Through a Glass, Darkly

I have been in some discussions lately about censorship and freedom of speech, mostly because of those Time and NYT articles about Sarah Palin and banned books and I am not getting into all of that here because that’s not really what this blog is about. You should just know that I do care passionately about freedom of speech, about keeping books on the shelves. I care because those things enable me to freely say what I believe, and because of that, I defend the rights of others to say things I deeply disagree with.

In one of the classes I am taking, we just read the ALA Freedom to Read Statement. It ends with the following words, words that gave me goosebumps because I found them so inspiring:

We state these propositions neither lightly nor as easy generalizations. We here stake out a lofty claim for the value of the written word. We do so because we believe that it is possessed of enormous variety and usefulness, worthy of cherishing and keeping free. We realize that the application of these propositions may mean the dissemination of ideas and manners of expression that are repugnant to many persons. We do not state these propositions in the comfortable belief that what people read is unimportant. We believe rather that what people read is deeply important; that ideas can be dangerous; but that the suppression of ideas is fatal to a democratic society. Freedom itself is a dangerous way of life, but it is ours.

Somebody get me that on a t-shirt. (Or maybe just that last part if the rest is too long.)

When Mike was still getting up a whole lot later than I was, we put a little travel clock in the bathroom so that I wouldn’t have to open the door and disturb him with bright blinding bathroom light to know what time it was in the mornings. Now that he and I get up at essentially the same time, the clock is somewhat less important. Which explains, somewhat, why I didn’t reset it after the time change in November. Now, suddenly, the clock is right again. It sure used to seem longer between the two. (I know it literally WAS longer, but . . . not THAT much longer.)

This week at my library, I moved things around. This is a shocking turn of events for those who know me, because I never move anything around at my house. Ever. I don’t even understand the motivation to move things around. This is how the furniture fits in this room. I thought it through before I put it here, and here it will stay. End of story. But, no! At work, I am a whole different person, one who moves shelves around (okay, no, before you ask, I did not move a shelf by myself. Or at all. But I had someone else move it for me)! And shifts books! And cleans out old artwork! (By old, I mean the students who created it are now in college!) And hangs up new posters! I rock and roll. People keep walking in the door and then stopping, confused. But, overall, I think it looks great. Don’t worry, though. I won’t be trying it at home.

Earlier this week, I watched No Country For Old Men. The deal was that Mike, who saw the movie when it was in theaters, would warn me before any violent deaths. The problem is that lately, every time we put in a movie, Mike falls asleep almost instantly. While he got me through most of it, he missed the ending. Luckily, I am quite experienced at looking away, so I never saw anything I didn’t want to see (though I probably looked away for about 25% of the movie). It’s not the sort of thing I usually like, but what I did like about it was that, though it was violent, it wasn’t, to me, a movie that was promoting senseless violence. I haven’t read much Cormac McCarthy, but his books seem to be the opposite of that as they deal with themes of life and death. Instead, I think this was a movie about the progression of time and how we as a society seem to . . . almost revel in violence, as evidenced by slasher films. It was like a mirror to the audience, causing us to question the function of violence as entertainment. I also appreciated the treatment of death (it had to be death, because it is, after all, Cormac McCarthy) and how death is coming for us all. Though justice was not served, it did serve as a reminder to accept mortality and not to “blink” (as Tommy Lee Jones said he had) and miss the life that we were given. And while I was writing this, I think I just talked myself into reading the book.

Last night, I was struck by how much more time Mike and I spend together these days. We carpooled yesterday and today, we had dinner at a restaurant close to my school last night and then went to the art sale/show at my school. This week we watched movies and took walks and . . . so much of this is why I switched jobs in the first place. Now it’s time for Friday Night Pizza and the ACC tournament. Life these days? Not so bad.

Sweaters with apples on them: 1.

Sweaters with apples on them worn by me: 0. (I hope you knew this already.)

Times I sang the “Jeans Day” song this morning: At least 5. (I got to wear jeans! To work!)

Times before this week I have been jealous of Mike getting to wear jeans on Friday: However many Fridays there have been this semester, times 100.

