Stressed Out

I've stressed myself out to the point of sickness. Headaches. Stomachaches. Pain in my neck and shoulders. I do whatever I can as a form of stress relief. Crochet. Knit. Sew. Read. Color (yes, I've been coloring but staying in the lines have a tendency to stress me out.) I'd go for a long drive in the car, but gas still isn't cheap and there's no lovely scenery around here. I would shop, but a review of my finances tells me it's not a good idea.

Full Range of Emotions

I could not have been on a more cury, up and down roller coster of emotions as I have been the past 26 days. Sadness. Anger. Desperation. Pain. Happiness. Elation. Down Cast. My mom and my sister took my father to the hospital emergency room on October 1st and he's been in the hospital ever since. There's too much to describe what's happened to my dad in the past month to explain everything, but I think the phrase, "we almost lost him," covers the severity of his stay.

A gentleman called for my dad yesterday. He asked where he was. "He's in the hospital," I replied very manner of factly.

"He's still there!?" he replied.

Oh how much I wanted to say, "Yes he most certainly his. Coming close to death can keep you in the hospital for a long time."

The first week and half was the worst. His two daughter's and his wife were at his side 24/7 at the hospital. Having the night shift was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the hospital has finally calmed down. The lights are dim and it's easier to get the nurses attention if you need something. A curse because it was my shift that dad seemed to get worse, and to gain some sleep during the day was impossible because all his friends and family would call for an update.

And oh how much I wanted to say, "Stop calling! I'm trying to sleep! Dad had only 46% in his blood, he's agitated, can't sleep and can't breathe well. I'm tired and fucking scared! Now let me cry my eyes out and go to sleep."

I'm the first to admit that I can't write too well when I'm emotional. Give me some time.

The road I walk

The road is long.
The road is old.
Step by step my feet take me.
No direction to go but forward.

My head is heavy.
My heart is tired.
I look up to see forever, and
Know this is the road I walk.

Homesick

I'm feeling so homesick right now that the feeling seems to dwell in my bones.

There are errands I need to run before it's dark and I don't have the gumption to do them. I don't want to be on the streets of Ohio. It seems so unpleasant to me. The green grass up here doesn't compare to the beauty of Kentucky. There are no rock fences to admire. No rolling hills of green with scattered trees to sooth me. I don't have the chance to watch horses gallop across the land. No barns to come across. I hear sirens and car horns on these streets, where in Kentucky I would hear nature. There's nothing like driving down a country road with the windows open and sense nature traveling thru the car.

Once I was in a car riding along the Scenic Bypass in Central Kentucky with all the windows open. It was Fall. A stray leaf came in from the passenger side window, traveled across in front of the driver and out the driver's window. I'd like to think the leaf said, "hello."

I miss being around my family. I'm amazed at how much strength they provide me. Being up here, without them, I feel really weak. Not physically, but still weak.

I had the strong urge to talk with Memaw. It was the sewing that brought the urge. I feel close to Memaw when I begin to sew, and at the same time, sad. The quilts she gave me while growing up are my prized possessions. I'm learning to sew now that she's gone. While finishing up my first project, a lap quilt, I wanted to call her up and ask, "am I doing this correctly?" Her phone number is still in my cell phone. I don't have the heart to delete it. My mom gave me some of Memaw's leftover fabric she never used. I'll tell you, the colors are not the prettiest in the world, but I look at them and think, "I can't waste them. I can't make a mistake with them. They were Memaw's." I want to make several quilts from them, but I'm afraid of making too many errors with them that they end up as waste.

I unfolded one the pieces of fabric, held it up to my nose, took a deep breath and I was transported to Memaw's house. I saw her sitting in her favorite chair. I felt her giving me a hug. I felt her hug. I saw her smile. I heard her laugh. I heard her say, "you're going to move back down here and take care of me. Aren't you."

I wondered how long that scent would last. How much would remain once I washed it? It doesn't need to be washed. Does it?

Someone explain to me...

