a Grimm tale

I was watching The Brothers Grimm last night and it suddenly occurred to me that maybe the problems in my head are caused by my genetics (well that is quite obvious~but my meaning is a little less obvious~i’m referring to the geographical source of my genetics being German, French and Irish and their natural tendencies to war with one another…) I was rather impressed by the movie itself, incorporating as it did, familiar fairy tales into an entirely new story (and i must admit a whole new admiration for Heath Ledger)~i always have been a fan of the Terry Gilliam genre of fantasy/comedy.

Perhaps unsurprisingly i was afterwards inspired to pick up my copy of the Annotated Brothers Grimm to further read up and refresh myself on the history of both these folklorist (and LIBRARIAN) brothers and their times as well as some of the more unfamiliar and familiar tales. I found myself quite enthralled in the whole thing.

One of the purposes the brothers had in collecting the folktales was to try and retain the legends of their people during the French occupation of Germany~they saw in the German tradition of oral folklore something unique to the volk (perhaps a mistaken impression on their part which also lead to further mistaken impressions later when their cause was taken up by the Nazis and they were later seen as Nationalists~which they were not~they just wanted a record of German folktales as Perrault had earlier done with the French and as later scholars would soon attempt to replicate with their own countries. We often think of the Grimm's tales as violent and bloody and well grim but the truth is they didn't start out as quite so. The first editions included much more sex and less violence. The Grimm's thought their audience was more adult and didn't realize the stories would appeal to children so much. With each subsequent edition they began to edit out the sex and add in more violence (interesting eh?)

Anyway, if you have an interest in fairy tales i recommend both the book and the movie...

a meditation on the absent parent

“He was an African, a Kenyan of the Luo tribe, born on the shores of Lake Victoria in a place called Alego. The village was poor, but his father, Hussein Onyango Obama, had been a prominent farmer, an elder of the tribe, a medicine man with healing powers. My father grew up herding his father’s goats and attending the local school, set up by the British colonial administration, where he had shown great promise. He eventually won a scholarship to study in Nairobi; and then, on the eve of Kenyan independence, he had been selected by Kenyan leaders and American sponsors to attend a university in the United States, joining the first large wave of Africans to be sent forth to master Western technology and bring it back to forge a new, modern Africa.”

~Barack Obama in Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance

Barack Obama grew up hearing stories about his father from his mother and his maternal grandparents. Raised in a white household Barack doesn't know what it is to be an African-American and so feels out of place among both his white and his (very few) black classmates. When he is six his mother marries an Indonesian and he then moves with the two of them to Djakarta, Indonesia. His mother taught English to Indonesian businessmen at the American embassy and young Barack attended the local Indonesian school reinforced by three hours every morning of his mother's teaching of American correspondence courses. Indonesia also brought his baby sister, Maya. Once the correspondence courses were exhausted Barack was sent, at ten, back to Hawaii to live again with his maternal grandparents, his mother promising that she and his sister would be joining him soon.

That Christmas his mother did come, as did his father. It was to be the only time he would meet him. A few months after his twenty-first birthday he received a call from an aunt in Africa informing him of his father's death. Dreams from My Father is the tale of a search for identity; a search for family; the search for a connection in the world; of what it means to part of one family; and of the family of man; and of what the influence of both the known and unknown can have on who you are.

Obama eventually travels to Kenya to meet the family of his father and his many siblings and is welcomed as a long lost son. In many ways he feels like he has found something he has lost as well as many more questions left unanswered. If Audacity of Hope read like some kind of campaign propaganda (which it did in some ways) Dreams from My Father reads more like a beautiful novel written truly from the heart. I found it very moving (maybe all the more so because my own father is such an absence in my life, and my identity a little up in the air for reasons of my own). The writing is quite unpoliticianlike (and i mean that only in the nicest way!)

but I'm from Texas...

time for yet another installment of "Yes, there are Some Stupid Questions," but this one is more along the lines of "if you already knew the answer then why did you ask the question?" (or maybe, just perhaps, "I'm the Librarian, damn it!" so, of course, I'm Right~Meow.)

Today was a loooooooong day, starting with an 8:00 a.m. committee meeting (all my meetings seem to come at 8:00 a.m. which is still nighttime, as far as i am concerned~not too big on mornings.) The reason why i bring it up is that, it seems, whenever we reach the end of one of these meetings and are trying to schedule the next one, someone always seems to say "I CAN'T come in on That morning because I work that night..." To which i always want to respond, "So?" or "And..." because i work all nights and here i am... (yeah, i know, wah, wah, wah...)

Anyway...

So my first customer of the day is looking for a book on the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the Real story. I tried explaining to her that the movie was not based on real events but i could probably find the novelization for her.

"No, I want the real story."

