powers of my eyes burning through the steering wheel alone, that ice is not really solid. When it's forming, I mean. Goodness knows it's solid enough when you're trying to peel it off of a car. It forms, though, from little snowflakes of ice, chips of water that splay across the surface until they meet another frozen pattern and another. Then they all, apparently, form a union and fight for the right to never leave the window of your car. Things are so much prettier alone.

Let it Snow

I'm imprisoned in a library! Ah!

Normally this would be no bad thing, but I'm also trapped behind the Information desk. The situation is becoming dire.

I was supposed to work in the Reference office this morning so, without checking the university webpage, I blithely went to work. I wandered outside, chipped my way into the car, spent half-an-hour deicing it, drove around the fallen trees in the road, and walked into work.

So, apparently there was this big ice storm. And the university closed. But not the library - heavens no! But noone came in, really, because most people are trapped by tree limbs, so the seven or so people who made it here, once they got over their surprise, shanghaied me to the information desk. Now I'm stuck here until someone can come relieve me. I'm into hour 7 of this shift by now and I'm super ready to go home. Really.

The number of people who have trudged through the storm to get to the internet amazes me. Well, not as much since one of my regulars said it was this or staying home in a powerless apartment. Still. Not everyone here can be out of power, plus they're all really industrious. Who risks life and limb to come work on their research paper? I mean, I'm all for dedication, but seriously: finals are canceled for today. Take it as a sign, give this day a miss, and curl up with a hot beverage at home.

This unexpected sojourn has given me far too much internet time (What, study for my final? What language speaketh you?) and I've determined something. There are way too many cute things on the internet. Shoes and books and stationary and clothes. My pay is minscule here, internet, why must you taunt me? But I've also had time (Plenty of time, if time were money I could buy that shirt I saw at Anthropologie. Wait, or is the phrase 'time is money'? Because that wouldn't work at all - at this job, it would have to be 'time is peanuts.' Which doesn't make any sense whatsoever.), and I've decided that I'm feeling too Christmacy to let it all end with the present wrapping. Which I did during the ice storm - festive!

So, for all those who made it this far through the unending post, here's the deal: if you email me your address and favorite/most hated Christmas pasttime/tradition/habit/experience you will get in return a lovely extra-special Christmas card! For those of you already excited, my email address is asunlitrose@yahoo.com. For those of you still dubious - think of the joy of getting mail that isn't a bill or a circular for tires! That's the spirit. See above for my email. Now come, give me a reason to make merry again.

And if it starts to snow again, promise you'll come rescue me?

A Depressing Post for Those Interested in Columbian Expeditions

I was searching for lost books in the stacks on Monday, an activity akin to searching for a pointy needle in a barrel full of other pointy needles organized by a blind chimpanzee on crack, when I realized one of my greatest pet peeves. I hadn't even known it was a peeve until this point, which I didn't think was possible. Can you be annoyed by something even if you don't know you're being annoyed by it? Hm, very zen, like that whole 'tree-falling' conundrum. In any case, I have unilaterally decided that, yes, I can be annoyed without knowing it for years. To hell with years of philosophical debate; I say yes, and yes it is.

Back to my point, however, I hate that I wasn't born knowing every written language on the face of the earth. And, really, what were my parents thinking?! They should have been inundating me with every known language since I was born, instead of focusing on that pesky 'learning-to-walk' thing. What prompted this stunning realization, you ask? The Chinese literature waiting patiently in the stacks. There I was innocently trying to find a book about Columbian expeditions, while wondering who actually intentionally found it to lose it in the first place, when I run across these books, hundreds of books, that I cannot read.

Telling me I can't read something? Apparently major pet peeve.

I love books, a fact that I'm sure you with your genius level skills of intuition have picked up on by now, and there should not be any book on this planet that I cannot read. It violates the laws of physics. Or something. Which led me to thinking about all those people in the world who have never had the opportunity to learn how to read in one language, let alone every language. Which led me to wondering how it must feel to pick up a book, any book in the world, and not be able to read a single world. Which led to incredible feelings of frustration, a decision to teach the entire world to read, and the recollection that I am a terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad teacher. All of which basically meant that I spent quite a bit of time on Monday morning standing on the first basement level of the library, staring at a piece of Chinese literature (I assume), and growing increasingly maudlin.