Number of kids I gave copies of A Wind in the Door to: 2.

My happiness about getting kids to read Madeleine L’Engle: 1,000,000 times infinity. I use my powers for awesome.

Middle school books I am excited about reading: At least 20.

Things I broke: 0. (I think.)

Things I blew up: 0.

Things I accidentally set on fire: 0.

Number of kids I overheard saying, “She’s nice. I hope she stays.”: 2. (sniff)

Times I was asked, “And how old ARE you, anyway?”: 3.

Times someone said, “I’m sorry, I thought you were a student!”: At least 10.

Times someone said, “You look 15 minutes out of middle school yourself.”: Just 1.

Age I am: 28. I am 28, okay? hehe.

And, most importantly . . .

Times stabbed: 0

If you’ve been around here at all to hear me talk about my high school days, you know that the thing that made them bearable was the Quiz Bowl team. Those hours spent in my school library shaped me in so many ways, and I look back on them with pure pleasure. There’s not much else from high school that was pleasurable, so this is kind of a big deal.

I still have the shirt we made my senior year, the one that says, “There was never an age in which useless knowledge was more important than our own.” I wear it sometimes for working out, though I am always afraid to wear it too much because I want it to last, as if that piece of cotton is some kind of talisman and I can’t risk ruining it. More than that, too, it reminds me of where I’ve come from. These days I am pretty comfortable in my own skin, but back then I needed a t-shirt to explain to the world who I was. A nerd. (As if they couldn’t tell.) I wore it with my yellow shoes (of course), and I wore it in college until I decided it was too childish and put high school behind me. (It took more than relegating a t-shirt to a Rubbermaid container to actually put high school behind me, but it was a valiant effort on my part.)

(Honestly, t-shirts are still one of my love languages. I have stopped giving Mike silly t-shirts because his t-shirt drawer overfloweth, but I am still happy to receive clever t-shirts for myself.)

It has taken me a long time to feel that I have friends, that I am capable of sustaining friendships, that I don’t have to apologize for my values and interests and opinions. Part of what my high school media specialist did was start me on that path . . . by being loudly and proudly nerdy herself. I wouldn’t go back to middle or high school myself for anything, but I am excited to go and work with them now that I have something to give.

I start the new job tomorrow, and if you were wondering why, I have a t-shirt I’d like to show you. It’s not the entire reason that we made the decision, not by any means. But it’s the reason I think I can do it.

“When I left Queen’s my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don’t know what lies around the bend, but I’m going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla. I wonder how the road beyond it goes–what there is of green glory and soft, checkered light and shadows–what new landscapes–what new beauties–what curves and hills and valleys further on.” -Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

We learned something else in New York, something I forgot to mention. Mike can sleep through anything. I mean anything. Except doormen beating on trashcans at 4:00 in the morning. But traffic, drunk people, crazy cats . . . please. He scoffs at them. In his sleep. I already basically knew that he was the best sleeper ever, but my jealousy of his sleep reached new and more perilous heights. He lies down and falls asleep almost instantly. How does he do this? He sleeps through almost anything. How does that work? I had to take a nap in the park like a homeless person in order to keep up with him.

On a completely different note, Saturday morning I went running, and the weather was absolutely perfect, the kind that makes me feel like I could run forever. But, actually, since I haven’t run as much lately (though we did walk approximately 800 miles in New York), I could not run forever. But it was still nice to get out and get some time to myself.

As I was running, “Moon River” by The Innocence Mission (I know, what kind of running music is that?) came on my iPod, and I started thinking about what is happening “just around the bend” in my own life. As a good Anne of Green Gables fan, I thought about Anne and about how life is full of choices and opportunities and challenges, bends in the road that keep us from knowing exactly what is going to happen. There were times that the future did seem to stretch straight ahead of me, with things lined up in perfect order. Life isn’t really like that, though. We think that we are on a certain path, and then the road does bend, or maybe we could go all Robert Frost and take another path altogether. We can have ideas about when we want to get married, what we want our weddings to look like, our careers and when we will have children. But plans and priorities change, relationships wax and wane, and the things that happen shape us into people who wouldn’t be satisfied with that straight path, even if it was still an option for us. I will never be the kind of person who wants to beat an entirely new path (think of all the mud on my shoes!), but I have learned/am still learning to be thankful to these adjustments to The Plan, these unexpected bends in the road.

