Lost and Found

Well, this week I have been really successful at finding important things! Like, my backbone. But more importantly, I found my cats' toys. Under the fridge.*
When the little bastards first came home with me, there were two little mousies, and four colorful jingle balls. In the past month, one by one, all of these toys have gone missing. But my cats are still very young, and so they still have to play. And so, in the absence of their toys, they have improvised. I knew things had gotten out of hand when this morning, I discovered my Prozac bottle, a small trinket box, and a stray sock under the bed. Those little buggers are easily amused, it seems.

So I went on a hunt for the missing toys. I checked under the sofa, behind the desk, in the pantry, under the bed. No luck. And finally, I checked under the fridge:

So, everything, every freaking toy, was stuck far back under the fridge. So, we went to work and started plotting a toy intervention rescue thingy. A broomstick was too unwieldy, a hanger was too short, and so finally I fashioned a stick-pokey thingy by binding three rulers together with new hair ties.

And no, I have no idea why I have three rulers. Maybe at some point in my wild past I had to measure something really, really big? I honestly don't know. That shall be this week's Big Question that I ponder.

Anyway.
So, I start poking around under the stove with the crude stick-pokey thingy.

The cats helped by walking in front of my face, sticking their tails in my mouth, and swatting at the stick-pokey thingy. Finally, success! I retrieved all the toys, and a lot of unidentifiable under-stove gunky-goop. I think it may have been considered an E.B.E., by some standards. I am trying not to think too much about it. Next time the cats can retrieve their damned toys themselves.
*And no, I did not find my backbone under the fridge. I had to look harder for that, 'cause backbones are a little more elusive.

Pimpin' the Dickens

Last evening, when I was driving through the mountains on my way home from work, the clouds were thick, and grey, and low-hanging. It was really, really dark, and isolated feeling, and all around quite out of SoCal's character, and of course I loved it. And hurrah! The clouds are still here today, on my day off, which means I get to curl up with a book for as long as I like. It's not autumnal, or anything like that (sigh), but a nice little break until the next bout of global warming.

Great Quote #1, reprinted with Sunnydale Library Employee Mr. E's permission: "The Chinese have a wise saying. If you don't get rid of the old, how will you have room for the new?

So it looks like I am going to be taking a trip to Portland, Oregon for Labor Day weekend. Whether I am driving or flying remains to be seen. But the best part? My supervisor said it was alright for me to get an eyebrow piercing, so that's what I will do up in Portland. It seems really fitting.

Great Quote (dialogue, really) #2, reprinted courtesy of my big sisters:

Big Sister #1 (Talking on phone with Big Sister #2): Blah blah blah Oh my god! There's mouse shit in one of my kitchen drawers!

Big Sister #2: Oh my god! That's horrible!

Big Sister #1: I know!

Big Sister #2: I mean, that's really awful! No one should have to shit in a drawer!

I watched the BBC miniseries Bleak House earlier this week, and it was so darned good. Of course, I have a soft spot for Gillian Anderson (mmm, Gillian), but regardless, it was really well done. The book was incredibly slow-paced, but somehow the producers made the show flawlessly fast-paced. And captured Dickens' compassion really well, too. I won't shut up about it--I've become something of a Dickens pimp at work; it's rather disturbing!

In An Odd Mood

"If you want to hear God laugh, make plans."

Alright, ducks. This chick is going to veg out with a coupla hours of Scully and Mulder. Familar faces, voices, and memories are at least somewhat comforting.

...hey, Sneaky Panda, you out there? Email me! I want to get the skinny on your job and apartment and stuff!

You Don't Know How Lucky You Are...

It's another hot night here in Sunnydale, California. Most days, it gets 'way over 100 degrees, and I cannot remember the last time I wasn't hot. The humid summers of Florida, with thunderstorms and tree frogs, and the hazy, firefly-illuminated summers of Indiana are so far behind me, I may as well have dreamed them up. It's almost as though they never happened, as though these sunny times in Southern California are all that ever was, or ever will be.

