Freaky Friday

So, the most interesting thing happened at work today. The Internets died.

No kidding! I've often wondered what would happen if the Internets broke down while I was at work--in fact, earlier this week I was talking to the personnel director about it, and then, whoops! No Internets. I'm not sure we'll have it tomorrow, either.

And did the earth stop spinning? Did we all huddle into a corner and beg for Mommy? Were there mass riots? Did we become completely incompetent reference librarians? The answer to all of this is, of course, no. Some patrons got a little grumpy when they realized that they could not get their internet fix, but that was all. Thank goodness, our workflows program was still working, so we could at least look up books in our collection for the patrons, so we were not completely crippled. Honestly, though, I'm a little ambivalent. I LOVE the Internet, and cell phones, and technology, but it really scares me how deeply dependent we are on technology. I always ask the reference librarians with whom I work, "Okay, if you had gotten such-and-such a question fifteen years ago, how would you have answered it? What sources would you have consulted?" I envy my colleagues the years of reference experience they had without being able to rely on the Internet; I envy them the resourcefulness and knowledge they cultivated that I suspect that I, and most other librarians of my generation, completely lack. So a part of me actually rejoiced (very quietly) when the Internets went away. It was a great excuse for me to be thrown back on my own resources and print-knowledge. Of course, I had a lot of things working in my favor: our workflows program was still running, I was working with a seasoned and very good-natured librarian, and business slowed down A LOT once people realized the Internet gnomes were striking, and so there weren't a lot of demands or pressures.

But who knows? Tomorrow's another day, and the Internets might still be down. Either way, it's all good...but then, the patrons might not see it like that. Maybe I should don a kevlar vest, just in case!

Last Night I Dreamt I Went to Manderly Again...

Okay, maybe not Manderley. More like Indiana-ley. It was a sad dream; in it I was still living in Indiana, as I was in 2006, and I was packing up to leave for California. It was one of those weirdo dreams when things were very complicated--I didn't have a job in California, in my dream, but I was moving there anyway. And then it occurred to me: Why the hell would I want to move to California? Doing that would be a very bad idea.

I was basically re-living the reluctance, the dread, the unhappiness that I experienced before I moved out here in June of '06. That was a move I absolutely did not want to make, and I think a part of me tried to delay it as much as possible. A part of me was immersed in misery, when I prepared for that move. It was a time filled with partings, and it was a time that I don't like to think on too much. I loved my time in Indianapolis--I had my dream life there after all, if only for three or four weeks--but it was clouded by California looming overhead. I don't like remembering it--so why the heck did I have to dream about it? Sometimes dreams are more vivid than memories, and more painful too.

Listening to a Prophet

The first time I heard of Kahlil Gibran and The Prophet, I was eighteen years old. I was flirting with this boy, Tommy. Tommy Gibran was his name, although his birth name was Kahlil Gibran. My father read The Prophet, Tommy said, he read The Prophet and it changed his life. So he changed his name to Kahlil Gibran and named me, his son, the same. But I go by Tommy.

I nodded, and briefly wondered what The Prophet was about, that it could be so life-changing. And then I focused on Tommy again, and flirting. In hindsight, I wish I spent less time flirting--Tommy ended up being an AWFUL kisser--and more time grilling hiim on this Prophet thing. But then, I am not sure Tommy would have known much more about it. He was a punk, Tommy was, and I am fairly sure he was involved in some insurance scam.

Anyway. The Prophet.

I have encountered that author and that title more, now that I have entered my educated, librarian years. So I finally checked it out yesterday, and have begun to read it. I'm not sure what to expect; I think maybe on some level I am looking for some sort of life-altering experience. But I am older now, and I think with maturity comes a certain unflappability, a certain stability that prevents you from being easily swayed by persuasive arguments. Maybe common sense, experience, and maturity are what settle us, make us more sedate, less fired up. But I still want to be open to at least the possibility of life-altering experiences...let's see what The Prophet can do for me. It's got to be more life-altering than Tommy's kissing style!

Greetings to the New Year! It's Going to Be Fabulous!

As always, a day late and a dollar short. But better late than never.

