I keep forgetting to post my blogs before I leave...

Looks like I goofed thursday when I wanted to post my blog. Surprised me to come on today and not see my most recent one.

Cool, there was a mother and daughter in who wanted to keep the yellow bands from the books because the girl likes to play library on her own.

I'm not getting enough sleep...or food for that matter. I hate eating in the early morning, I find it positively repulsive. Kind of ironic, after the comment that I don't dream about having a boyfriend, I had a boyfriend dream. It was about uncertainty, not being able to read what was happening. My dreams last night were a mess. Frick. I don't even want to sift through them.

I'm thinking about the compatibility of men and women sexually. On the surface we seem incompatible, but I can't believe that is true. It's the stimulus thing, I keep hearing how visually dependant men are... And women, we are more mind... What are we? What am I? How do they work together to balance each other? I believe it should be like a puzzle and the pieces have to be different to fit together. But I see our interests as often being opposed.

I watched the Matrix last night with Eric. It's funny how every time I see a movie I see different things about it, not that I didn't see them before necessarily, but they strike me now. It was the relationship between Neo and Trinity, mainly how she was the person that introduced him to the world he was searching for and I think because of that he felt safe with her. I am annoyed by how dull Neo's character is, even Trinity. They say very little, they barely emote, Neo always talks in a low husky whisper...what is that? I have a funny reaction to Cypher, I find him to be the easiest person to relate to, which worries me about myself... Not when he kills everyone. More for his sentiments about pleasure, because the truth about their world is it's a terrible void and the one the computers created is luxurious in comparison. Sometimes I think I'm devoid of proper feelings, but I know I'm not alone. Most people are no different. I like Morpheus, but because of the way in which I relate to Cypher it's hard to swallow what Trinity says as a retort "He set us free"... It is the truth, but I guess it pulls on some of my issues... I wish there had been more development of Morpheus' relationship with his crew, more development of their personalities. We didn't get to know some of them probably for the simple purpose of disposing of them easily without much attachment.

The graphic novel V for Vendetta just came through my hands. I hadn't really thought much about the fact that it started as a comic book. I started reading it on my lunch break and a very interesting difference popped out. Evey is sixteen years old and the story begins with her trying to sell herself for sex for the first time. There is no tv show host date, just her attempting to prostitute herself to the wrong guy. In the movie we have a different base for her character than appears in the book. I wonder why they changed it, made her out to have a cleaner start?

I feel like my life has been permanently disrupted. Like I'm a little snow globe that has had it's snow settled and undisturbed for years and it's suddenly been shook up and won't settle again. Someone, just by the sheer act of being himself has set off this domino reaction in me. My whole little set up is collapsing around me and the noise and disturbance give me little rest. I feel upset today for different reasons than usual. I'm upset about something in me that is just a persistent quiet nag on the borders of my awareness... It won't fully surface. I feel slightly dirty, but not even, I feel it impending, that's it...impending. I surfaced some really old music for my piano yesterday. Pretty intense stuff that I used to play, it's been a while. Talk about tormented, it felt kind of weird playing it, but exhilarating. Have I talked about the strange relationship I have with the piano? I can't remember. I use it to gage my progress in life, I guess it helps me tell how confident and patient I am. There seem to be so many character factors that come out in how I play. I used to feel so incompetent, clumsy, and undisciplined. I'm not sure I'm any more disciplined, I'm not even sure what that is. But I'm a lot more confident, I feel in control when I play and I'm not under this strange belief that I am clumsy and will forever be that way. I play so much better now.

There's a beautiful scene in Stranger than Fiction that made me want to cry. It's so simple. Her voice is describing this monotonous action that he does everyday, load files into boxes- the slow sound of a wave moving up the shore and receding. That is just what it sounds like, but it's because there is a reverence to his own movements. He gives it that quality. She describes it as building a whole sea of waves (something poetic like that...)

Crazyness at the Library

Peace. It's been a bit of a mad rush. Somewhere close on the heels of twelve I started getting irritated with the fact that people just kept coming up to check out. I needed a break to restore my good humor.

I dreamt that I was married last night. I have a friend that dreams about having girlfriends, for me it's always lovers or husbands... Another example of my extremes I suppose. No in between. I was moving around a table that was covered in lumps of cream colored dough and I had this urge to clean it up. There was a plastic bag and I started gathering the clumps in it but the more I added the more the bag disappeared, like it was having a reaction with the presence of the dough. At that point I was kind of like fuck it and I put the bag back down. A group of people showed up at the head of the table and I was searching amongst them to see who my husband was. I didn't know his face, but I figured him out. His appearance surprised me. He had long curly black hair pulled back in a ponytail and very dark skin, he was Brazilian, although I had Spanish associations with him in the dream (Spain spanish I mean). He had an attractive face, but those aspects, the hair and the very dark skin are usually not attractive to me. But I loved him, and he was very sensual to me. One of those dreams with really nice kissing.