I tried further explaining the idea that Tobe Hooper had invented Leatherface (yes, Ed Gein~from Wisconsin, mind you~did provide some inspiration for the skin mask and cannibalistic aspects but what movie serial-killer hasn't drawn some broad inspiration from Ed Gein?) and the whole chainsaw thing (it came to him while standing in a hardware store, or so i've heard) but she was from Texas and she could remember when it happened (the chainsaw wielding, cannibalistic serial killer, that is), so i just couldn't get the concept to stick. I think she left thinking "Silly, silly non-Texan librarian."

Next is the woman who wants a listing of all the presidential salaries from George W(ashington) all the way through George W(. Bush). At first i thought this might be a difficult task but i actually came up with the figures rather quickly only to be told that they were wrong (because she knew for a fact that George Washington was only paid $200 per year which didn't match my $25, 000~though he did refuse it.) I had to come up with three other sources, all giving the same information before she could be convinced that she was either a)misremembering or b)whichever source she got it from was wrong to begin with (this is the same woman who always seeks Me out for My Information~i feel so blessed).

Our resident crazy newspaper guy, who on Saturday accused me of removing all of the ads from all of our papers so he could not see them, asked for the third day in a row how long we keep the papers, because there is an article he really wants and he would even be willing to dig through our recycle bin for it if it comes to that; And could i use "our special librarian databases" to find a Washington Post article that he needs and email it to him?

"We don't have access to any databases that our patrons don't, sir," (well, not the kind you seem to want, anyway~then, after telling me it couldn't be found online, we found it online~hip, hip...)

And my third strike for the day? A woman comes in looking for a book she has in hold but she can't find it on our hold shelf. When i look up her card i tell her it is being held for her at a different branch. "But my card said This Branch". (since the computer system i'm using is the same computer system that printed the card i doubt it, but whatever.)

"It is being held for you at The Other Branch."

"But my card said This Branch." (hmm, this conversation seems to be going nowhere.)

"Well, i don't have the book here, what shall we do?"

"The card said it was here."

. . . . .

Things continued like that for quite some time, but i won't further bore you, just suffice it to say the migraine that i had for an entire week, which then gave me a day-long break, is coming back.

My library is located right next to some low-rent apartments (which isn't quite as much fun as being across the street from the baby gangster junior high, but almost...) These apartments give us a nine-year-old boy whose fondest dream is to hide in the library after everyone has left (and he has actually succeeded once or twice in doing so~therefore he has been banned until he and his mom come in to talk to our manager. They also bless us with a four-year-old girl who once wandered in, by herself, trailing behind or sitting by random adults until my manager noticed and walked her home. The little girl's mother came in today to use our courtesy phone to call the police because her four-year-old who had been "in and out of the house, playing, you know?" was nowhere to be found and she thought she had taken off with the nine-year old neighbor who thinks its a fun game to take her by the arm and they both run away from the girl's mother and she can't stop them from going "wherever."

As i'm listening to this, i'm wondering, "do you really want to let the police know that not only have you lost track of your four-year-old who you do not seem to supervise in any way, but that you also have seem to be incapable of control or proper supervision if you did try?"

One of the neighbors did find the girl (sitting by herself in some unattended car, by the by) just before the police arrived but the mom wanted the officer to go talk to the mother of the nine year old to tell her that her son couldn't play with her daughter. I had to stay in the library, so i didn't hear any of the officer's conversation with ANY parents, though i think it might have been interesting.

And then our crazy family comes in. Mom and Dad, both seem to inhabit some other world~who knows where, so, of course, their two sons are out of control. They are wandering about the library, causing their usual chaos, when one of the boys notices the beautiful, brand, new stuffed tiger that our Marketing department just brought us for display. He wants it (and of course if your child wants something, you just give it to him, right?) So Dad tries to get it down, only to discover, that the very-wise Marketing people had tied it down with wire. Failing to have his desire met drives the child into a kicking, SCREAMING (eardrum-shattering) temper-tantrum (which lasts much longer than i gave the human lungs credit for). His temper-tantrum coincides with another child's temper-tantrum because she is being forcibly separated from some library item (i'm too over-occupied with the first problem to see what that item is). Meanwhile Dad is trying to calm his brat by offering him all the other stuffed animals we have atop our shelves (because when your child is throwing a fit you should prove to him what an effective technique throwing a fit can be). The boy takes our flamingo and alternately beats it against the floor and lets out a high-pitched squeal to let Everyone know he still isn't happy. I sit at my desk trying to decide if i want to deal with any of this (have i mentioned this family is a continual problem? talking to any of them rationally is difficult)

Finally the family leaves and everything feels just a bit calmer. I mention something along those lines and our new shelver asks "how many kids are in that family anyway? Five? Six?"

"Two, just two." my head is on the desk as i hold up two fingers.

Luckily we are in the final stretch and as i am going through my pre-closing routine, on my way back to the computer room to start turning off the Internet computers, i am stopped by a befuddled-looking woman standing in front of our "One Book" display. "What are these books here for?" she asks.