Bring it on, 2008! I will MAKE you be an awesome year. I shall beat you into submitting to my goals, plans, ambitions, and wishes. Because I have a Plan. And yes, we all know that life is what happens when you make plans, but nevertheless...

I do have a few New Years' resolutions, sure, but I think that those are a little tricky. They are vague and nebulous, and can always be put off until by the end of the year, you're like, "well, shit, another year over, a new one just begun, no filled resolutions and I am a lame-o." So, I am thinking...New Month Resolutions! I am going to attempt to set goals for each month, kind of like an action plan. Plus, it means I get to make a list, and we all know that making a list is elixir and inspiration for the soul. At least for my twisted, neurotic soul. I think if I were told I were dying, my first reaction would be to make a list. But I am not dying, hurrah! although lists are still here, waiting to be made.

So! January resolutions.

1.) I am going to try to jog three times a week

2.) I am going to purchase a wall calendar, record important birthdays, and try to remember to send cards. (My mom's birthday is today--whoops!)

3.) I am going to cook at least one new meal a week. Bonus points for being heart-healthy.

4.) I am going to get a Palm Springs Library card and check out/read the following books: Change Your Home, Change Your Life and Making Peace With the Things In Your Life.

5.) I am going to write a personal vision statement.

6.) I am going to purchase a fabulous outfit for my January Literary Lunch Booktalk.

7.) I am going to check out and watch some Yoga videos from the library.

8.) I am going to have a cleaning plan for my home--every day, I will perform a few cleaning tasks.

(This one in particular is important. I am weird: I feel like I cannot do anything until I have the perfect setting, and let's face it, things at Chez Ghetto are rarely perfect. But it's ridiculous to try to hold off on life until everything is perfect. I know so many women, myself included, who do not want to learn anything because they want to be perfect at it right away. I am the same. And in particular, I feel like my surroundings need to be perfect. Bah. I want to be fabulous, but I don't want to be less than perfect at it, and so I put it off by saying "I can't do this or that because the house is a mess!" That's right, folks, I am putting off fabulousness because of dirty dishes. The least I can do is to make routine cleanliness a not-too-time-consuming habit, and let that be part of the fabulousness, but not the goal, and not the thing that prevents me from attaining it.

So, happy 2008! Let our cups overfloweth with fabulousness!

Weekend Discoveries

Never a dull moment in California-land, right? Yeah sure. Nevertheless, every now and then I do something pleasant, or diverting, or discover something new. So here's what happened this weekend:

Yesterday Arash and I went to the LA Car Show. Okay, so it was more his gig than mine, but I'm a good girlfriend and went along for the ride. And as a result, I discovered my true love:

Yeah. Whoda thunk it? Me? In love with a bmw? Well, let's look on the bright side. It will remain an unrequited love. I will remain faithful to Corollas, if only because they are far more befitting a librarian of my status.

2. English Huntsman cheese: Thank you, Trader Joe's! It's a combination of Gloucester (I'm pretty sure it's pronounced "Gloster" but that's pretty irrelevant seeing as how it won't remain in my fridge long enough to matter) and Stilton. Now, normally Stilton's too strong, even for me. Its smell alone (back when I used to be able to smell) reminds me of some of very nasty things rotting in the fridge (and in my fridge, there's no shortage of that), but in this cheese, the Stilton was just perfect. Strong enough to announce that it IS a blue cheese, dammit, but not strong enough to remind me of dead things.

3. The movie Marie Antoinette. Now that I am a working woman, I am more able to catch up with many books and movies, and this is one of them that I have been meaning to watch for a while. It looked--and felt--a little anachronistic at first, but the movie managed to retain enough "vintage" feel to it to remain the kind of lush historical drama that I dig.

Well, the weekend is still going on...let' see what fun and exciting things I might come across tomorrow.

Over and out.

8 Things

Here are the rules of engagement: Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 4 people and posts their blog names, then hopes they notice they have been tagged and continue this chain ad nauseum. I got tagged by one of my Library Ladies, SneakyPanda/Librarisaurus Rex, like, 4 freaking months ago, but because I am a half-hearted blogger, it took me this long to notice and respond. Dur.