Some times it seems like people are fucking with me, their friendly sincerity is surreal. I had to stop myself from laughing. Very often people return cd and dvd cases missing the disc and we have to inform them. I just had a very politely jovial father in with just such a situation and when I informed him of the case returned sans disc he expostulated "It IS" very dramatically but still jovially and I really thought he was fucking with me. But then he proceeded to apologize and state that he was terribly embarrassed. Still smiling. The other interesting occurrence today was a slightly older than middle aged lady at the return counter with a book on cd. She said she had something to report. She said she was listening to the first disc and was mortified by it's vulgarity at which point she immediately removed it from her player and broke it in two... Actually, I remember how she started she showed me this disc broken in half and announced that she did it. It struck me that it would be easy to deal with charging her for it since she confessed in a sense. But I noticed the disc had none of our stuff on it, it didn't belong in the set. I think she wanted me to know how mortified she was by it.

"I can give you the ride of your life". I don't believe it. In Baltimore on Sunday me, John and Stevanne saw a very trashy hipster in a shirt announcing something like "I'm a man whore: cheap sex here".

I'm in love with someone who's as pretty as a flower, her life gives me power so I'm buyin' her a ring... I don't know if it's life or love? I like either. The songs been in my head all day. I've always liked it, but it's really infected me recently. It's a beautiful story of transformation and coming to life. Is he telling all this to his mom? I always thought so, but now I wonder. "Oh, mom, I never thought that I could love no one, but today I'm on my way, Oh, today I'm on my way..." I've discovered feelings in myself recently I've never had before. It's exciting, in the sense that my life feels more full, but I'm also afraid because I feel more vulnerable. To open myself up to experience feelings of love means I can be hurt...

We just had a fire drill, right in time to get rained on. Which is fine outside where it's warm, but it sucks in here where it's over air conditioned. Someone got left behind, a little old lady with a walker. That's not a good sign. Laurel asked if that means we failed, I think it very much does. The alarm is a male voice that comes on and announces that there has been an incident in the library and requests immediate evacuation. Fawna told me she thought that sounded like someone had been shooting a gun in the building. Yeah,incident is not the best word to use. Something smells like mothballs, the scary part is I have the sensation the odor is following me around which kind of incriminates me, but I don't know why I'd smell like that? All the things I'm wearing are new, for a change... Where the hell is that smell coming from? Is it actually the library? In the vents? Every movement awakens the smell, like it's on the air.

Some thoughts. In some ways I am a very private person, but in others I'm perhaps even unnaturally un-private. (Impersonal? What would be the right word?) For instance physically I'm very private, prudishly so in some ways. But I like to share some of my most personal thoughts, feelings, art with most anybody. That kind of sharing I almost thrive on. I used to think something was terribly wrong with me, like I lacked some natural prudence... or discretion. Maybe it's because I know I'm sharing myself and that's what I enjoy, being known, seen... I know it's pride too, atleast with my art, I'm showing off a bit when I share, because I'm proud of my cultivated talent and what my hands can do. Not that I'm that amazing, I see my flaws very clearly. But I do make beautiful things.

Can't do it anymore, drifting...

End of the Day

I'm really concerned about my bodies ability to regulate its own temperature right now. I get so cold. I'm in pants a long sleeve shirt, sox, shoes and a sweatshirt and I'm still chilled. I feel like there is some physical metaphor at function in me. At Assateague one night the wind was killing me, I was in the same getup as now plus a towl and a fire and I still felt cold, shiver cold.

From time to time I see tiny dogs that obviously have spinal peralysis in their back legs and they are hooked up to these little wheels. (I've only ever seen this with little dogs...) But they get around so well, it seems like they always have a ton of energy. What brought that to mind was a young boy I saw who must have a problem with the bones in his legs and he has a sort of walker with four wheels and that kind of energy. At first he looked like a kid goofing around with something he stumbled across. It's a fascinating thing to observe.