I do a quick little blah, blah, blah spiel and am met by a look of confusion i have neither the time or inclination to try and clear. I point to the poster above the display explaining the program and now i encounter that kind of slack-jawed expression i recognize as, "You mean i have to Read? Multiple Words? On a poster? Duh?" she stares at the poster for a while then asks, "So you can check these out? And read them? And bring them back?"

That's the basic concept of a library, yeah. What, didya think you were walking into a liquor store 'cause that's a ways away. (I restrain myself to a simple "yup" and quickly scamper away.)

Once i did get most of the computers turned off and i noticed a guy go from an on computer, to turn one on that i had already turned off, when i noticed him going to a third i marched back there.

"Did you need some help, Sir???" (i must admit i was a touch grumpy by this point)

"Those other computers didn't work"

"If you're having trouble with the internet computers you should just come up to the desk and let us know," (so that this ever-so-friendly ☺ and Helpful librarian can come show you how to enter your 1-2-3-4 password~and, yes, that's actually what it was) "I just turned those computers off because we're closing. So, did you need help getting on the internet?"

"Why, are ya closin' or something?"

"Well, yes, actually, (like i just told you, and announced, a few times, but oh well) you only have a few minutes left."

"Oh, well here's your card back," he tosses his one-day internet card at me.

Okay, whatever dude.

Where's a chainsaw when you need one?

spinning alone on a not-so-cold night

the world spins

my mind swims

things change so slowly

and so quickly

i don’t know who you are

i don’t know what I am

time was

once upon a time

the story goes

there was a girl

i was a girl

who didn’t know

who i was

what i was

where i was going

but didn’t care

because

the world spun

my mind swam

and pain didn’t matter

but now

somehow

when alone

feels lonely

and it matters

that i don’t know

pain isn’t so easy to forget

swimming in fog is just

swimming in fog

and the pain is

no longer lost

but i am.

And being

Lost

isn’t so

Poignant

Now.

And pain just carves permanent roads

in the mind.

"My idea of life, it's what happens when they're rolling the credits."

~Violet in Feed

Titus’s world is so fast-paced that the girls must dash off to the bathroom, not only to touch-up their make-up, but also to change their hairstyles, just to stay current with the latest fashions. M.T. Anderson has envisioned a commercialized future in which the corporate world truly controls everything, including things like the (no-longer-quite) public education in School™ (indicated by the trademark symbol~they took over once the government could no longer afford or control it) and the environmental-like special effects such as Clouds™ (necessary once most of the true environment was destroyed). These corporations also control America’s citizenry, not through any type of “Big Brother” oversight, but through almost more insidious means: direct computer Feed.
At birth the majority of the American population (about 73%~basically the ones who can afford it, but they are the only ones who really count in this marketing culture) have a transmitter chip implanted directly in their brain. Through this transmitter they can receive (and transmit back) everything: the latest new music, fashion, entertainment in all its current forms, they can instant chat their friends and family, buy and track items from all over the world, anything their little hearts and minds desire. The feedcast also allows corporations to market directly to the population, to instantly collect ALL their demographic information and to TELL them exactly what their little hearts and minds desire (perhaps before they are even aware of it themselves), and how, when, and where to get it and at what price. Right Now!
The illiteracy of the population is demonstrated, not only through Titus’ first person narration (a voice which Anderson captures perfectly) but also by the name of one of the most popular feedcasts: Oh! Wow! Thing! News of what is actually happening in the world, politically, environmentally, culturally is of no real matter to most people as they are too obsessed with what they can buy and how it makes them look to others. Even things like the lesions beginning to affect everyone become a fashion statement rather than a health concern.
Then Titus meets Violet, a girl who dares to think differently and he doesn’t know quite what to do. All does not end well. This young adult novel is seriously dark, with a wonderful ironic tone, and it might just accomplish the feat of making the teen reader think of the implications of rampant consumerism.

a little instability just to hold things together...

The month of Venus begins with April Fool's Day (also known as All Fool's Day), an occasion for playing practical jokes on friends, family, and coworkers. This custom dates back to olden times, when inmates of insane asylums were allowed out in the streets for one day each year for the sadistic amusement of those who were (supposedly) normal.

~The Wicca Book of Days: Legend and Lore for Every Day of the Year

April 1 is one of the few days of the year that has widespread secular observance (the others being Halloween, Christmas, and New Year's). In every society there are periods of time when misrule or disorder is permitted, even encouraged, for a short well-defined term to prevent things from becoming too rigid. In the Northern tradition, the trickster god is Loki; the trickster is the model for playing tricks and practical jokes on people and making them into April fools.

Although Loki could often prove to be more than troublesome he could also do things that no one else could do. In the royal courts, it was often the court jester that was the only one that could speak the truth~through the guise of jest~he was often closest to the king and could make his observances without fear of reprisal.

