Sunday Sighs

When I was little, I didn't like Sundays. I would spend all weekend with my beloved grandparents, and then on Sunday evenings, they would drive me back home to my mother's. My during-the-week home. There was nothing wrong with it, really, I just didn't fit in there. And I was miserable every Sunday night. My poor mother must have been very hurt, every time mopey me would come home, hug my grandmother good-bye, and slump off to my room.

Now, years later, I am not sure all that much has changed. I like Sundays because they are my days off. But one of two things invariably ends up happening: I end up spending the day with one of my girlfriends or the boyfriend, or else I am at home all day, doing various chores. And there's nothing wrong with either of those scenarios, it's just...there's no happy medium. Either I am out having a nice time, and not getting anything done, or I am at home, getting stuff done and feeling a little lonely.

This Sunday, it's me, at home, cleaning, working on my "Vision Board", trying to dodge the cats. And I am feeling a little empty, a little lonely. I think it's because, back in Indiana with Michael and Florida with John, I got in the habit of viewing Sunday as "Couple's Day." One of the few times I would have to spend with my significant other, and yeah, we'd have to do pain-in-the-ass chores--laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping--but it was still fun and pleasant because I would be doing with the partner, and it would feel like there was a point to it.

And now...big adjustment. No laundry facilities. And just me. And yes, I know there is still a point to it--I am not a completely useless female that cannot stand to be alone--but it's just not the same.

Introducing Melissa, Librarian to the Stars

I am back in the game! I have been annoying a lot of people with my complete and total neglect of this here website. So, here goes. I will try to throw in some relevant stuff, and not make it one complete "here's what's going on in my life" kinda deals.

The setting: my living room at Chez Ghetto, late afternoon. It's a cloudy, warm spring day outside. There's a lot of birds tweeting, and the neighborhood rooster is crowing. (It's surreal). Sunnydale gets seasons, more than I expected of SoCal, and as a result, there's a lot of trees and bushes and flowers blooming. My cat Austen is asleep on top of the couch, and judging by his twitching paws and occasional grunts, he is dreaming.

What do cats dream about? And do they understand what is happening? I mean, do they know to distinguish their sleeping dreams from their waking realities? Humans understand the concept of sleep, and its necessity, and that the images we see in our brains while we are asleep, we understand as dreams. But do cats grasp that concept? I'm not articulating this very well.

Recently, some of the folks in my life have started talking about The Secret. Now, all of my librarian friends out there, you may have gotten some requests for this book/DVD. There haven't been any reviews for it in the publications we read, but it's getting hugely popular, and it's been pictured in PW a couple of times on the bestseller list.

What's the secret? That's not for me to tell. I am deeply ambivalent about the whole thing--it's completely new-agey self-help--but with an essentially positive message. In a word, it's the New Age variation of "God helps those who help themselves" or "with faith you can move mountains"...and the implication being, if that damned mountain doesn't budge, you must not have believed hard enough.

Hrmph.

But I am all about positive thinking, and projecting what I want "out there". So slowly, I am implementing the Secret, we will see what comes of this in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

And what else? I have to write a couple of rejection letters at work. Hurrah for administrative experience!