All of that to say that this is my last week at my current job, and I will be taking a new job as a school media specialist starting in November. This is why I’ve been a little quiet here lately . . . I have had a lot on my mind.

I don’t know what will happen around this bend in the road. I have been happy at my job, but I think that it’s time to make the switch for all kinds of reasons. Mike and I have been talking about this for a while, and we feel like it’s the right decision, even if it’s a hard decision to make.

I wish I was more like Anne, that I could anticipate the beauties that are to come, but right now I am a little bit frightened at this undertaking, to be honest. Frightened and excited. I hope I am up to the challenge.

The New York Times says so. Who are you to argue with The New York Times?

It’s National Library Week! Hug a librarian this week! Or send her presents! I mean, if you know a librarian. Who might like presents. Or chocolate. I bet she likes chocolate.

And, 50 Books posted this interesting story about how Yann Martel (Canadian author of Life of Pi) has started sending books to the Canadian Prime Minster, Stephen Harper, each with a detailed letter. He’s doing this to protest funding being cut for the arts. You can find out more on Yann Martel’s site, What is Stephen Harper Reading?, where he’s going to post the PM’s response . . . if he gets one.

Once upon a time, Harry and the Potters played at the Greensboro Public Library on a Saturday afternoon. I had to work that day. I did not get to go.

But then! Then Harry and the Potters came back! And I got to be there! While they rocked the library! It was a good time - their song lyrics (when I could make them out) are very funny. The consensus was that our favorite lyric had to do with not wanting to talk about Cho’s dead ex-boyfriend over coffee. I believe the song was “The Human Hosepipe.” We were, admittedly, a little old compared to most of the crowd but it was fun to watch all the kids (read: teenage girls) who knew every single word of every single song. Also funny: the teenage girls surrounding the younger brother after the show. hee.

Anyway, here are some pictures from the evening. Enjoy.

The opening band, Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin. I liked their Beatles cover.

My Harry Potter shirt and Harry and the Potters.

Harry and the Potters in action!

Harry and the Potters singing their hit song, “Cornelius Fudge is an Ass.” (Well, it was a hit with us, anyway.)

Check out the saxophone action.

Here you can see some of the fans. Those girls in the front were really into it.

Not to be outdone, Alisa and I had our picture taken with the older brother, Paul.

And, finally . . . the shirt I’m wearing to work tomorrow. ROCK THE LIBRARY!!!

(Brian got a shirt, too, a different one. He should post a picture of it, because I don’t have one.)

It was an excellent time. I loved seeing all the kids (I’m so old) getting into the silliness and having fun with Harry Potter stuff. I’d definitely go see them again. And, you know, we could only get the first CD, so if somebody wanted to get us other CDs for, you know, my birthday or something, that would be cool. It’s music for people who read. I read. I’m just saying.

That’s all for now. I have to go save Ginny Weasley from a basilisk. Be back later.

I’m not too sure how I feel about A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

“Yes?” The librarian did not bother to look up.

“Cold you recommend a good book for a girl?”

“How old?”

“She is eleven.”

Each week Francie made the same request and each week the librarian asked the same question. A name on a card meant nothing to her and since she never looked up into a child’s face, she never did get to know the little girl who took a book out every day and two on Saturday. A smile would have meant a lot to Francie and a friendly comment would have made her so happy. She loved the library and was anxious to worship the lady in charge. But the librarian had other things on her mind. She hated children anyhow.

It hurts my heart.

I’ve heard that you can always tell a librarian conference by the abundance of sensible shoes and totebags. (For the record, I carried a totebag for my notebook, my novel, and my waterbottle, but I was not wearing sensible shoes.) So when I wasn’t sure exactly where to go for my registration, I followed the four ladies who fit those requirements. Sure enough, they were librarians who were there for the same program I was. As we struggled to find any signage that might point us in the right direction, I joked that if we couldn’t find the conference room, they were going to take away our jobs. “I’m sorry, but you’re just not good enough to be one of us anymore.”