~The Pagan Book of Days: a Guide to the Festivals, Traditions, and Sacred Days of the Year

"I wrote everything for Alice"

About Alice is Calvin Trillin's beautiful, loving tribute to his late wife, Alice. After over forty years together he still speaks of her with that true-love light in his voice, as if she could have done no wrong~and those things she did do which differed from him, which perhaps annoyed him, which perhaps they argued about were just those darling little eccentricities that endeared her to him ever the more.

I don't recall reading any of Trillin's New Yorker pieces before though i'm sure i must have; i do know i haven't read any of his other books. I picked this one up after hearing him on the Diane Rehm Show, and aside from sounding somewhat familiar it sounded very appealing.

Many of my serious relationships have ended just as those lust/infatuation chemicals/hormones are beginning to die out and other feelings of true love, or friendship, or whatever are supposed to be kicking in (or so i've been told). I used to fear that friendship stage, now i can sympathize/commiserate with the girl who wrote to Trillin "that she sometimes looked at her boyfriend and thought 'But will he love me like Calvin loves Alice?'"

Or maybe that's all just a bit too mushy/ooggy for me~i do love the sturm und drang just a touch.

Still and all, this is a lovely, quick read~i might just pick up a few more of his books.

slivers of memory

"I awoke to darkness.

I was hungry--starving!--and I was in pain. There was nothing in my world but hunger and pain, no other people, no other time, no other feelings."

So begins Octavia Butler’s last novel Fledgling. Although Shori awakens with no memory of who or what she is, she is the lone survivor of a brutal and racist attack on her home and family. She is a fifty-three-year-old "girl"~a youngster to her people, the Ina, a race of "long-lived blood drinkers" (they also walk the night~but of course) who have lived beside humans for at least ten-thousand years (as far back as their written history extends).

With the Ina, Butler has created a new race of vampires unlike those we have heard or read about before (although their presence on Earth may account for some of our legendary vampires) and she has managed to both integrate their story into current vampire mythos and make it believable and interesting. Through the character of Shori she builds on this new race even further. Shori is a result of genetic engineering, a mix of (dark-skinned) human and Ina DNA, an attempt to give the gift of day to the Ina.
As Shori works to relearn about her Ina heritage; to negotiate both the human, Ina, and symbiotic relationship she must forge with those she feeds on (but doesn't kill~the Ina don't kill i they can avoid it); as well as try to both avoid those who would try to destroy her and hers and figure out why they are aiming for her destruction; we are taken on that journey with her.

Butler once described herself as a

"fifty-three-year old writer who can remember being a ten-year-old writer and who expects someday to be an eighty-year-old writer. I'm also a comfortable asocial~a hermit in the middle of Seattle~a pessimist if I'm not careful, a feminist, a black, a former Baptist, an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, insecurity, certainty, and drive."

I can imagine that i hear in the confident, almost arrogant Shori, who is fiercely intelligent, intuitive and quick to action, some kind of strange autobiographical voice for Butler. Shori is forging, a new race in a new territory. It is a true loss that we did not hear Butler's voice as an eighty-year-old writer, Fledgling is one of the best from the best.

life is a chronic condition

Living a Healthy Life with Chronic Conditions: Self-Management of Heart Disease, Arthritis, Diabetes, Asthma, Bronchitis, Emphysema and others (Third Edition) by Kate Lorig, RN, DrPH, Halsted Holman, MD, David Sobel, MD, Diana Laurent, MPH, Virgina Gonzales, MPH, and Marian Minor, RPT, PhD (so glad i’m not handwriting that~writer’s cramp~big time!) is the text we use for a class i took back in February in Chronic Disease Self-Management. It’s a four-day course in which we take the class and learn to lead/facilitate the class (which instead of being four days will be spread our over six weeks in two and ½ hour sessions. In order to be a course facilitator you must suffer from a chronic condition yourself (so the class members can relate to you).
We use a standardized program created at the Stanford School of Medicine. I took the course through our Aging Services Department. In order to meet the completion and certification requirements you have to facilitate a class and i was hoping to do one at my library (i was also hoping to consider all class time as work time) but everything became a bit problematic once i started attending. First there was the whole volunteer/employee thing which i won't go into~basically having to do with the fact that you need to be volunteering but we happen to work for the same government body~just different agencies; and then some discussions with my personnel director led to the compromise that i could do the initial training ½ vacation time and ½ paid time as long as i committed to do at least one class at my library which was fine, since it was part of my plan anyway; but then i felt somehow obligated to sign up for one of the already scheduled classes through aging services~so i signed up for the only one i had time availability for (most of the other people in this training were retired volunteers or were employed at the senior centers they were going to teach at). So far so good.

