It can be managed

I was originally going to waste these last 15 minutes looking for the link to Antoines blog on Sarah's site (only because I was there at the time) when I remembered that I have blogged in less time before. I am missing croquet at St. Johns as I blog. Oh well, I would love to see all the dressed up people (and have a picnic on the lawn on such a nice day.)

It couldn't be managed. Some problem arose and my last ten minutes went some where else. So now it's actually April 25th, I didn't go to the picnic and I'm so hungry my insides feel like they're collapsing. I noticed that before I started doing things like checking email and reading blogs I was happy to help anyone that came by, but after I started those things I got a little grumpy inside. I really hate having my train of thought interrupted, but that is a hazard of the job and my first responsibility is to help patrons. I just wish (for those few that don't) that they'd start behind the line and let me call them to my post, rather than walking up and plopping their books in my face like the Queen of Sheba. That's such a rude thing for me to say.

In other news I'm so excited! I've got a busy weekend coming and next week I go to NYC and I'll see my brother and spend some lovely quality time in central park and botanical gardens. I'm dreaming of 63 degree weather for all week with a gentle cool breeze, a dappling of happy slow white puffy clouds... bird chatter and street noise.

I am out of sorts.

I want to have a secret language that helps me get stuff off my chest but that only I would understand. Not that I would start to use it in conversation, that would be troubling. There is just so much that stirs around me (like a billowing black smoke) and keeps me upset and I don't know how to deal with it or express it, how to clear the air around me.

I like Fawna's expression "spontaneous whimpering" it's somewhat abstract, like an avant-garde dance. I don't quite understand it, but it creates a clear image in my mind. I can see the physical pose.

I went to a park on monday and did some sketching with John and Oddy (I believe that is his name and how it's spelled) a very amusing German guy that wants to be Irish and calls himself a redneck because he comes from a small town. But sketching reminded me of a life drawing class I had at SCAD. We had this severely obese model who would sleep through her session like a formless blob, unfortunately we had her a few times. Dear god, why? Why did our teacher subject us to such an unsatisfying model more than once? In the park, primarily at my instigation (unfortunately), we were very cruel and talked about the people there with their dogs and made some rather ungenerous surmises. It was very fun.

(A girl just looked at me like I _was_ speaking my own language when I told her where we- meaning the library- keep holds.)

My friend, and coworker, Perri, lost her dog and I am very sad. Mystery. She was an old black lab with grey eyebrows and a grey snout like an old man; she was a sweetheart.

Sometimes I feel very catty, I'll wait til a patron has left the building then make some comment that is probably inappropriate, sometimes because of a weird request or because they have a name that they were probably made fun of for in school, or their fines made me gasp involuntarily. I suck. My name got made fun of in school. Alright, here's one, some patrons (enough to be frequent) don't communicate, they come up with books and put them in front of me like I am telepathic, the only thing I can assume is that they want to check them out. I don't know anything else unless they say it. I just had a lady put two books down and turned out one was already on her account and she wanted it renewed, but she didn't _say_ that. Where do we go? I can be unpredictable. Every now and then I don't even think to tell people when their books are due, or I totally fail to listen to what they are saying (which becomes horribly embarrassing when I realize they made a request and I don't know what.) I need more integrity. I want to start to change, but based on the feelings that come up I still need an outlet. Is that okay with you, online blog? Can you be my outlet until I am a better person?

It's 49 dollars to fly airtran to Boston right now, I should do it. I want to see more places and fly more. I really don't travel enough, I think it would be more fulfilling to travel more.

It's beginning to look moody out, the rain is on its way. Which, strangely enough, reminded me of this freak traffic I experienced this morning on my way to work. 25 minutes to get to the light right off of 97 onto three, and a little past the light it dissipated without explanation. Did I miss something?

I want to be out on my bike, speeding down a tree lined path with the pressure of wind all around me, in shorts and a tanktop, no helmet wearing flipflops.

I've got just an ever so slightly hint of a headache coming on and no pills with me. But I can make it the hour and twenty minutes I have left, although the rest of my day may be shot after that if I can't recover. We really haven't had many people in today. They must be enjoying the lovely day and doing outside things.

Stevanne gave me catnip on monday and tuesday morning I brought it out for my cats and me and my mom sat transfixed for hours watching the cats experience it. It really is like a drug to them, they get high and disoriented. (Ambika got high, Kubiak got disoriented) Ambika, especially, was so much fun to watch! She rolled in it, rubbed it under her chin, pulled at it with her teeth and turned crazy and wired, when Kubiak finally discovered the catnip she rolled on her back and stretched out her paw to wack him.

I am so very, very upset! I had a hold on the movie flushed away for_ever_, practically back when they released it for hold and when I checked it today it had suddenly turned into Flyboys and someone at headquarters had placed it on April 16th. Why? how cruel, I would have had the fucking thing by now, there are only 16 people on hold for it now.

I keep forgetting to take my second break when I work eight hours, 45 minutes for lunch, then five rolls around and I didn't take that 15 minute break. Frick. I wanna go home, I'm tired, my back hurts and my head hurts, I don't want to do any work in my last ten minutes... Does anyone want to know how many times I said May 16th today? Too many.