The conference itself was great. It reminded me of the things I do miss just a little bit about school (not enough to even think about going back, though) - talking about ideas and books and being around people who are passionate about the same things. I get that at work, too, but on a smaller scale. This was a whole room full of women (okay, there were a few men) who like books and talking to people about them.

I have to confess that I’d expected Nancy Pearl to be a diva or something. She has these books and an action figurine (and a new Deluxe Librarian Action Figurine with a book cart! Which I want very much!) and she’s on NPR and all famous and stuff. But she was very approachable. We went to the bathroom at the same time, and I was brave enough to make a little small talk. I never do that. She was really approachable. (Also, what else are you going to do in the bathroom line?) And now I can say that I peed with Nancy Pearl. Twice, actually. She washes her hands, in case you were wondering. We also washed our hands together.

I would tell you what we talked about, but I’m pretty sure it would bore anyone who’s not a librarian. So I’ll just say that it gave me a lot of insight on why I read and why other people read. I tested my new skills on Mike yesterday, and I can tell you that while I tend to read for character and then story, he reads for story and then character. I don’t think I could recommend books to anyone yet, but I’m a lot farther along in the whole process than I was. And it was really fun to hear that all the speakers feel the same panic that we mere mortals do when someone asks us for a book recommendation. And they probably get it lots more than I do.

In more interesting news, Michael Parker, a North Carolina author and UNCG instructor, spoke at lunch, and his short story made me laugh and almost made me cry. I bought his latest novel for Mike (it being Mike’s birthday and all) and got it signed. If it’s half as good as the short story he read, well, he’s definitely going to be high on my list. The short story was wonderful. It’s called “Hidden Meanings: Treatment of Time, Supreme Irony, and Life Experiences in the Song ‘Ain’t Gonna Bump No More No Big Fat Woman’” and is featured in New Stories from the South 2005. He’s speaking at UNCG tonight, and we’re trying to decide if we want to go.

The highlight of the day, for me, was when we came back from lunch and found that everyone at the conference got their very own Librarian Action Figure. Of course, I already had one, but it wasn’t in the package anymore, so I hadn’t brought it for her to sign. This one, though, I’m going to leave in the packaging. And she signed it, “To Kari - Book Lust forever! -Nancy Pearl.” I told her that several of my friends had bought me one when I graduated, and that they were excited I was coming to see her today. She was so sweet and gracious. It was a real treat to get to hear her speak.

And today is back to work as usual.

At least, it looks like I am. She’s speaking at NCLA this year about Reader’s Advisory (”I like this book, can you recommend some similar books?”) and I’m going to go.

What’s that? You don’t know who Nancy Pearl is?

Yes you do:

She’s the Seattle librarian who was the inspiration for the librarian action figurine. Mine’s out of the package, though, and residing on my desk, so I don’t suppose I’ll get her to sign it. Knowing me, there’s no way I would go up to her even if she was signing things, so it’s not really an issue.

Anyway, it should be fun, and it’ll be fun to say that I’ve seen her.

I personally find that for domestic [library] purposes, the Trivial Pursuit system works better than Dewey. -Nick Hornby, The Polysyllabic Spree

It surprises people when I tell them that I don’t categorize my books alphabetically or by Dewey Decimal or something. I used to arrange them alphabetically, but I quit doing that because books that I felt should be together would be too far apart. Now I group books kind of randomly according to authors that “go together” in my mind. Tolkien and Rowling and Paolini (if that kid sees this, I bet I just made his day) and Taylor are all on the same shelf (C.S. Lewis would be there as well, except we have paperback copies of his books, so they reside on a different shelf). Anne Lamott and Lauren Winner and Madeleine L’Engle keep close company. Some of my favorite fiction, like The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series and the Mary Russell series (new book out June 21!) reside on the other end of that same shelf. In the middle are books that I like that Mike got for me - Evensong and Pride, Prejudice, and Jasmin Field, to name a few. Speaking of which, where’s Jane Austen? The leatherbound copy of her six novels is on the shelf above the fantasy authors with some other hardcover editions of favorite books - Anne of Green Gables, for one.