At the end of March i got a call from the Outreach Coordinator for Aging Services and she can't find a co-facilitator for an upcoming class (did i mention it takes two to facilitate each class?) can i possibly do it? I have to be at work before the class is scheduled to be over. That will probably be okay as the classes don't go the full time but she'll call Ms. Co-Facilitator to be sure. Unfortunately she called me back to say that Ms. Co said that would be fine. So now i'm committed to three classes in my copious free time (actually it's not so much the time itself as the time that i can actually manage to leave my dark quiet house and drive a car and talk to people over the raging pain in my head~thus my chronic condition)

During the first three sessions i rather uncharacteristically, submissively sat back and let Ms. Co take over the class, feeling like if she wanted to do all the work she could (also since i had a full eight hour day ahead of me i really couldn't afford to let myself feel my usual rampageyness towards being ordered around). The problem (that i didn't know about) was that the independent seniors at our senior center did not take too kindly to her grade-school-teacherly manner, and over-enforcement of the rules (although i could have told them she strayed quite a few times and didn't understand the standardized program as well as she should have). When the cute and perky outreach coordinator called me to ask if she could drop the snacks for the next class off at my house i thought nothing of it as she happened to life just down the street from me. But when she showed up she had all sorts of leading questions about how the class was going and how Ms. Co was doing. My diplomatic answer was that she was okay, that she had a tendency to take over and run on, but overall it was okay. If i had known that she was asking because there had been class member complaints... So CuteandPerky says maybe she should stop by just to observe and i say sure...

Class morning i show up my usual fifteen minutes before class is scheduled to start (which is usually fifteen minutes later than Ms. Co shows up) and there is no one there, which is odd. I'm thinking "this is odd, this is the right day, right???" I start to set up, still no one. I walk to the Director's office and ask if she's seen Ms. Co. "Who's Ms. Co?"

"She's doing the Chronic Conditions Class..."

"I know no one likes her.

that is not so good. "You had a couple more dropouts last week," she continues.

I wander back to the lounge/classroom, my mouth doing it's anxious little twisty thing. Two class members approach me books in hand, wanting to return them. "It's not you, YoSafBridg," one of them says. Eventually CandP shows up, stops by the Director's office to say she's here to observe today's class, i step in and tell her that there probably isn't a class, explaining the situation. Just as the three of us are discussing things i see Ms. Co walking in the door.

"Oh, i'm not good with confrontation..." says CandP (somehow that doesn't surprise me...

We go into the room and Ms. Co, CandP, and i have a little chat about the class (which was not the most comfortable discussion i've ever been a party to, but it had to be done, and then it was done.) Though we did discuss a few of the issues people had (and Ms. Co demanded to know who those people were, i demurred) i tried my most diplomatic resources and she left, i believe, completely unaware that she had a problem, her fondest desire of teaching still in tact (that wasn't necessarily our intention, but people will only hear what they will hear). So i left thinking "at least i have That morning free for a little while."

That, of course, was not to be. CandP called the next week saying she had talked to the director and that the class members would like to continue the class if CandP and I were teaching (so they did like me "they really liked me!!!"). So this morning, its back to class i went (a much more enjoyable experience, i might add~tho it did involve more work, being an active facilitator and all ...)

And after that extremely long, saga-like introduction and peek into my ever-so exciting life, i'll tell you of the book itself: it is basically what the title says it is, a manual focusing on self-management of chronic conditions to lead a healthy, fulfilling life (and wouldn't i love to throw wealthy in there~not only for its rhyming possibilities but also because i'm feeling the pinch at the moment.)

The book covers every aspect of disease/life self-management starting with understanding your symptoms; using your mind to manage symptoms; exercising for fun, fitness, strength, and endurance (including tips for specific illnesses); communication skills; sex and intimacy; making your wishes known (advance directives, DNRs, living wills, etc); healthy eating; managing medications; and making treatment decisions; as well as chapters dealing with specific conditions; it ends with planning for the future. The book and the class are both very useful tools for those dealing with chronic conditions or caring for those who are.

my long lost Mama Rose

When i was a little girl, about seven or so, i had this little fantasy that Bernadette Peters was my birth mother (it could happen). I don't remember what movies i saw her in but i do remember watching her on the Carol Burnett Show (which i loved, by the by) in various sketches (i vaguely remember an Exorcist one) and i just thought she was so adorable with that little baby voice, her tinyness, and most of all THOSE CURLS (somehow i remember them as being blonde at that time~but maybe that's just because My Curls were blonde at the time) she just had to be my biomom. I would watch her, and have my little fantasy (and they were fantasies~i wasn't Entirely delusional at seven); i would tell my mom "Bernadette Peters could be my birth mother."

"I doubt it very much." she would unhelpfully reply.

"But it's possible..." i would plead, doing my seven-year-old calculations.

"Very unlikely." Mom was quite uncooperative. But i would cajole and beg her to go along with the little story until she would finally admit to the slight possibility just to shut me up.

So when a friend asked if i knew anyone who liked Bernadette Peters because he just happened to have an extra ticket to her concert you know i had to jump on that chance.

"Oh, me, me, me," i practically gushed, "I Love Bernadette Peters!" (of course i would have to, and i relayed to him the tales of my childhood (or at least the ones of The Carol Burnett Show and my mother.)