(In case you actually kept up with the plot, I did eventually go back to working, although I did not manage to find that blasted book. Though I did find two others that had gone missing. So does that count as a success?)

In conclusion, (yep, there are occasional conclusions, but don't get too used to it) I learned yesterday that the Historical K has been accepted into Teach for America, where she will go to Houston's inner city to teach kids how to read, so I now know where I'm going to donate my money once I'm rich and famous. Or maybe at any point where I have money that doesn't go directly to keeping me alive. If I can't teach, I can at least help those who can, right?

And I enrolled in a beginning Chinese course for the spring semester. One language at a time, I will take over the world! Muah, hahaha. And then I will institute mandatory literacy for everyone. And tea. Tea for everyone. Whoo, I've already gone mad with power!

Desk Time

Classes started up again, so I've been dealing with the backlog of people who are wither new and don't know how the system works (understandable) or people who have managed to forget everything over the summer. Well, or they did no research whatsoever in previous years, which I find sad, but believable.

Anyway, we're busy! Yea! I guess. I like having something to do and helping people, but sometimes I just wish the questions were a little less repetitive.

None of which has anything to do with the story that I have to share. So there's this one regular character who always comes in for a guest login. He seems fairly normal, for a regular, though he has the habit of talking extremely quickly. About everything. And he changes subjects a lot, too. But he's nice and he always smiles when he sees me, so I'm alright with him.

Anyway, today sort of shook my belief that he might be mostly sane. He came in and was excited to see me (since I've been half-timing it over at the Reference office, my hours at the desk have been cut), so he's chattering away when he knocks over the display. No problem, I tell him, he is not the first person who has done that and I can fix it easily. He gets really even more excited, which I didn't think possible, and says, "Oh, I'll fix it, I'll fix it, I did it, didn't I?" He puts all the cards back in and goes to stand it back up, which is nice of him. But then he keeps putting it on sideways and then laughing - really loudly - when it falls over! Finally I reach over and put it up straight; he acts relieved that it's fixed and heads off to a computer.

Such a strange encounter. I am not ready for this at 8am.

Meanwhile At the Office

So living with two people isn't that terribly different than living with one, I have discovered. Well, I mean, logically there is greater finagling over the bathroom. :) But, other than that, we cohabitate pretty darn well, I do believe. I suppose it helps that we all have insane schedules and aren't even home all that much.

I started cross-training in the Reference office today, which mostly consisted of me trying to figure things out without asking too many questions of my lame boss. I mean lame in the literal sense - he got himself kneecapped by a drunk in May and just returned to work a few weeks ago. I try not to impose upon the hobbling guy too much, but he did have to show me around the back of the Circulation area to where the Reference department hides the reserved section that I have to update periodically. It's only been one day and I've already discovered more to the library than I ever knew existed! I thought I was pretty conversant with all the levels and hidden staircases, but there are office sections that I never suspected of existing before. I think it's kind of cool, that the working parts of the library are so well-hidden that you never get the impression you're in a very peculiar sort of office building.

If you couldn't tell by my blabbing, I love the Reference job so much more than the EIC desk. I actually do things! Things that don't involve telling people for the millionth time how to print or where the Library classrooms are located. I wish I could completely transfer, but for now I'm stuck working both posts. Maybe I will grow as tired of the office, though, after I've worked there awhile. It could, I suppose, simply be the new experience, but I actually enjoyed the sorting and wandering amuck and filing, so I don't believe my opinion will alter.

If it does, please do me the favor of not mentioning this post. Who am I kidding? I'll probably mention it myself and laugh at my naivete. "You silly girl, how little you knew then, of the wide ways of the world, of the flight and fall of human emotions!"

Um, wow. Maybe I should get some sleep.

A Beginning

I think that everything has settled out nicely here, though I do want to add some websites and whatnot. Which is nice, because it gives me something to do at work - where I am now.

Yep, working here in Libraryville.

I'm bored. But I think that probably goes without saying.

I'm sure I'll regret those words next week, once the freshmen begin rolling in with questions designed to make me believe that they have truly never stepped foot inside of a library before.

For right now, though, the only things I have to worry about are the construction workers roping off computers with abandon and why my earplugs won't stay in.

And why there is a latex glove over the fire alarm.

Oh verily, bliss, indeed.