Someone explain to me why after a month of being smoke-free, I picked up a cigarette and smoked it to completion. I smoked a couple in fact. I blame it on stress. They say exercise is good to handle stress, but when it's midnight, your mind is racing with "what if's" and you can't sleep, exercise doesn't seem to be the answer.

Vacation gave me the rest I needed. Sleep, read, and clean. (Cleaning doesn't sound like vacation but I enjoyed straightening the basement with all it's clutter. That doesn't mean I'm coming to your house to do the same though.) I come back to Ohio to realize I have an interview for a job back in Kentucky. I have one day to prepare and work around my schedule for this interview. In my mind I'm thinking, "Is this a courtesy interview? Do they have someone in mind for the job?" The phone call for the interview came while I was away and they were in a hurry to fill the position. I made the call Monday morning, and I had to interview the next day or I was out of luck. That's a two to two and one half hour trip one way for an hour interview. Needless to say, I was completely tired when I came back to Ohio last night.

I have another job interview set for this Friday. This one is for my boss's job. He's moving on to higher and better, and calmer places. Me and a co-worker are both applying. We work side-by-side many times. It feels odd to go up against her for the job. At first she wasn't thinking about applying but she changed her mind when she say the salary. She's married with a baby on the way. The money will help her family. As soon as I found out she was vying for the job I felt defeated. I compare us and feel that the "power's that be" will chose her over me. Shit. I hate feeling like that.

So, one job would take me back to Kentucky, other will keep me in Ohio - the land of useless nuts. (The Buckeye tree is the official Ohio tree. You can't do squat with the nuts from the tree. Therefore, Ohioans are useless nuts.) Let's do a comparison of the jobs...

Kentucky job....

• I'm back in my home state of Kentucky (+)
• I'll be closer to my family (+)
• It's in a rural area (+/-)
• The salary isn't as high as the Ohio position (-)
• I won't be working in a public library setting (+/-)
• I'm going to feel clueless in the job (-) But, I still think I can do it.
• I already have two years of retirement with the system I would be working for (+)
• I'll have my own office (+)

Ohio job....

• Higher salary than the Kentucky job (+)
• I'll still be in Ohio (-)
• I'll still be away from my family (-)
• I'll remain near my friends I've made here (-)
• The position would give me supervisory experience (+)
• I'll be in a public library setting (+/-)
• I'll have my own office (+)
• I'll be supervising people I've worked side-by-side with (+/-)

One thing about the Kentucky job, I feel my parents have very high hopes that I get the job. I know my parents are proud of me no matter if I get the job or not, but I know how much they would like me back in the state.

Vacation Summary #2

I slept in the basement at home. It was the coolest place in the house, and also the messiest. The basement is our family's attic. Once upon a time, it was fairly clean. Considering much of what is downstairs is my stuff. When I moved into a small efficeincy apartment during graduate school I had to store all unnecessary items at my parents. That was four years ago. Since then I've graduated, moved to my sisters place, obtained a full-time job, moved to Ohio an into a bigger apartment and much of my belongings are still there. I swear I'm trying to discard many of the items. If my dad would let me. He's a back rat, and what can I say, I am my father's daughter. I hold onto things. But not last week. I did my best to either give items away, or throw them away. It's very hard to do that when my dad will "save" the items I'm trying to discard. I was 50% successful.

At least the basement is somewhat organized. (The librarian in me came out.) Dad uses discarded cardboard boxes to organize everything. Overtime, they just don't hold out at our place. A couple trips to Wal-Mart and I organized many "saved" items into see-thru shelving units and rubbermaid tubs. It looks so much better, but you can barely tell I made a dent in the basement.

Vacation Summary #1

Instead of writing a daily summary of my vacation days, I've decided to write summaries covering the week.

I spent much of the week laying in bed and reading. Ten books, and one dictionary were bought during vacation. I read four of them and started reading three others. I mentioned I traveled to the local Border's bookstore which is 30 -35 miles away from home. I wanted to make a second trip towards the end of the week, but a trip to the movies with my mom near a local Empire Bookstore saved that trip. I want to ask my mom "Are you sure?" anytime she mentions going to a bookstore with me. I love to look around. And look around. And look around. I don't want my mom waiting on me. I should not have worried because after my tour of the bookstore I found her comfortably sitting in a chair reading a book.