So the other night i joined "the clan of the curly redhead" (as if i wasn't already a member) and saw Ms. Wonderful in concert (from the fifth row, no less). And she was. Wonderful. Stupendous. Awe inspiring. And, while i was watching this 59-year-old, 5'3" (my height exactly) woman, with the hourglass figure (my genetic blessing~though Ms. Bernadette obviously puts much more effort into keeping hers fit than i do), and the tumbling red ringlets, sashay about the stage with

such finesse, there was the voice of a seven-year-old girl whispering to me "Don't you think it's possible, even in the slightest... maybe... possibly?"

i'd like to think so...

two thoughts for the day

1. My horoscope from Free Will Astrology:

It has been too long since you visited the Middle of Nowhere. You’ve been a fixture in the heart of a well-defined Somewhere for quite some time. But now, Taurus, you need the enriching confusion of the cosmic, huh?! It’s prime time for you to wander out into the fertile chaos of the what the hell!? zone. Have fun! Don’t forget to writhe! Now please repeat and repeat and repeat after me, slowly building from a smirking giggle to a cackling belly-laugh: Where am I and how did I get here?!

(now i will have to ponder this one; i have definitely visited That Zone quite a few times, but has it been that long~i’m not so sure…)

2. i’m not sure whether this is tragically ironic, some (very) weird kind of poetic justice (in a way i'm obviously unaware of), or just sad; but it is definitely noteworthy:

After campaigning for three years to have authorities remove a massive tree stump from Ontario’s Lake St. Clair, insisting that it posed a hazard to snowmobilers, Robert Case, 47, died when his snowmobile struck the stump.

what i should have said

don't you love it when the perfect retort comes to you just a bit too late?

Yesterday, just before my dinner break i had a woman standing in the middle of my library shouting into her cell phone, in an ever increasing volume, i watched and listened to her for a tad, assessing the situation (which was not really an emotional crisis~just apparently the way she "communicates" with people") hoping that maybe she would lower her voice; end her phone call; or perhaps just disappear, when other patrons started glaring at her then at me wondering why i wasn't doing something about her i stepped over to her and asked her if she could Please take her phone conversation outside (the door was actually just a few feet away.)

She yelled, "No! I'm not taking my phone outside, bitch..." (and a few other expletives i didn't catch as i was walking away because the no had been completely unexpected.)
She stalked around for a while continuing her conversation as i looked at the clock, thinking it was time for me to leave and i really just should, and i was a little shocked that this would happen to me in my beloved new library as no one had ever said no to me when i asked them to quiet down their cell phone conversation even in my VERY SCARY INNER-CITY-LIKE old library that none of our librarians ever want to go to (of course the name calling and swearing was nothing new and i have had many people refuse to leave after they've been kicked out at which point the police must be called~at least a weekly event at my OLD library.)

After she hung up and as she was stomping by my desk she spoke at me, "You must be new, he's on the phone why don't you make him go outside!" (she was referring to the man using our courtesy phone, he was speaking in a reasonable voice, i might add). Now there were many responses welling up in my mind, as well as, i'm sure, a most interesting look on my face, but luckily for both of us, i'm sure, the woman was off somewhere else and my manager was approaching to tell me she was leaving for the day.

"What's up?" she asked, noting the horrified luck on my face (and possibly my closed fist pounding on the desk). I relayed my little tale. She said, "Perhaps we need to start being a little more consistent about our cell phone policy, i had a woman stroll through her the other night loudly and obliviously chatting as well."

"I know, i was there. Oh well, have a good night." i replied, then promptly fled (after stopping at the customer service desk to see if there was any particular reason this woman should be receiving special treatment~after all i AM new~although that particular comment made me seethe)

Now, let me just insert here, that ALL of the libraries in our system (and by all i am, of course including my current library just to leave no questions) have signs on the door with a picture of a cell phone and that lovely little red circle/slash thingie asking people to turn off there cell phone or place it in silent mode. Some of our libraries enforce this very strictly, most of the time, if people talk in a reasonable tone i let them, but if they get loud or their ring tone does i gently remind them (as i do with ANY other disruptive talk, noise, or behaviour in the library). If they get snarky with me i use the signs as a fallback.

Apparently this woman couldn't see her behavior was unreasonable so she probably wouldn't understand the reasonable assessment that it wasn't actually her cell phone USE i was objecting to but HOW she was using it. Nor the reasonable argument that the man she wanted me to tell to go outside was talking at a reasonable argument (not to mention the fact that, as our phone was actually CONNECTED through WIRES to parts of the library it was physically impossible for him to step outside...)

What would have come out of my mouth if she had actually been speaking to me?

Probably something unfortunate like: "Oh i'm sorry, i didn't realize that you had Special Needs... or Were Crazy...or Were Stupid" which would have lead to a confrontation between Problem Woman and Rampaging Librarian and that would not be good.