There aren’t just my books to consider - Mike’s got all his Puzo, and he’s the one who read Eragon and Shadowmancer. We also keep Holes in the living room because he counts it among his favorites. We’ve also got his Far Side set (next to my my Beatles Anthology).

The bottom shelf is the catch-all shelf - children’s books and Cold Mountain and The Jane Austen Bookclub (which, now that I think about it, might like to live next to Jane herself, so I’ll have to remedy that). The other bottom shelf (we have two big bookcases that we bought when we moved - the only “grownup” furniture we bought for the new house) has paperbacks of C.S. Lewis and some other spiritual writings. And I haven’t even touched on the bookshelf in the guest bedroom - the one with all my favorite old paperback copies of Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quartet and the Lord Peter books and Christy Miller and the entire Anne series and dozens of other books I can’t part with (and don’t have nicer copies of).

I don’t use books as decoration like some people do. We were at Mike’s boss’s house (an interior designer, so you better believe I was looking around for ideas) the other day and he sets piles of books out for decoration. I care more about what’s in the books than how they look, although I am much more careful than I used to be about things like turning down corners and breaking spines. I buy hardcovers now, when I used to buy paperbacks, and I try to take good care of them, but compared to a lot of people, I’m not a big book-buyer anyway. (Mike would disagree, but I contend that the majority of the books I own have been purchased for me or with giftcards. I am not the kind of person who walks in a bookstore and has to come out with something.) In that way, I couldn’t necessarily relate to Mr. Hornby’s constant book-buying (though part of that, no doubt, has to do with the fact that he’s got a heck of a lot more money than I do), but I loved his thoughts on how one book flows into another (I personally took notes on several books he mentioned that I think I should look into).

I don’t group my books like he does, by Trivial Pursuit categories. I group them by how they mean something to me. It’s a system that doesn’t make much sense to anyone but me, but if you ask me where a book is, I’m pretty likely to be able to tell you. And I guess that’s what matters.

(Our CDs, for the record, are alphabetized. That’s all Mike’s doing.)

I have new plans for the evening, as In the Company of Cheerful Ladies has just been handed to me with a post-it note featuring my name. This morning I started Gaudy Night (comfort reading at its finest), but I am excited about having this new book instead. Have I ever mentioned my love of post-it notes? I don’t like to write in my books, but I do like to leave post-it notes on my favorite parts sometimes. One time I told Alisa that the swooniest thing Mike could ever do would be to read one of my favorite books and leave comments in it on post-it notes. (A la Jess . . . but I always resented him for writing in Rory’s book. Writing in books is bad.)

I brought my lunch today - just an apple and cheese, as usual - but there was a hot dog sale at one of the other branches. Unfortunately, though, I didn’t realize that was today until it was too late. So then I had to suffer through smelling everyone else’s hot dogs, and I really wanted one. I daydreamed about making a hot dog for myself tonight, or going somewhere to buy one. Well, my coworker forgot and went home for lunch, so she let me have hers when she realized her mistake. Wasn’t that nice? I didn’t even ask. She just offered. And it was very good. For the record, I didn’t used to eat hot dogs! I am growing as a person!

While doing the summer ordering, I keep coming across A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby.

Every. Single. Time. I see it, I start singing in my head, “Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else that I’ve tried . . .” This is fine, except that I will still be singing it hours later, and I will think, “Why am I singing this?” And this has happened three days this week so far.

I wonder if I’ll even be able to read the book, or if I’ll get too distracted thinking about Sarah McLachlan and how that song reminds me of my freshman year and that trip I took to Florida and how we used to play it over and over and over and I put it on a mix tape and what in the world does any of this have to do with people who are considering suicide?

So that’s the weird connection my brain has been making lately.