I've come to hate paying full price for a book. I've frequented too many used books stores to feel any need to buy a title at Barnes and Noble or Borders. That's not to say I won't. If the books stands out and it say's "you must buy me," there's a good chance I will. But hope is not lost, I usually have a coupon with me. Such was the case earlier in the week at Borders when I bought The Oxford History of Medieval Europe / George Holmes. Sounds like boring reading, but I was in the mood for history. My mom looked at the title, gave a small eye roll and said, "I like for my books to have some sex in it." Don't worry mom, I've got those books too. In fact, I read a couple those over the week.

I know there are some people question me as to why I buy books. I'm a librarian. I have books at my disposal everyday. Well, sometimes I'm slow to read. I renew books 5 or 6 times (and I don't have to pay late fees). After a while I think, "Just buy the damn book." I usually get around to reading it.

Vacation Day #2

Vacation day number two was mostly spent reading. No pressure to do anything else but relax and read. Oh, and I spent time at two different book stores. There's a used paperback bookstore in town which isn't too bad. I've been going to this store since I was about five years old. Granted, then I was standing beside my mom waiting for her to finish searching for books. Now, it's my turn to be as leisurely as I wish in the store. The other bookstore was the local Border's bookstore which is approximately 35 miles away. I'm willing to drive the miles for a broader selection. I was in the mood for some world history.

Appropriately timed, I came across the book Hiroshima by John Hersey. August 6th was the 61st anniversary of the atomic bomb landing in Hiroshima. The book gives an account of six individuals living in Hiroshima when the bomb dropped. It's a very sad and eye opening account of these individuals who lived to tell their story about the bombing. Growing up, I heard about the atomic bomb and Hiroshima. I knew it was devastating, but reading about it, first hand accounts, it's tragic.

Hiroshima is a small book, approximately 150 pages but it packs a punch. After finishing this, I settled down with a trashy romance book. That one is finished, so now I'm choosing between some Mark Twain, Jane Austen, and Medieval history. But then if my brain feels overwhelmed, I have more trashy romance novels waiting for me.

Vacation Day 1 1/2

I'm back in my hometown vacationing with my parents. We're at really happening place. It's called home, and I do not want to be anywhere else. Rest. Rest. Rest. That's all I ask. And so far, that's what I'm getting. Mom and I briefly considered getting away but we had the same conclusion, "No."

Here's a log and some thoughts of being home...

1. I'm just waiting to run into someone from high school. It always happens, and usually I'm not looking forward to it. This shouldn't be a surprise to everyone. I didn't attend my high school reunion.
2. Mom and I went to Bob Evan for dinner and she presented me with the, "Don't you remember her?" I wish my parents wouldn't do that to me. I can't remember everyone from my past. It doesn't matter that I'm in my hometown. A lady who worked with my mom just before her retirement came to our table to say hi. Mom gave her a hug, they turned to me and mom asked the question, "Don't you remember her?" I looked a my mom straight in the eye and said, "Oh please don't do this to me." She was supposedly my fifth grade teacher. I can tell you for a fact that she wasn't my teacher. She very well could have been my sister's fifth grade teacher, but she wasn't mine. She seems to think I was one of her students. I wasn't.
3. Until coming home, I had not acquired one mosquito bite. Not one. That's a good record for me. In one night I about 20 mosquito bites. The majority on my calves. I woke up scratching at 5:30 a.m. and I headed straight to the local 24 hour Wal-Mart for an anti-itch cream. My legs look to have the chicken pox.
4. Saw the movie The Devil Wears Prada with my mom. There's one scene with the actress Ann Hathaway brushing her teeth. Why is it, when in television or the big screen, when we see the actors brushing their teeth there doesn't seem to be toothpaste used? It looks like they are just dry brushing their teeth. Where's the runny toothpaste coming from their mouth running down their chin and coming close to dripping on their shirt? There has to be realism with acting. People, where is the toothpaste? I can't be the only person who experiences this.
5. It's a good thing Mom and I decided not to go away while I'm vacation. That saved money to buy a much needed toilet that had it's last flush when I arrived. (I promise I didn't do anything to it.) So, Mom and I visit Lowe's to look at toilets. Mom's found the one she wants for the house, then we come across a row of toilets sitting on the floor. We were first looking a toilets up on a display. Mom is looking at the seat heights, bowl capacity (always important), and she lifts the lids. You notice the toilet seats are designed differently and I get the thought, "Oh my goodness, she's not going to sit down on one of those to test it out?" Then I have to ask the Lowe's worker, "Excuse me, do a lot of people sit on these toilets to test them out?" She looks at me and slowly nods her head. I don't know if she's slowly nodding as to say, "I know and I can't believe they do it either," or the "I can't believe you just asked that question. Of course people sit on them." She did tell me that people sit on them just to be sitting on them. They're just resting their legs. I got to thinking about my question. It would be smart to lift the lid and sit for a while. I mean, people get constipated. They have to sit on the toilet for some time. It might as well be a good fit.

