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!

Monday Musings

1. Most fitting--I've got the Pretenders' "Back on the Chain Gang" going through my head.
2. When I was studying European history, many moons ago, I read of a concept known as "lebensraum." It's German for living space, and that was one of Hitler's kooky motivations for being...well, a crazy asshole. He thought Germans needed more living space. Demented, no? Unfortunately, my ass is staying true to its German origins, and has decided that it, too, needs more living space. And has started to expand. If it invades Russia or tries to torment some historical scapegoats, I'm going to be very concerned.
3. It might rain or snow or something this evening. Yay!
4. For the first time yesterday, I did some of my shopping at Trader Joe's. I fear I might be addicted to their veggie chips. Whether or not this has anything to do with my ass's expansionist tendencies remains to be seen.
5. Last night, I watched A Scanner Darkly. All's I have to say is...Dude. I need to watch that movie about ten more times to really take it all in.

Okay, kids. Another day, another dollar. Back on the chain gang...

The Price We Pay To Survive

One of the more quaint (NOT antiquated) characteristics about me is that I like to write letters. Wordy, sturdy letters, written on nice stationery, sent through snail-mail. I like to light a candle in the evening, turn on my New-Agey music, and scribble away. Fortunately for me, I do have someone to whom I write, that also enjoys writing, and for the past three years, we have been sending letters to each other, back and forth. Not always in a timely manner, but dammit, we write. My penpal's name is Kim; he and I attended college together (I was getting my bachelor's in history, he his master's) and eventually I helped him prep for his comps.
In Kim's most recent letter to me, he told me about moving to Austin, Texas, and the life he is striving to attain for himself and his partner out there. Right now, it's just a dream, but he's working hard to make it a reality. He described this dream to me in detail in his letter--evocative, sensory-rich details, and the descriptions were so vivid, I found it hard to believe that this was not actually already reality.

I envy him that dream. Because, as much as I want to, I can't do it, can't cook up dreams like that. I want to be able to do that, and I used to be able to do that--oh, god, I used to dream of a townhouse in Broad Ripple, with copper pots and pans and a study with walls painted a lovely cornflower blue, and a little back patio where Michael and I grew flowers, and a kitty and maybe a doggy, and a library job appearing miraculously, and quiet years spent in a quiet city, with friends, and a lovely home, and fulfilling jobs, and in the fullness of time, some children.

I used to be able to dream like that, you see. And god, those dreams were lovely. It's been almost a year since my dreams bitch-smacked me back down into reality, and while I have pretty much come to terms with it, one thing hasn't gone back to "normal." I'm no longer able (or maybe only no longer willing) to have dreams like that. It hurts too much when you lose those dreams. And I am afraid to dream, or at least I don't know how to. The only plans I make are short term, like over the next year or two, and all of them are related to things in my immediate sphere--my career and my apartment, for example, or a trip I plan to take in a few months. Nothing, no dreams with Arash. I want to be able to do that--regardless of whether or not he's a willing part of them--but I am too tired still, too scared, too worried that I will look like a fool. And so, I don't dream about our future. I am plain too scared. Or cautious? Or wise, even? I just quietly go through each day, and I'm happy for each day I have with him.

Someday I will learn how to dream again.

2007: The Year Ahead

Yes, yes, I know. We are more than halfway through the month, and I am just now starting to work on the whole 2007 Resolutions/To Do/To Don't List...but hey, I was sick at the beginning of the month, and for the past week I have been juggling various crises.

Maybe "don't procrastinate and make lame excuses" should be at the top of the list.