Yesterday I got a frantic phone call from my aunt, who was on the golf course in Florida. She was playing in some tournament or other, and they had been given some sort of game where they had to list all the characters in Alice in Wonderland. They weren’t allowed to look it up, but they were encouraged to be resourceful and use their brains. My aunt said, “My brain is telling me to call my niece who is a librarian.” I looked up the characters, asking important reference interview questions like, “Do you just need Alice in Wonderland, or do you also need Through the Looking Glass? Do you want Alice’s sister as well? She’s not actually in Wonderland, but she is mentioned in the story.” We managed to get all the blanks on their form filled (with some extras, even) and when I talked to her later on last night, she crowed that she was sure they were going to win.

Sure enough, I just got a phone call from her and her team was victorious (she said they didn’t do so well in the golf, however), and she saved her part of the prize for me. She said some people were asking her if she cheated, if she got on the internet with her cell phone and looked it up, and she said that she responded, “Did you think to include Through the Looking Glass? Did you remember Alice’s sister?” and that apparently shut people up.

I am undecided as to whether it’s actually cheating or if she just made good use of her resources. Either way, I am pretty proud of myself for coming up with all the characters. hehe. (And, since this is statistics month, I got to count it as a Reference transaction!)

I was talking with my friend Marie-Claude shortly after finishing the first draft of this book. She said, “Speaking of encyclopedias, I have to tell you this unreal but true story. You know my friend ——, right? Well, she used to work at Encyclopedia Britannica. She was working on a new edition. And I’ve actually seen this at the library, so I promise you I’m not making this up: On the spine of volume 8, it says Menage-Ottawa. That was her doing. The editors apparently never picked up on it.” I ran to the library to see for myself. -Amy Krouse Rosenthal, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life

There’s a little photocopy of the spine in the book, but obviously I had to check it out for myself. And it’s true! Our EB has Menage-Ottawa, too! I showed my boss, who couldn’t stop laughing, and he showed the director. Now I am going to get the reputation of a troublemaker. hehehe.

It’s too bad A.J. Jacobs didn’t know about that. I am sure he would have enjoyed that fun fact.

I have said before that I don’t have much to post when I am not reading anything. I would like to amend that statement. I don’t have much to post when I’m not reading anything I love. I have read a lot lately, but nothing that I feel really passionate about. I started The Red Tent yesterday, though, and I am about 1/3 of the way through it, so it should hopefully spark some thoughts. I didn’t love it the first time I read it, which means I’ll probably have lots to say about it. hehe.

My days are feeling pretty routine. Get up, get ready for work, drive to work while listening to Sam Phillips, order books, work on the reference desk, go home. It’s a good routine. I like my new position - I realized recently that I am a great person to be doing the ordering, because I love looking at new books. I love opening the boxes when they come in and seeing them in such pristine condition. I love being one of the first people to look at them. Trying to order the correct amount of books and choosing what we’ll have is scary, but I am very much enjoying it so far.

Life isn’t all that exciting these days, but that also means it’s not too angsty or upsetting. I have time to read and to work on my scrapbook. Mike and I are enjoying his last few days before his semester starts. We’ve seen some good movies. It’s mundane, but it’s also beautifully peaceful. I can live with that.

I was flipping through one of the catalogues here at work, looking at some books that are going to be published in March, and what did I see?

Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott

I actually said, “Good googly moogly!” in my head. This is good news indeed. (And what a great job I have.)

Right now I am reading a book I’ve been looking forward to for a while: The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs. You may have heard of it - it’s the one about the guy who reads the Encyclopedia Britannica all the way through. It’s truly one of the funniest books I’ve read in a long time. As he proceeds through the alphabet, he tells hysterical anecdotes about how he keeps trying to show off by using knowledge that he found in the EB. And he talks about how he and his wife are trying to get pregnant. And he tells really funny stories about working at Esquire and points out how much syphilis is in the encyclopedia and makes some interesting connections. I keep reading sections to Mike because they make me laugh out loud. In fact, last night I couldn’t sleep and I was reading on the couch downstairs and I kept laughing. A book has to be pretty good to make you laugh at 4:30 am. Anyway, I’m only in the H’s, but I would recommend it very highly.

I have a big list of books waiting after that, because a lady here at work recommended a few for me. I haven’t gotten as much reading done lately as I wanted, because of holiday parties and being out of town and such.