Work is exhausting and draining, but I love it. I really, really love it--I love my patrons, I love helping them, I love that I have learned so much in the past three weeks. I come home at night, hot and sweaty and really, really tired. I don't talk or socialize much outside of work--I come home, make chit-chat to the cats, and sing along with Dar Williams. She's given me a lot of courage this year. I'm alone, for the most part, shrouded in solitude, but I am not lonely. Homesick, yes, incredibly homesick. But not lonely.

The other evening, I found out that one of my friends got a library job in my dream library, in my dream city. She's going to go off and be a fantabulous librarian in Seattle, and it's no more or less than what she has worked hard for, and earned. But when I found out, all of a sudden I was transported back to that rainy weekend I spent there, back in March. I fell in love with Seattle, instantaneously. It felt so right--the crowds, the rain, the clouds, the architecture, the funky-cool atmosphere. My friend Deshka took me all over the city, and we had the most incredible time in the world. I did an interview with the library, and it was draining and scary, but so incredible.

Now Deshka has moved on, and so have I. And another of my friends is going to live and work there, and I am here in hot, sunny Sunnydale. A long way from home, a long way from Seattle, too. But yet, right where I should be. I have folks all over the country rooting for me. I have some very happy patrons. I have two kittens that try to get into the shower with me. I have Dar Williams, and I've got myself. I have this moment, and I can tell you that this here, this moment, this is happiness. I am an incredibly lucky, lucky girl.
"And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
-Max Ehrmann

Congratulations, Sneaky Panda. I think you and Seattle are going to go great together.

Second Verse, Same as the First

Not much going on down here in the wilds of Southern California. There has been a recent dearth of posts from me lately, but that's because there's not a whole lot exciting going on. Life these days can be summed up in the following:

1. Hothothot.

2. Librarianship rocks!

3. Lots of chick-lits.

4. Two very obnoxious kittens.

5. Have I mentioned how hot it is?

I think July's going to be a quiet month, as I adjust to the work schedule and continue the financial famine. And hide out from the sun. If I get a suntan, I am going to be really pissed off.

School's Out. Life's In.

Today is the first day at my job. My first real, professional job, in the career that I have chosen for my life. I am officially no longer a student. I am a professional.

I kinda miss being a student. Or maybe I miss the life of a student? Or maybe I just miss Bloomington? I miss the odd schedule, the backpack, the totally grubby-casual luck. But I don't miss the lack of health insurance, the papers I had to write, the knowledge that I was accumulating an assload of student loans.

So here I am. A not-student. A professional. Funny how it kinda feels like the first day of school--I am taking pains to look extra nice. I am anxious. I wish I had a Hello Kitty Lunchbox, or a cool backpack. Or something. But I am not as anxious as I have been--yesterday I went to the local library (not the one at which I work) to get a card, and as I stood in line, I watched the librarian give the woman in front of me really crappy reference services for a very easy inquiry. And the whole time, I was going through my head what I would have done. It made me feel a tiny, tiny bit better.

And so to work. So to life.

Even when you can remember the past, you are still condemned to repeat it in blogs. Over and over and over.

So! That’s done. I have finished my first day as a professional, and of course it was not as godawful as I feared. Sure there is a lot to learn, but I am more than equal to the job. I helped people—really, really helped them. And so I came home this evening, and heated up some soup, and cracked open a bottle of wheat beer (not Upland, alas, but I do the best I can with what I have) and finished a novel, and puttered around the flat in my pjs while Austen scurried and ran around under my feet and cooed and purred, and Magdalene looked down upon us both with deep disdain. I played my New Age internet radio, and talked to Michael and my sister, and played Sudoku. This is my life, right here, this evening. The only moment I am guaranteed, this Now. It’s not bad at all—pleasant, and quiet. Not lonely, but solitary.