At this moment...

At this moment in time, I have the distinct feeling that life sucks.

Bitch and Moan Session

My vacation has officially started but I have the sneeky suspicion that I won't rest. Right now my mind feels as if it's on straight caffine. It won't calm down. Damn it. I've had two, no three shitty days at work and my mind won't shut down. I'm tempted to do one of two things to solve this dilemma...

1. Go to a local fabric store. Buy fabric and focus on making a quilt. I finished my first one a couple weeks ago. I had a one track mind when working on it. Not too much of anything floated in my brain except working on the quilt. Almost theraputic.

2. Find a decent liquor store. Search for something new to drink. Buy a pack of cigarettes to go with it and enjoy the night on my balcony. If you've been reading this blog, you know I'm not a heavy drinker. I'll buy a six pack of Sam Adams and Smirnoff Ice and let it sit in the refrigerator till it goes bad. (Yes, Festi I had to throw 5 bottles of Sam Adams down the drain because they had gone bad.) But, occassionally I like to try something new. Also, if you've been reading this blog, you'll know I've made an attempt to quit smoking. It's been almost a month since I've had a cigarette. August 10th will be a month. I'd really like to have one tonight.

______________________________

There were two gentlemen who came to the library that made me want to scream. One yesterday and one today.

First off, would someone please tell me what I do that encourages men who visit the library to make unwanted passes at me? I don't wear revealing clothes. I don't wiggle my hips or ass. I don't flirt. I work at the library. I'm nice and helpful.

Yesterday, a man calls to ask questions about the library. "Do you have internet access, wireless access, fax machines, what are your hours, blah, blah, and blah." I respectfully gave him the answers he needed. He was a jolly fellow on the phone. An out of towner from California. He gave me his name (first and last). I said my first name. (It happens on occassion that people will give their name and they expect your name in return. They get my first name and that's it.) Thirty minutes later, my phone rings at the office. My phone hardly ever rings. So I'm thinking this must be important. "This is ______ _______." On the other line, it's him. He remembered my name and specifically asked for me. He had some more questions. For crying out loud.

One to two hours later, he arrives at the library and I'm able to pass him off to another librarian since I was busy answering another question. Fifteen minutes later he approaches the desk saying our wireless connection isn't working. (Which isn't a surprise to me knowing the head of our Automation Department is an asshole.) So I'm doing what ever trick I know to get the wireless connection fixed. He's using a Macintosh computer, the library uses PC. I only use a PC, and he seems to think it's okay to crack jokes at me that I must be a "computer snob" because I don't like a Mac. First off, Mac's fucking confused me when I first approached them. PC's became my friend when to me they were more user friendly. He has to chat and chat and say how better the Mac is than a PC. Like I fucking care at this point.