Tonight the Shearers are coming over so we can watch the Extended RotK on our big screen. I am really excited - Mike has already watched it, but he won’t give me any information about the new scenes. I know I could look it up, but I’d rather hear it from someone I know . . . which is why I got Scott to fill me in. hehe.

I’m working tomorrow since I got last Saturday off to go to Nashville. I have been confused all week as to what day it was since I had Monday off. I am looking forward to 5:00 pm tomorrow, that’s for sure.

So, most of you know, but for those who don’t . . . yesterday I sprained my foot. I am still not exactly sure what happened, but here is what I think happened. One of the other ladies here at the library asked me to give her backup at the desk, so I stood up to head that way. My foot was either asleep or I landed on it wrong, because it turned and made this awful popping noise and I face-planted right here in my cubicle. Being the tough strong girl that I am (in my head), I tried to walk it off, and I kept telling her I was perfectly fine. In fact, I was not perfectly fine, and I almost blacked out at the desk because it hurt so much. I was sure I was going to puke and then pass out in front of the patrons. Which would have been quite a story to tell afterwards.

All the mother-figures here at work got me ice and Advil, and my boss said I had to go to the first care place before I could go to the hospital to get it amputated. This is the kind of joke my dad would always make growing up. hehe. So, anyway, I sprained my foot, but luckily I didn’t break anything. I did get the afternoon off of work, and everyone is being very sweet today. It still hurts, but I am managing.

This is the kind of situation that brings my lack of graciousness clearly into focus. I’m not very good at accepting help in these situations. Mike had to drive me to work (it’s my right foot), and I moaned and complained about inconveniencing him. Yesterday one of my coworkers had to drive me to the doctor’s office, and I felt terrible about that. Right after it happened, the lady who had asked for help kept asking if I was okay, and I kept brushing her off. I was (and am still) embarassed about falling like that, and I also suffer from the I-don’t-want-a-big-deal-made-about-me-unless-it’s-on-my-own-terms syndrome. I’m not the most graceful person, but it’s just plain embarassing to fall like that and have everybody know about it and have to help me to the car and drive me home and so on and so forth.

I am sure there’s a lesson in there for me. Something about pride. It’s always about pride. *sigh*

Yesterday I turned the corner into my cubicle and I saw this weird bug flying around. It was similar to this bug, so maybe he’s been hiding in my cubicle all summer. Great. He landed on the wall, so I did what any sane person would do: I took off my shoe and waited for him to stand still so I could smush him. Unfortunately, just as I was standing there holding my right shoe menacingly, the IT guy came around the corner to ask me something.

Seriously, no one ever comes into my cubicle unless I am doing something that looks a little odd like that. Why, God, why? hehe.

(He did offer to kill whatever I was hunting, but by then it had crawled behind my bookcase. He helpfully noted that it would probably breed back there. And then refused to switch cubicles with me.)

Annoying or not?

My personal favorite:

He organized librarian conferences (starting in 1876), the biggest geek meetings to take place before Star Trek Conventions (which began in 1972).

(And, hey, as one of my coworkers said, I’m not crabby all the time! hehe.)

This is my first post from my new work computer. I love him already. His name is Fred. Yes, I gave him that name myself. I even made him a sign that says, “Hi, I’m Fred! Nice to meet you!”

No, I’m not surprised that my coworkers stop talking when I enter the room. No, those surreptitious glances don’t surprise me, either.

Moments ago, a nice man came up to the reference desk and asked for a book on “caring for . . . a shrubbery.”

Unfortunately, no dramatic chord played, and I completely missed my chance to say, “Agh! No! Never! We have no shrubberies here.”

I’ve got to be quicker on my feet.

If you were going to be in a book club, what book(s) would you like to discuss?

I have to work within the confines of having enough copies of the book, but don’t worry about that when you make your suggestions.

I am still working on finding the perfect librarian wardrobe. I need more twinsets and that kind of thing. And I definitely need more khaki pants. Actually, I need more pants in general. My lack of a wardrobe means that I tend to wear the same stuff a lot. Not today, though! Today I have on a cute little skirt and a red sleeveless top. Woo-hoo! I thought when I looked in the mirror this morning. I look cute!