Finances:

1. Pay off my credit card debt left over from the move (already about halfway there! Wooo!)
2. Pay off one of my private loan from Sallie Mae (assholes)
3. Save receipts, record all purchases

Professional Development:

1. Update my resume every 6 weeks
2. Update my work blog very regularly
3. Attend ALA in Washington this summer
4. Set deadlines, and stick with them
5. Remember this: Every taxpayer is my boss
6. Read all the Caldecott and Newbery Award-winners
7. Do monthly genre studies

Friendships/Relationships/Community:

1. Remember everyone's birthday, and send their cards on time
2. Be prompt in returning emails and letters
3. Become a Big Sister

Physical Care:

1. Drink lots and lots of water
2. Start using gym pass
3. Take vitamins and medications on time
4. Get teeth cleaned
5. Moisturize and use sunblock, copiously
6. Strive to take good care of possessions: hang up clothes, iron items, polish shoes, don't get things so dirty!
7. Learn how to apply eyeshadow with some degree of skill
8. Floss
9. Cut back on junk food. I do pretty well with the no fast food, and have sworn off beef. Now, must do this...

Homemaking:

1. Start cooking, dammit.
2. Learn how to mend
3. Spend 15 minutes each day, cleaning up after myself
4. Get a couple of (non-poisonous) houseplants

Travel:

1. Take a road trip to San Francisco
2. Fly back to Daytona at Thanksgiving
3. Visit Palm Springs
4. Visit San Diego

Creative Ventures/Hobbies:

1. Learn to knit
2. Learn to make jewelry
3. Write more--writing prompts, letters, journal entries, short stories, poetry, haikus, lists, freewrites, research, ideas for novels
4. Try to go on a hike at least once a month
5. Learn Dreamweaver, and how to design my own blog

Spiritual Development:

1. Read Desiderata every day
2. Meditate

Purchases, Little Indulgences:

1. George Foreman Grill, water filter, vegetable steamer, and electric wok
2. Papasan chair
3. End table
4. Bedside table lamp
5. Featherbed mattress
6. "Taste of Home Cookbook"
7. Replace hubcap on car
8. Get car door handles fixed
9. Get car detailed

To Don't

Don't get dumped in a student union! In fact, don't go to any student unions, for any reason!

Don't cry like a bitch with a skinned knee for an entire month if I get dumped. Moping occasionally is okay. Lying on the floor of friends' apartments, sobbing and hyperventilating? Not so much.

Don't sabotage the relationship with the boyfriend. Sure, I've got a lot of issues and hangups left from the last relationship that carries over into this one. Sure, I have my fears. But DON'T SABOTAGE.

Don't spend a lot of time thinking about small-minded Italian women who hate me. If I don't forgive, I am allowing them to live in my head, rent-free. And we all know how expensive rent is here in SoCal.

Don't swear so much.

Don't lost all my nail-files, lip balms, and pens.

Don't procrastinate

Don't think negatively, or anticipate. I don't know what the future holds, so it's unfair to project...

You'd Have to Know Us To Get How Not Serious This Is...

Funniest conversation ever:

M: I think you need to move back to Bloomington and become a librarian at the Kinsey Library.

Me: I think I am underqualified. I think they would want me to get a PhD in sex.

M: Oooh! I'll help you study!

Thoughts Before Sleep

Hot damn, it's cold. Bitterly cold. Colder-than-a-stepmother's-breast cold. And it's windy, too--there's a wind roaring through the palm trees and through the eaves and down the heating vent. I didn't imagine that California would be like this--not that I am complaining. It's hard to be disappointed in a place when it's cold and windy outside but cozy inside, and one is tucked up in bed, with a kitty curled up beside them, and a laptop for company. It's a good life.

Today I had to drive out to Redlands for a couple of errands, and on the way out, I passed by a HUGE tumbleweed by the side of the freeway. Not just any tumbleweed, mind you, but a weird-ass tumbleweed that was all big and poofy like a bad 80s hair-do, and that had all sorts of trash and debris and tire-tread caught up in it. It was a bizarre, yet perfectly fitting, natural collage that represented California quite beautifully.
I didn't expect to like it out here as much as I do. How much of that has to do with my friends and Arash, my super cheap rent and ideal living situation, I don't know--but I do know that I am one lucky girl.