We are able to finally get wireless for him. For a short time at least. Now he's wanting to know if there are places around town that have wireless access. This CA man is expecting a lot from a small town. "Well don't you have a Starbucks?" My co-worker and I let out a laugh. "No we don't."

I've made this into a log story (sorry about that), but soon, he was asking me where I lived. He has a family reunion in the near by area. The same area as to where I live. I don't want to send him anywhere I may be in town. Because by now I'm trying to give him directions to some restaurants that have wireless access, and I've become completely confused. I'm wanting him out of the library so fast that I can't concentrate on North, South, East and West. He's got me so damned confused, talking to fast, not letting me think straight. All I want to say is, "See the door, walk out and keep going."

But, before he leaves, he stops to give me his business card (with his cell phone number he tells me) and to give him a call. I'm thinking, "Oh please don't do this. What the fuck did I do?" I tell him to have a good night.

Later that night, I meet up with some friends at a local bar/eatery/pub and tell this story. I tell my friend the event with the Real Estate / Finance broker from California. I tell her about the whole frustrating event of trying to give directions while he was talking and confusing me. She tells me, "It's called flirting." Without skipping a beat I reply, "It's called annoying the shit out of me."

That guy annoyed me. I may have had different feelings had it been a guy I was attracted too.

_________

That's it for now.

This and That...

Here are some thoughts going thru my head as well as some whatnots...

• I'm having one of those moments when I want to write, but don't know what to write.
• I can have several chapters rumbling in my head for a story but I freeze when I begin to actually write.
• It's the same thing that happens to me when I go to the grocery store (or any store for that matter) and I completely forget why I came to the store in the first place.
• Today it was the Barnes and Noble bookstore. I go to the store intent on looking for a CD by the Elders.
• I know what you're thinking, "Why are you going to Barnes and Noble to buy music?" Well, my favorite B&N in Kentucky has a section for music.
• I stepped one foot in the store and could not remember why I was there. So I decided to walk around the store until the reason came to me.
• Once it did, I looked around and damn it, wouldn't you know it, this B&N doesn't have a music section.
• I'm standing in the middle of B&N with a frustrated look on my face thinking, "Well, I could just go ahead and buy a book. No, don't do that. You have enough books."
• I leave the store, without a book and make my way to another city for Border's which hopefully has the CD.
• Arrive at store, and remember why I'm there. (I'm off to a good start.)
• Search for the music section.
• Found it.
• Alright, now I need the World Section in music. I see Country, Soundtracks, R&B, and etc.
• I was going to be pissed if I didn't find the World Section. Aha, finally, last row.
• Searching for Elders. Searching. Searching. Searching. No luck.
• I see a catalog to find items in the store. No Elders available. Well, shit.
• Now who else was I wanting. Ah yes, Gaelic Storm's new album - Bring Yer Wellies.
• Searching. Searching. I see most of their other albums, but no Bring Yer Wellies.
• Check catalog. Bring Yer Wellies is available to buy. Located in World Section under Celtic. "No it's not!!"
• I check all through the Celtic section. Damn it. What's a girl gotta do to buy the music she wants?
• Browse the store. Where am I not looking?
• I search all around the store (new big store) and finally under New Music, there it is. Sorry, there was no bright light, just an "On Sale" sign on the CD. Something at least for my troubles.

It's back

So what exactly pissed me off that I couldn't keep it written down in my blog. A library patron pissed me off. What royally ticked me off is that now I'm questioning and doubting my intelligence and knowledge every time I step up to the reference desk and work. I don't like having self-doubt. I've had enough of if during my 29 years here on earth and I'm doing my absolute best to not let it rule me. His comments just set me back many many steps. The idiot.

I will come out and admit I'm not the best speller, and I don't know every definition in the dictionary. But for crying out loud, that's why I love the dictionary (the slag dictionary in particular - it's an absolute hoot). If I don't know the spelling, nor the definition, I'll look it up.

Another thing, I stopped majoring in math a long time ago. I once wanted to be a math teacher, and an accountant long ago in college. That's in the past. Don't expect me to know all math. Even math you would assume is simple. My brain has what I refer to as "information overload." Too much crap to calculate certain equations.