I had a flabbergasting experience with an older woman earlier today. I think the word they apply is dowdy? She had a collection of mardi gras beads around her neck and a pair of very bright blue earings that accentuated them. People drift in very often and deposit items in front of me with out a word to what they are or what they want. Return? Check out? Purchase? She was one of those. Guessing on my part often leads to minor mishaps. They don't comprehend the system so my questions are misunderstood. She seemed to feel casually overburdened by the errands she had to do before her trip to Hungary. People often perplex me by the fact that their words fail to match their actions. She wanted to return two travel books and she wanted some new ones. The concept that she had to go upstairs for this rolled off her like rain on a windshield. I think she had some vague expectation that I could simply produce a couple more for her. Using all my faculties of clarification I think I managed to state what she would need to do. At which point she handed me her card and asked if she should call when she got back. I sat in stunned silence. Informed her that her account was clean and there would be no need. She then left...

There's a song by the Decemberists that was playing on my way to work, Valencia. I listened to the words this time and they were remarkably sad. Atleast, I listened to half of the song, the part where the girl throws herself in front of him as her brother shoots. So it keeps going through my head. Va-len-cee-ah, ah, ah...We'll burn this whole city do-own. I was always drawn to the Decemeberists, but I didn't like his voice at first, I do now. I find my early impressions to be something of an incumberance.

I've been reading the House of Mirth. I reached a point where the book felt too long, it was a slow descention for the main character, the climax occured so early on it felt odd for the character to just drag on and on through the story. But she has bottomed out now and become self-relfective in a way she hid from before. I thought she was going to die. Her health was failing, she can't sleep at night and she was afraid of being alone with herself. (I want to go home. My head aches a little, my body hurts, I'm cramping... I hate 8 hour shifts on my period.) I've gotten to that point in the day where I want my time to myself so everytime a patron comes up "evil person" runs through my head. Man, my last 20 minutes and I'm going to have to create a pile of new accounts. Frick.

I Hate coming up with titles

Cool, my mom found her way onto my blog. Atleast posting, I mean. I've had a nice workday. It's always nice to work with Richard at PRO, he says such nice things about me. When I came in he said he was so excited we were working the whole evening together and he'd been excited for a month. We talk about writing books and going to art school and he bitches about the work politics at this branch. I laugh too loud and everyone in the library turns to look at me.

The airconditioning is apparently broken. I'm fine, it's a bit toasty. I always come with sweaters because the branches are usually chilly. Everyone else is pretty unhappy, but I kind of like it.

The sink here is designed in just such a way that it spluges water out when the faucet runs and I get doused. I never remember this. My bright pink shirt was covered in water spots and it actually changed tone for a little while, I was worried it was stained. It's kind of like a mood ring, I've discovered. It eventually goes back to a uniform color. It would be interesting to get rained on wearing this shirt.

I was doing more internship searches and decided I needed to find out what the frick Artbase is. I tapped out. I was more reflective this morning when I came in and my words would have been more thought provoking, but I decided not to write then. Hmmm. I have to make something for fathers day that is a surprise. Nothing comes to mind. Arg...

So I've been going back and forth in my mind between hating people and loving them. (I mean strangers that I serve at the desk.) The worst one, I probably shouldn't confess this, was an old man who was probably deaf came in and inarticulatly gestured and gurgled for a pad of paper, I thought he was going to write communications to me on that pad, and the horrible thought that ran through my head was "I hate people". But he just wanted to write the info from his book for himself. I did go on to check him out later and my feelings weren't nasty then, but congenial. I don't think he heard anything I said, like the meager 20 cent fine. I wasn't going to do anything about it.

I never named any of my stuffed animals when I was a child. I never named anything. For some reason that worries me. I did kiss everyone of my many stuffed animals goodnight, every night. No, I don't know where that came from. I keep thinking about finishing Middlemarch. I can't make up my mind, I stopped because I couldn't handle it anymore, I had picked it up again and came to the same conclusion again and finally put it on a shelf. That was a while ago. I have a feeling I can handle it now, but I doubt.

I love the automatic save feature for posts. Word documents should do that. So one of the jobs I'm interested in is managing an Artists papermaking mill. I have this vision in my mind of a huge, high ceiling, old white-washed brick factory with cement floors flecked with colorful paperpulp and large vats in organized patterns and just wandering around it like a happy little girl in a red collared shirt with black lines, sleeves rolled up to my elbows weather worn blue jeans, enjoying being so young in such a place.

I'm going to Disney Land...

It's Sunday, the desk is full. It will be all day. I'm at the short terminal, the least favored. I was willing to take a tall one away from Loni, but not Nina. In my own mind youth loses. I can't do as much from here. People don't see me to check out, it feels less official, and awkward having someone at the level of your knees checking out books. And I'm the furthest from the return counter, I generally can't beat any of the others to it.