1. I am completely and utterly careless when it comes to certain things: pencils and pens, lip balm, and nail files. I lose them all the time, and I have no idea why. I guess the only acceptable explanation is that it's the absent-minded facet of my genius character. Or something.

2. Several people have noted this: when I am talking on the phone, I pace, or (more disturbingly) if I am sitting on the bed, I rock back and forth. I'd love to say I am autistic, but god knows I've got very little genius-savant talent. And I am pretty sure I just pissed off a whole gaggle of autism-advocates with that ridculously ignorant generalization.

3. I talk in my sleep, a lot. I've held entire conversations, and can get very forceful if I think the person in my dreams is not listening. My personal favorite declaration: "We took the crooked staircase to Ankle Island!" Sure--just keep on walking, there.

4. I get really, really annoyed with people who park their vehicles in an askew manner.

5. I don't know how to ride a bike.

6. About 3-5 times a week, I dream about tornadoes. I am fairly certain this is how I am going to die.

7. One of my long-cherished dreams is to one day have a playroom filled with toys from my childhood. Thank god for ebay.
8. I keep a WRITTEN list of questions I am going to ask the Higher Power (if there is such a thing) when I die. So far, there's only a couple of questions:

-What happened to the Princes in the Tower?

-Who the HELL was Jack the Ripper?

Alright, I tag...Brittany, Laurie (not sure she still reads this), my sister Sarah, and Florida Jen. Get to it, ladies!

Back on the Air

"I've never really ever found a place that I called home,

I've never stuck around quite long enough to make it..."
Right now, I really don't have the energy to explain my absence. Anyway, there's not really that good of an explanation. Maybe I've just been lazy. I certainly have been avoiding my apartment, which has gone from Chez Ghetto to Chez Furnace in the presence of western exposure and in the absence of central air.

Maybe at some point I will reflect on my various doings of the past half year, but today isn't that day. Why? Because today is Sunday. And Sunday is the day for melancholic, rambling posts that don't really go anywhere but leave you, dear reader, plenty depressed.

Various circumstances (by and large GOOD circumstances) have led me to lately contemplate attempting to find an apartment in the desert. I'm not moving anywhere just yet, but I certainly am gathering information. And in this information-gathering process, I fell in love. I guess you could call it an unrequited love, as I am pretty damned sure I don't share a future with the object of my affection. But I am nonetheless completely, 100%, head-over-heels in love (okay, obsessed).

It's an apartment, a ridiculously undersized, overpriced apartment. The appeal? Hardwood floors, a fireplace, french doors, casement windows, central air, washer and dryer, a huge back porch, cats are allowed. It's got more character than me after I've pounded five shots of goldschlagger. But it's just too much, and I know it. But still I pine.

All weekend, I've been thinking about it. And when I came home on this lonely Sunday, as I began to clean my slum home, I was still thinking about it. And to cheer myself up, I decided that the proper medicine lay in the archives of Crazy Aunt Purl. If anyone could cheer me up, it would be her. And then I started thinking about her, in her cozy little valley home that she has hated for a while...and how she finally decided that now was the right time--in fact the only time--to start living her life and making her rented space into a home. And that got me thinking about my own circumstances--how it seems like I have never stayed in once place for more than a year for a very long time, and why the hell do I keep picking up sticks and going elsewhere? I am never satisfied, I am always looking for a better place. Always picturing myself being happier, more creative and productive, at the next place, not the current abode.
And that got me to the point where I had a Purl-esque revelation. I'm never going to find the one perfect place with lots of character that will inspire me to lead that ideal life. All the hardwood floors and french doors just won't do it. It's going to have to come from me, I am going to have to have the balls and initiative and energy and discipline enough to do it, regardless of where I live. So I need to just latch on to whatever common sense is lurking right now and make sure I don't go completely stupid and lock myself into a place that I can't afford, just to chase the rainbow of the perfect life that is waiting with the perfect place.

There is no perfect. There is just now, and good enough with improvements always being made. I'm going to still look for a place, and eventually move there. I will settle for the basis--central air, and please god a w/d hookup. Maybe a balcony. But I won't pay out the nose for a perfection that just won't come.