And, I come from Eastern Kentucky, we sometimes have our own way of talking. Get over it. We knew "ain't" was a word long before Webster ever put it in the dictionary. You don't like our grammar, then talk to someone else.

As for history, it's only been the past couple years in which history has become interesting to me. I have much to catch up on. There are days which I don't remember what I did yesterday. Give me a damn break.

So this older gentleman comes to the desk to ask a question. I've helped him before, and he seems to like to seek help from me rather than the other librarians. Don't ask me why. Maybe I'm just nice. I'm assuming he's wanting the baseball schedule for his satellite radio. Nope. He's wanting conversions. Our conversation goes something like this...

Me: You're wanting conversions?

Him: Yes. Can you convert for me 88.1 kilos into pounds?

Me: (Damn it. Math. Conversions.) Okay. Google has a website that will work conversions for us.

Him: You mean you can't do conversions?

Me: You do not want me doing math for you.

Him: I thought librarians knew everything. You can't do conversions? Well I can do conversions.

Me: Well, if you know how to do conversions, why did you ask me? (I'm quite proud of myself for saying that to him. I wasn't in the mood to put up with him on that day.)

Him: Ahh. Now don't joke with me like that.

(We go to Google for conversions and type in the correction information. He's happy with the information except he's 10 pounds overweight and plans to loose it in one week. We work his height conversion and thankfully he's smart enough to know he can't change that.)

Now he wants to test his knowlege on conversions. He's wanting to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius.

Him: Now type in 100 degrees Fahrenheit to Celsius.

Me: (At this point I reach for the dictionary because I ALWAYS have a problem with spelling Fahrenheit. ALWAYS.)

Him: What? You mean you can't spell fahrenheit? You can't spell. You can't do math. You aren't good with Language Arts (the asshole had the decency to correct my grammar. I thought only my Aunt did that?). And you don't know history. Maybe I ought to get me another librarian.

Me: (With a sweep of my hand) Be my guest, there are plenty to choose from.

Him: No I think I'll keep you. (Damn it. For a second there I thought I'd gotten rid of him.)

For a couple days, I was proud that I talked back to him. I didn't let myself become shocked at what he said. Now, I'm just pissed.

It's gone

If you're looking for my July 12th, 2006 post, it's not there. I deleted it. If you are in desperate need of wanting to know what it was about... ask. I'll give a brief synopsis.

One Day

I've survived one day without a cigarette. Day two is almost over.

Kicking the Habit... Once again

I've mentioned a few times that I need to quit smoking. So, just to let everyone know that I'm not "all talk," I'm going to see what I can do about quiting... once again.

So that's why I made the trip to Wal-Mart to buy one of these...

I'm trying the patch. I've used it before, and thought "it couldn't hurt."

Before I started smoking again last year, I had quit for almost three years. I quit cold turkey. What helped was that I had my last cigarette the Friday before I turned in my letter of resignation at my social work job. I can't handle stress to well. I turned to smoking to handle my stress.

I picked up the habit last summer. I was stressed, bummed out, and frustrated at work and I allowed myself one cigarette per week. But then my aunt was murdered (I'm not going to sugar coat what happened, it was murder) and well that once a week turned in to at least one a night then some. Then my Memaw had her stroke in January so all ideas of quitting went out the window.

If I'm away from my apartment, say at my parent's, my sister's or on vacation, I can go a week without a cigarette. But as soon as I come back, it's what I want.

Notice the picture says Step 2. I'm not a heavy smoker. Step 2 is for people who smoke 10 cigarettes or less a day. It's on the weekends, when I have free time that I smoke the most. Working doesn't give me the chance to smoke.

I put first patch on last night before bed. I woke up with a headache (I went to be with a headache). I wonder if the nicotine in the patch added to the headache. The patch came off this morning and the headache as somewhat subsided.