My skirt is sitting at my waist. It feels weird to have any piece of clothing do that, I'm not used to it. I like things at my hips...

There was something I remembered today on the way to work. It's strange that I can forget this, and for so long sometimes. Art is a huge part of who I am. It is my soul. My life blood, and I don't mean simply doing it. Being a part of it in all it's forms. Other peoples art, talking about it, seeing it, studying it... I was so intrigued by Alex and his love for Annapolis and the sea that I forgot I had that same love in me, for something else. I forgot myself. I find that grievous in retrospect. I long to share that with people. I want them to see it the way I do, to love it a fraction of the way I do.

I'm sick of fucking around. I feel like I've spent a good deal of my life that way. In the sense of how I conduct myself in reference to what I do. I've been so afraid to take the chance to be an artist that I haven't tried. (Written contractions are stupid, we replace one letter with an apostrophe, it doesn't save us any time, but writing it out feels too formal. In Edith Wharton's "House of Mirth" it strikes me as interesting that they separate contractions so that it would be does n't or have n't. It gives a different feel. Like capturing a hint of an accent or an attribute of the times.) I've fucked around with retail for years, because it's safe, now I've fucked around with the library. I think I'm moving to NY regardless of an internship. I think I might just look for a full time job in Brooklyn, take advantage of my brothers incredibly generous hospitality and perhaps eventually get a place of my own? When things seem established enough to do so. I like the idea of living with him because it is a huge safety feature. I don't have to worry as much about being a tiny girl alone in a big city...

I should make a real effort to pay off my debt so I don't go up with a small burden that just builds. I know I'll bring on debt initially, I don't mind. I'm such a cautious person the prospect of being less so is appealing and nonthreatening. My internship searches have been distasteful and unsatisfying. I want to find things that more closely approximate my interests. A lot of administrative stuff, or graphic design, for which I am not qualified. Even something menial, I don't care, as long as it's connected to illustration, or art or photography... I'll do the grunt work, I'm happy to, to work up. There art jobs out there, are those positions all filled? I'd love to be involved in the creative process for a movie. I wish I knew how to be, or how to look it up.

Rich makes brownies for Sunday staff at CRO. They are borderline raw today. I like undercooked brownies, but these are a little too undercooked, they taste more like the ingredients in them than the final thing, a brownie. But I still like them enough to eat more than one...

Closing thought. People with mental disabilities don't bother me, in the sense of feeling bad for their condition, it's hard to feel bad for people who are happier than most of us. But what does get to me is someone who is fully conscious and physically disabled in some way, like a child with a muscle or bone disorder who is bent and contorted but in every other way she functions as highly as other children. I almost wish her mind where as disabled as her body, her life would more likely be easier for her, especially as she gets older.

Meditations

My hearts gone out of this a bit. It feels like a desolate landscape where I write to silent readers. It's cold in here. Cold outside. A melancholy has settled over me. Yesterday was so alive, constant movement. I think I'm more inclined to work at smaller branches. WCO takes that out of me a bit. It feels so big, empty and slow.

Wow, the most interesting twins just walked in. Two intense red heads, one short-haired and sporty, the other long crazy curls and scruffy dark clothes. Their manner seemed lackadaisical, high and unconcerned, their words slurred, barely an effort to fully pronounce them. They both keep their faces up, eyes squinted like they're staring into an intense sun.

We also had a man walk in on his cellphone with his pants unzipped. ???

So there is this large, rather scary family with one of those descriptive names like Cobb who have a proclivity for producing progeny that have just come through like a whirlwind of dirty, precocious children who aren't intimidated by anything.

Time for a philosophical run... Thinking about art and it's meaning to me and my intent got this going. I wonder every now and then how much I really mean or believe what I say I do. I guess everything in my life is beginning to feel like such a choice that I lack a sense of ownership over it... I should probably try to clarify my thinking. I'm not sure why, but it seems to me if something is just in there, like I didn't choose it, an inclination, a drive, it feels like it belongs to me; but if I choose it, it doesn't feel like it's truly me... It feels constructed, or adopted- like it belonged to someone else and I thought it was interesting. There aren't many beliefs I have that come from deep inside of me. Because of that they have always felt like they aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them for a while or waiting for them to get down deep inside. It's not a comfortable feeling. I want to feel like I own the things that shape and direct my life. I don't like the idea that I'm sort of assuming they are right and following to be safe. I think I've started sluffing off more and more of the stuff that doesn't penatrate. Giving them back to the people they belong to.