But today i was thinking what i should have said was: "Why, yes i am new to this library. My name is (YoSafBridg), and i was transferred in because they were having some Issues here and they knew i was Just the one to handle it." (in an ever-so-sweet tone)

or maybe: Why, yes i am new to this library. My name is (YoSafBridg), and i was transferred in because i the system is highly confident in my years of experience in handling difficult situations." (which is actually closer to the truth since i was transferred from my old library (which was a difficult situation in and of itself) because they were transferring most of the librarians who had been at their libraries for 5-7 years (and i had been there nine)

"all that is vile for the sake of a smile"

~Robert Mankoff in the foreword to The Rejection Collection
I must admit to a rather twisted sense of humour. I think you need to have that twist (or twinge or maybe it's an illness~i can't really tell) to enjoy The Rejection Collection: Cartoons You Never Saw, and Never Will See in The New Yorker edited by Matthew Diffee (though i also must admit there were a few of these i just didn't get~if that's a good thing or a bad thing i'm still trying to figure out)

I also often enjoy the cartoons in The New Yorker (as well as the rest of the magazine~yes i'm one of those~i even subscribe~people)~tho sometimes some of those fly a tad high for me as well. These panels aren't just any old rejects they are rejects from regular submitters if that helps at all~but again it takes a certain twist of mind...

Blessed Ostara

Today is the Vernal Equinox which is, of course, of special significance to we of the pagan persuasion who celebrate it as the festival day of Ostara or Alban Eilir. So i thought i'd post a little post, but that's as far as my thinking got~funny or not so funny how your brain just fizzles out on you...)

March is of course sacred to Mars, the Green Goddess, the Lord of the Greenwood, Ostara, and Eostre (hm what does that sound/ look like?) The Vernal Equinox is one of the four Lesser Sabbats celebrated by Wiccans and it is a movable day (apparently this year it is rather controversial as it is today on this side of the pond and tomorrow on the other.) According to The Pagan Book of Days today is:

"...also sacred to the Norse goddess Iduna, bearer of the magic apples of life who personifies the light half of the year. She appears on this day as a sparrow, bringing joy to humans."

and who couldn't use a little more joy in their lives? I do love spring!

Though i may be a winter i love the mild months of spring and autumn...they bring a song to my (maybe not so) sarcastic heart

if all is not lost, where is it?

I’m not sure i have the answer to THAT question; but, if you fear you “suffer” from disorganization then you really should read A Perfect Mess: the hidden benefits of disorder (how crammed closets, cluttered offices, and on-the-fly planning make the world a better place) by Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman (not that i would ever tell you what to do, but it is absolutely enjoyable as well as quite informative and sensical~that is, as opposed to non-sensical).

Many of the reviews of this book have objected to its annectoctal nature but i found that part of it to be rather refreshing, especially as i read it, as i do many of my non-fiction reads, in bits and pieces sandwiched between parts of other books. Abrahamson and Freedman laid out their theories in, what i believed to be, a surprisingly organized way (or perhaps not so surprising~because what we are talking about here is not so much an absolute mess as hidden or unconventional methods of organization). Speaking as someone whose mind does not quite work in the usual way i feel i can relate. I learned many new and interesting things from this book and if i ever recover, even in the slightest from my horrible debt i might even acquire my own copy (tho its more likely my biblioaddiction might see to that for me).

Read this book and you might come away from the experience knowing all sorts of new anecdotal stories yourself, as well as the meaning of terms like: clutter; mixture; time sprawl; inconsistency; blur; noise; distraction; bounce; convolution; inclusion; distortion; width; depth; and intensity as they relate to mess and organization. You also might find reasons to give to your relatives and friends as to why you don't need a professional organizer (& how it might even be injurious to your health & well-being or your roof could come crashing in~literally). Though there are pathological degrees of messiness, i.e. the Collyer Brothers or crazy old cat ladies~oh please gods, don't let this ever happen to me~balance in everything (the perfectionist in me needs reminding of this~as does the professional organizer~i am a librarian after all...and dare i admit it...i even have a bit of the cataloger in me...)

somehow i was thinking it was tomorrow....

often one to love the big party holidays i usually am right on top of St. Patrick's Day (or Trefuilnid Treochair, the national day of Ireland. The feast for "the triple bearer of the triple key," the trident-bearing Celtic divinity assimilated to St. Patrick, whose sacred plant is the shamrock.~The Pagan Book of Days: a guide to the festivals, traditions, and sacred days of the year), but here it is already, totally snuck up on me, (for anyone who's interested it's also the second day of the festival of the Greek god Dionysus, equivalent to the Roman Bachus and Egyptian Day; as well as the end of the Celtic tree month of Nuin (ibid)~on this day in 1893, Eileen J. Garrett {a gifted medium, psychic, and founder of the Parapsychology Foundation} was born in Ireland. At a young age she began experiencing visions of the dead. She was granted United States citizenship in 1947 and she founded her own publishing house {Creative Age Press} and magazine {Tomorrow, a journal of paranormal phenomena}. She established the Parapsychology Foundation in 1951, and wrote numerous books under the pen name of Jean Lyttle. She died in France on September 15, 1970.~The Wicca Book of Days: Legend and Lore for Every Day of the Year)

In honor of the day i offer the following:

You're 65% Irish

You're very Irish, and most likely from Ireland. (And if you're not, you should be!)

actually, according to the (tiny) slip of paper i got with the (minimal) bit of info on my birth parents i do have a bit o' the Irish blood in me, so who knows?