One of the directions indicates... "if you have vivid dreams or other sleep disturbances, you may remove the patch at bedtime and apply a new one in the morning." That could explain why I didn't fall asleep until after 2:00 am. That could also explain why I vividly remember working at a doctor's reception desk with the assistant director of my library, and me marching up to a parent of three rambunctious kids, taking away their bottles of ketchup and mustard because she (the mother) would tell her children to stop squirting the red and yellow substances on the waiting room walls. It says "vivid" dreams. Not necessarily "strange" dreams.

Things I Enjoy....

(In no particular order)

• A book that you can't put down.
• Long drives through the country.
• Having the movie theater all to myself
• Tulips
• Time to write in my journal
• A comfortable silence with my family and friends
• Kindness
• My chili with cheese and Fritos
• Peaches
• Falling asleep curled up underneath my Memaw's quilt
• Finding unique surprises about my Memaw
• Seeing my cat when I come home from work
• Daydreaming
• Long naps
• Bookstores
• People watching
• Learning about people
• Listening about people's lives
• Hearing about new adventures
• Seeing the water meet the sky in the far off distance
• Sand beneath my toes
• A light cool breeze
• Barns
• Lighthouses
• History
• The pleasure of turning off the alarm clock
• Waking up to happy dreams
• A long soak in the bathtub
• Chocolate chip cookies
• Vacation with my family
• Inside jokes
• People understanding me
• Being a contradiction from time to time
• Sex on the Beach (drink)
• Woodchuck (drink)
• Having a cigarette on my balcony in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep
• Decorating the Christmas tree with Christmas music or a Christmas movie playing
• The guest bed at my sister's house
• Pizza with everything on it
• (possibly more in the future)

Library Career Confession

I became a librarian for the books. That's my confession. After everything I wrote in a previous post I thought it would be best to make my confession.

It all started with an employment ad for a local library. I was job searching after earning a Bachelor's degree in Family Studies. I saw an advertisement for a librarian and decided that's what I wanted to do. I didn't want a job working with families. Not particularly anyways.

To apply for the job I needed a Master's Degree in Library Science. "Okay, I'll get one of those." So while I was trying to get into the nearby Library Science program, I worked as a social worker. Two years of feeling depressed, cynical, sarcastic, looked down upon, and just miserable made me realize how much I wanted to be in a job where I was happy and enjoyed my time. I thinking was, if I'm going to work eight hours a day for most of my waking life, I better enjoy what I'm doing. I loved books, and I amazingly still liked people. What better place to be than at a library.

So, I'm finally in the Library Science program. I quit my full-time job to become a full-time graduate student and work part time at a library. One a my professors gave a snide remark in class about students entering the program just because they like to read. I gave him a mental eye roll and continued to listen to his very boring lecture. I didn't learn a damn thing from him. To this day one of my friends like to quote him and repeat some of his stories. She likes him, and I think he's a dork. He probably hasn't set a foot in a library in 20 years.

Anyways, I worked as a reference librarian. I never thought I would ever be a reference librarian. I mean, you have to be highly intelligent to be a reference librarian. Intelligence helps, but the key is to know where to find the answer. That I can to. Countless times, I have answered a reference question by saying, "I don't know, but I can find the answer for you." (And there are times in which Google is used.)

Even though the patrons will drive me nuts sometimes, and even though I feel occupational burnout riding my heels, I like the fact that I'm a librarian. I'm working at a place where there are answers to my questions. Occassionally I have the chance to educate individuals (that is if they are up to it.) If a book strikes my fancy, it's often in reach.

So for anyone who wants to be a librarian for the sake of books... go for it. Just know, there's always more to it.

Touchdown Jesus that looks like Butter

If you are ever driving on Interstate 75 in Lebenon, Ohio you will come across the strangest work of art...

This is what people around here refer to as the "Touchdown Jesus." Just yesterday someone said it was the Touchdown Jesus that looks like Butter. I can see how she thinks like that. Me, I've always called it "The Big Jesus."

What I find facinating is what's across the highway, off the same exit...

Yes ladies and gentlemen, a Hustler of Hollywood is just a hop, skip and a jump away.