Scream!

The good kind. I'm buzzing on the inside (like a bee)! Oh, I'm so excited! Camping with my wonderful, crazy friends! Someone I thought was disappearing isn't! What to do, what to do... I do want to do an internship in Brooklyn... I can't imagine it would be possible before the fall. who knows? Live in New York City, bunking with my brother. We are positively insane! But I love him for being so generous. It's going to be so hot this weekend. I'm actually glad. Better than too cold, which it was last year. Overcast, windy, cold. I'll get some good sun! feel like a little girl again. I'm going out with Ryan tonight! I love Ryan. Atleast, I hope it works out, I think he was probably a little drunk when he told me to call him. His girlfriend seemed a bit apprehensive about me. No worries, just an old family friend.

My skirt keeps crawling up my waist. Annoying. Parul needed a jump today. I love our little battery jumper, but I realize I have very little idea how to use it. We kept activating the horn. Kinda freaky. I commandeered a passing man to show us how to properly jump a car. Hopefully I'll remember now. I hate being stereotypical in that sort of a way.

I feel like I have a caffeine high. Which, incidentally, I never have. I've had to make myself focus periodically today. Started disappearing when I had patrons. Eek. That never works out.

I picked up some Edith Wharton books. I really enjoy her writing. King Lear is interesting, some things about it annoy me. The Fool says nuncle way too much and Edgar doesn't shutup about the foul fiend. Oy. I guess I'm kind of waiting for things to develop. I wanted to read it because of what John Brenner said about when Cordelia dies and Lear howls three times. So intense. Shakespeare is so intense. The human drama and the poetry! I keep catching Twelfth Night on tv. Still haven't seen the very beginning, so I need to catch it again. As strange as this sounds I really enjoy the mixed up sexual identity stuff, the turmoil and the tension. The woman disguised as a male soldier, in love with her Captain, the night in the barn listening to the melancholy song of the beggar, on the verge of a kiss because they know they both love each other. In that time there was _no_ shame in openly loving someone of the same sex, not romantically, but still intensely. I think it's beautiful! Love! Also it seemed people had no problem expressing love even when it wasn't returned. I think we tend to be ashamed to love without reciprocation now.

Something else that I think is wonderful is the seen in Room with a View when the romantic boy (can't remember his name) is clinging to the branches of a tree hanging over a hill in the Italian country side screaming "Love! Beauty!" and other things like that. It is apparently a catholic thing, but I think it's great!

Curmudgeons!

Okay, so I confess I'm starting to get into facebook. Still a bit odd to me just how it can be truly satisfying, but the doors are opening and I'm beginning to understand. I need to be able to upload pics. Sigh, I don't want to give in and buy digital... Maybe I can buy something to hook up my camera phone to? I want to contact Will Craig from SCAD. So curious what crazy things he's up to.

Want to share a pet peeve. Freaking key chain cards, one is fine, doesn't bother me. But I get all kinds of people in here who have a key chain card army. You can't scan that kind of crap!

There's a patron who's been talking to one of the full time staffers a good long while about Middle eastern architecture. It's like she's getting a free tutorial.

Oh, so I'm feeling good again. The downer mood has lifted. I mowed this morning before work. At least the front yard, which is odd, usually don't do that first. It's become a series of tall weeds and my mom has been concerned that our curmudgeon neighbors are grinding their teeth every time they see it. They mow daily... At first I could care less, but I didn't realize my mom was concerned about making tensions worse. Freaking hot out there! I wear all this crap on my face too. A mask goggles and earmuffs. Ended up stripping off all but the earmuffs. They enable me to play my ipod and mow simultaneously.

I had a fun time last night. Went to a Taize service. (that spelling is vaguely correct...) It's a contemplative service put on by St. Mary's catholic church. This was my second time. You come in to this basement room with a row of very uncomfortable benches facing a couple icons. The rows are lined with small lights that create a dark, peaceful environment. The first fifteen minutes are spent in silence then someone rings a bell and leads in accapelo(I can't even get close enough to the right word for spell check to fix it, grr) singing that resembles monk chant. All the words are straight out of scripture. I was a little disappointed about the music because it was all the same songs from the last time I'd come. I think that sort of thing needs to change up a bit. I've never actually seen catholics pray over a meal before, it's sort of weird to see a whole group of people do the sign of the cross before and after a prayer, sitting at a huge table outside of a pub.

The bell always gets me. After fifteen minutes of silence I enter something close to a sleep state because it's so peaceful.

I'm trying to fend off a migraine...