I still think I look cute, but now I am starting to doubt. No one here at work has mentioned my attire. This is only the second or third time in 6 months that I have worn a skirt to work. But apparently no one has noticed.

Either that, or I look not as cute as I thought.

Ah, insecurity, my friend, welcome back.

This morning on NPR I heard a segment about Sandra Cisneros, an author, discussing her use of language and what influenced her style. What I found so interesting was how she remembered visiting the Chicago Public Library as a child and looking in the card catalog. She saw that some of the cards were more dirty and dog-eared than others, and she wanted to read those books, because they must be great, important ones. From there it was only a quick jump to wanting to write her own books, books that would have their own dirty, dog-eared cards.

That made me kind of sad, because we just don’t live in that world anymore. I’m not bemoaning technology, because as a librarian I am incredibly thankful for computers and boolean searches and OCLC. But, when the catalog is on a computer, we can miss out on the human aspect of accessing information, or the serendipity of flipping through the card catalog and running across exactly what you need. We might be more exact, and it is certainly easier, but it is also more impersonal.

There’s a journal on my desk entitled “Books to Check Out.” I keep a list of stuff I would like to read in there, jotting down titles or authors as I come across them. The cover looks like the inside of an old library book, with all the due date stamps. We don’t do that anymore, either. It’s not really good for the books. My university did it, though, and I remember the fun of checking out a book that hadn’t been checked out since the 60s. I guess that’s another human aspect that has faded away.

Enough reminiscing about the past. Since I’m already talking about the library, this seems like a good time to give a job update. I have now been at my job six months(!!!), and I had my review at the end of last week. It was a good review, and very encouraging (and now I can use vacation time! yay!). Not only that, but I was discussing some of the changes I’ve made on the website with one of my coworkers, and she said, “I’m so glad you’re here.” It is nice to work in an encouraging, affirming environment. I am glad I like my job. It was a long, hard road to get here, but I am thankful to see how it has all worked out.

A patron just came up to the desk and asked if we had any books on winches.

Not being the most tool-inclined person, what did I hear?

“Do you have any books on wenches?”

Luckily my filter was on, so I did not in fact ask why the boy wanted books on prostitutes. I asked him to spell it, and he indicated that it was a tool, so I quickly went to dictionary.com to see what kind of tool it was. Danger was averted, albeit barely. Nothing to see here.

(If you were wondering, we have no books on winches. Or wenches.)

I have an origami zoo on my desk. One of my coworkers likes origami, and she has a tear-off calendar with an origami-a-day. I currently have a penguin (my corner is the coldest in the building, so the penguin keeps me company), a carp (the symbol of strength - she made it when I made it to work in the snow one day), and a peacock (as far as I know, there’s no particular reason for the peacock). I had a frog for a while, but I gave it to my niece and nephew. If you pushed down on the back of it, it would hop. I, much to my sister-in-law’s dismay, showed them how to make it hop from the counter all the way to the table. Color me a bad influence.

I also have a star that could be a Christmas tree ornament, and an origami house to congratulate me on our new house. Even though we don’t have a house yet, I was happy to see the animals now have a place to stay in this cold corner. I like origami, but I don’t know as much about it as my coworker does. But, based on the success of the frog, I think I’ll give my niece an origami book for her birthday. I was fascinated by that kind of thing when I was a kid.

My one nod to librarianship is my librarian action figure, which some very fun friends sent me in the mail.

My desk also houses a word-a-day calendar. Today’s word? Jocund. It means “sprightly and lighthearted in disposition, character, or quality.”

The only other thing on my desk (besides random papers and a computer and a phone - I mean the fun stuff) are three pictures. One of me and Mike at the Harry Potter release party in June, one of me and Mike in Boone last November, and one of me and three of my close friends that is not online.

I like my desk. My dad was always a salesman kind of guy, and he never had a desk. I always wanted him to be like the other dads and have a place where he could proudly display my picture (of course, the grass is always greener - my friends were jealous that my dad had lots of candy in his truck and in his warehouse). I am glad I have a home base here, even if I have to share it with so much wildlife.