Library Annoyances

I always give an inward smirk when people tell me they wanted to be a librarian. Many of those individuals are book lovers and they like the idea of being surrounded by books. A good reason. Nothing wrong with it, but they don't understand the reality that librarians are surrounded by annoying people. We librarian don't have the pleasure of reading all day while working at the library. It's actually frowned upon. Unless you are reading professional reading material. I find it lame that we can't take the time to read while working. There are plenty of people who come up to us and ask for a good book to read. Everyone is different, with different tastes, and it would help if I was given the time to read more to give our patrons ideas. But I'm just a reference librarian, low on the food chain. My voice isn't heard.

Here are some of the annoyances I experience while working at the library. They are in no particular order. Some days the smallest incident will bring me to a boiling point.

• Administrators who only look at the numbers.
• Administrators who think they know how to make the public happy when they haven't seen the people who visit the library.
• Parents who believe the library is a good place for their children to throw temper tantrums.
• Parents who let their children run through the library and think it's cute. It's fucking annoying.
• People who think Google gives them all the answers. Just the other day, I was answering questions via chat to a gentleman who asked how long does it take for the skin to replace itself. I was searching through reputable health databases and websites and not coming up with anything. All the sudden he gives me a message stating, "I found an answer that said 35 days." I asked him, where did you find the answer? I was curious. There's a possibilty that I could use his source in the future. His reply, "Google." What a fucking answer I thought. Google did not give him the answer, Google gave him many different websites with his chosen search strategy. And another thing, why is he asking me the question when he obviously found the answer. Asshole.
• Patrons who are impatient. In this day and age with microwave ovens, high-speed internet, fast food drive thrus, self checkouts at the grocery store, etc. people are expecting an answer this second. You take more than a minute and you're just fucking incompetent. I hate to hear, "that's okay, I'll look it up myself." Which usually turns into them getting on the internet, going to Google and finding the answer. It doesn't matter where the answer came from, or whether or not it's correct. It's an answer and they found it on Google.
• People who don't want to find the answer in a book. One of the administrators at the library, and the person who buys the library's reference books asked a question about former Vice President Al Gore. Now, she was at the reference desk, in front of a computer when asking the question. Now, my first thought is to grab the Who's Who of the America. It's a multi-volume book that will have the basics and a little bit more of many individuals in the United States. Since each page has several columns of small print written, it took me a couple of seconds to find his name. I find his name, bring the book to her, open it to the information on Al Gore, and she tells me, "don't worry I'll find it." And she heads straight to the computer. The fucking answer was right in front of her. She found the answer on the computer a couple minutes later, with the open book in front of her.
• People who think we will do everything for me. We do not write resumes. We do not type letters. We do not babysit. I just love it when people say, "Well, someone told me you will help me with this." Yes we will help. We will help you sign on to a computer. We will provide you all the information you need to write a resume, but we do not do the work for you.
• How about those people who come up to the desk and say, "I don't know how to work a computer. Will you do this for me?" Mostly it's find a book. All I have to do is type the name of the book, author, keywork, or subject and we can find it. What bother's me are those individuals who say, "I'm not going to learn how to use a computer. I don't see why I should." It's that answer than I want to say, "fucker." But I smile and go on. (Once someone asked me if I was always happy because I always had a smile on my face. The answer was a BIG no. I smile because I can't curse at people. At least not while I'm working. Who am I kidding, I hardly curse at anyone. I just can't seem to do it.)
• People who try butter me up before asking for a favor, "the library has always been great to me, you all are wonderful, could you do this for me?" What would I like to say, "listen lady, just ask your damn question. Don't butter us up. An while you're at it, learn how to use the damn copier. You've seen us use it for you plenty of times."
• Don't I seem like a cheerful Librarian.
• Don't get me wrong, I'm fairly kind and nice to everyone who comes up to the desk for help. I've formed friendships with some of the people. I like working with the public. (I'd be a hermit for sure if I didn't work a the library). There just happens to be certain moments when I have to take a deep mental breath and go one. Sometimes a mental middle finger does the trick too.