How Irish Are You?

Your Irish Name Is...

Ciara Dillon

What's your Irish Name?

You Are A Poplar Tree

People tend to look up to you, and it's a bit lonely at the top. Inside, you are not always self confident, but you show great courage. Mature and organized, you are reliable in any situation. You tend to have an artistic or philosophical outlook on life. You are very choosy in love and take partnership seriously.

What's Your Celtic Horoscope?

You Are Apple Green

You are almost super-humanly upbeat. You have a very positive energy that surrounds you. And while you are happy go lucky, you're also charmingly assertive. You get what you want, even if you have to persuade those against you to see things your way. Reflective and thoughtful, you know yourself well - and you know that you want out of life.

um, no. super-humanly upbeat??? Not. Assertive and Persuasive? Perhaps. But that apple green is looking a bit like something else to me, and though green IS one of my favorite colours (i always waffle between that and blue) i lean a little towards the darker side...

What Color Green Are You?

We came, We Saw, We trampled...

The good folks of Oklahoma are considering legislation to make English the state's official language and they are running into some opposition. Now those of us who have gone through this struggle before may think that we have straddled both sides of the fence on this issue already~or at least i have~i am constantly arguing two sides with myself; but here's something i hadn't considered before and i really should have:

Oklahoma Indians balk at English-Only bill

By TIM TALLEY, Associated Press Writer Wed Mar 14, 2:21 AM ET
OKLAHOMA CITY - Legislation to make English the state's official language has run into opposition from American Indians, who say their native tongues are dying fast enough without any help from lawmakers.
As Oklahoma observes its centennial year, the English-only issue points up divisions that persist more than a century after Indians were forcibly marched to the region and then endured a series of land grabs.
Many of Oklahoma's 37 federally recognized tribes are fighting to save their languages and cultures from extinction years after the end of organized efforts to stamp them out.
Critics of the English-only Legislation point out that Oklahoma's very name is formed from two Choctaw Indian words — "okla" and "homma" — that mean "red man."
"If you go to English only, what are we going to call the state of Oklahoma?" said Terry Ragan, director of the Choctaw Nation's language program. "Even town names in the state will have to be named differently."
Supporters of the legislation say it could end bilingual state government documents, such as driver's license tests, and force immigrants to learn English and assimilate into American society.
English-only legislation has been adopted in 28 states and measures are pending in 12 states, said Rob Toonkel, director of communications for U.S. English, Inc. of Washington, D.C., an interest-group that supports making English the nation's official language. A similar measure has been filed in Congress.
The national English-only movement does not want to deprive American Indians of their native languages but is aimed at standardizing government documents into a single language as a symbol of unity for immigrant populations, Toonkel said.
"It's very much an assimilation issue," he said. "We should make sure they become part of the country."
But assimilation is a charged word for many American Indians, whose ancestors were forced from their traditional lands and sent on the Trail of Tears in the 19th century.
English-only restrictions were imposed in Indian Territory to expunge tribal languages and culture, said Kirke Kickingbird, an Oklahoma City attorney and member of the Kiowa tribe.
"That whole era was really about assimilation," he said.
Chad Smith, chief of the 250,000-member Cherokee Nation, the largest American Indian tribe in the United States, said the state's image is harmed when cultural differences are not embraced.
"There's a message sent to those outside of Oklahoma that we're intolerant, we're colloquial and we want to isolate ourselves from the rest of the world," Smith said.
"To our tribes it says that if there's an official language, your language is secondary and all other languages are secondary," said Smith, who has also criticized athletic teams using Indian mascots and names.

Supporters point out that the legislation doesn't interfere with the teaching or learning of American Indian languages.
But critics said a government policy could impede efforts to revive tribal languages.
The Intertribal Wordpath Society, a nonprofit group based in Norman, estimates that only about 9,000 people are fluent in the Cherokee language and 4,000 in the Choctaw language.
Fewer than a dozen people are fluent in other American Indian languages, including those of the Osage, Pawnee and Chiricahua Apache tribes, according to the group.
"We have absolutely nothing against English. It's great if people speak English," said Alice Anderton, a former linguist at the University of Oklahoma and executive director of the Intertribal Wordpath Society. "But it's great if people speak English plus some other language of heritage."

Very interesting indeed. Now i have even more to argue with myself about.