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.

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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.