My first paycheck should come in at the end of July. Aside from the requisite bills and rent (oh god, I will be able to make rent on my own, thankyoujebus) I will indulge in a couple of things that, in the past few weeks, I have come to view as luxuries: A broom and dustpan. Collars and tags for the cats. Razors refills. A bottle of wine. I might actually go hog wild and buy myself a vacuum. It’s nice to know the drought has a definite end-date.

In a very fitting end to the day, I brought home the last box that I made from Indiana to the library. It was a box of books—mainly history books, and nineteenth century fiction. It was rather poetic: on the day I began my first professional job, my first day as a real adult, away from school, I busted out some solid ties to my past, my former life as a student of history and Victorian studies (party like it’s 1899, people), a very pretentious pseudo-scholar. I take myself (a little) less seriously these days, sure, but the history nerd is still in there. I have retained that part of myself, for I am the sum of all my lessons, all the people I have known, the places I have traveled, the emotions I have experienced, the knowledge I have gained. I may be a professional, I may be a librarian, I may never be a student again, and my youth may slip into the inevitable weariness and resignation of middle age…but I am still me. I am still the pompous history nerd, the jaded library science student, the idealistic librarian, the screwball baby sister, the too-blunt social liability that uses words like "snot" and "cock" way too much. I am all of it. I might be changing, I might be trying to be happier and more confident and brave and tolerant and forgiving and less...crass? (Boo!) I might be trying to chuck out the less pleasant aspects of my personality. But by god, I will hang onto that core part of me that got me here, in SoCal, all alone, in one piece, and a hopeful smiling piece at that.

I just might not talk about bluestockings and the volk as much. Somehow those were never good ice-breakers at a party.

There's Irrational Fears. And Then There's Just Plain Ol' Reasonable Worry

I had a lovely list of July Resolutions going on in my head, but after a long conversation with John the Saint, it occurred to me that if I am lucky, I will be getting my first paycheck at the end of July. Which means that all potential goals are superceded by the all-encompassing concern of finding a way to pay the August rent. July goals be damned!

Oooh, however, I can work this to my advantage. One of my goals in July will be to lose 15 pounds. Seeing as howmy fridge will be bare, this should not be hard.

It's time to have a talk with the cats to see what they can contribute to their maintenance. Maybe Magdalene can pimp herself out as a hired thug; after all, she's got everyone in this apartment under her paw.

It's Too Hot Even To Be Lazy

Hey, all of you people that say that SoCal is not so bad, yeah it gets hot, but it's a dry heat, and it's so much more bearable without the humidity? Yeah, to hell with you and the mirage you rode in on. Once it passes the 100 degree mark, it's just plain effing, miserably, ridiculously hot. And right now, it's 105 out there.

My sister Mango Lassi works at a health food store in New Jersey (I know, I know, we can't all be as cool as her) and informs me that people come into the store and ask her if she sells cigarettes. Are people that obtuse everywhere, or is that just a New Jersey thing? Or is it that New Jersey encourages the sale of cigarettes everywhere in an effort to shorten the lives their residents? Sort of a state-sanctioned euthanasia? Really. Cigarettes. At A HEALTH FOOD STORE. Get with it, people. Smoking is out, health food is in. They can't both be cool together.

I think my Hintbug list might be getting out of hand. I just added a 5-night stay at Sandals Royal Bahamian to the list. Well, it's fun to dream. Maybe I will scout out some Santorinian, Tahitian, and Italian resorts while I am at it. I have to do something to keep myself occupied until the job starts. Because, you know, the whole reading over the literature thing is really not working out:

Clearly Austen thinks I should not prep any more.
Clearly Austen has never endured one of my reference interviews.

Magdalene is still being a wretch. Half the time, I want to throttle her, but the other half of the time, I am too impressed to scold. Take this morning's incident, for example:

This morning, Pre-Havoc: I had a form in my in-box that I had yet to fill out.

Magdalene decided to take matters into her own paws, and took charge of the backlog.

She doesn't like it when I hover over her shoulder. She's a prefectionist, and the whole lack-of-thumbs thing can be frustrating when she's dealing with these complicated forms.

She works best in an unstructured environment. Don't pressure her!