I am not a religious person. Spiritual? Yes. Religious? Not exactly. I have a life surrounded by people from various different religious backgrounds and I see nothing wrong with any them. You need to believe in what you know is right.
With that being said, an interesting interaction happened between me and the sweetest old man at the library yesterday.
It happened towards the end of the day, late afternoon because we close at 5:00pm on Saturdays. He walked in while I was checking out books to a girl about my age and said to her, "That girl right there" -- aka me -- "she can tell you the answer to anything you want to know."
At first I thought he was trying to be a prick, like that girl right there, she thinks she's so smart but watch out for her...
But I quickly realized that he wasn't joking and that he was just trying to be nice. So I said back, "You're putting a lot of faith in the answers of a person you don't know." And he laughed.
The girl left and he walked up to the counter and told me he was looking for a book on the Hebrew alphabet. He'd taken a specific one out before, but he couldn't remember the title, but he'd like to have that one again.
Unfortunately, our system doesn't keep a list of books people have previously checked out for privacy reasons. This has been a major complaint from a lot of our patrons. But we just can't, because there isn't an option in our system to do so. And also we just don't, because we don't want judgements passed on people based on the type of books they check out. I think this is reasonable.
So needless to say I couldn't just look this book up for this smiley old grandpa even though I would have been all too happy to do so. And I told him that, which he said was perfectly understandable. As I searched our system for books that matched his description, he laughed at the speed of my typing.
"Done this a few times before?" He asked.
"Just a few." I replied.
I found a few titles that I thought might match his book, but none of them rang a bell. So I decided to direct him to the reference desk.
"They're better than me at finding things," I explained. "They could find anything really. I'm even pretty sure they know where all of the world's lost socks are, they just haven't told us yet."
With a thank you, the man walked off to the reference desk in further search of this mysterious Hebew alphabet book.
Around fifteen minutes later he was back.
"Well, they've found one," he said all smiles still. "They're sending out for it. But in the meantime, I'm going to check this one out, too. It looks useful."
"Excellent," I said taking the book from him. "I'm so happy you were able to find what you were looking for."
"You are a blessing," he said.
And I froze. I don't usually like it when people say things like this to me. It makes me uncomfortable.
"It's true," he explained. "Do you know what a blessing is?"
I said that I wasn't really sure, cringing just a little, but not enough to show. It's not that I didn't want him to call me a "blessing," because he most certainly could... it's just once someone starts saying things like "blessing" the conversation usually goes down a road I'm not too fond of talking about. I didn't want him to ruin his sweet-old-man-ness by trying to turn me to the path of God.
So he explained to me what a blessing was, which to be honest, I've mostly forgotten. But it was very sweet what he explained it to be. Almost as if he knew I didn't want him to tell me how great God was and how I should know that He is watching out for me.
"Well, thank you." I said, unsure of what the best possible response was.
Okay, so he was just being nice. It was kind of sweet to be honest. I handed his book back to him.
"May God bless you," he said so genuinely and heartfelt that I thought I might literally burst into flames. I even had to hold up my arms in front of me to make sure I was still standing. Because, whatever I may or may not believe, I was sure that at that moment I might have been struck down because this random old man decided to waste his most sincere blessing on a girl he barely knew.
Unsure how to properly respond, I went with, "Thanks. You too."
Then I felt stupid.
That wasn't right, was it? I thought. People don't say, "you too!" to something like this. They say... well, what do they say?!
"Have a nice day!" I continued, waving as he walked away.
And then I realized... of all the religious people I have ever met in my life, of any belief or denomination, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, etc., this mysterious old man was the first one I had ever met that had moved me in any way what-so-ever. And all he said was, "May God bless you."
I felt this way because it was so overwhelming to know that a complete stranger could so unaffectedly say something to me that very obviously meant so much to them. It didn't feel fake or contrived or forceful. But honest, like I think it is supposed to be.
The trials and adventures of a 22 year old actress, book worm, and postcard enthusiast.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
The Incompetence Test
It all started two days ago when the power went out. The alarm clock next to my bed flashed 12:00pm for 48 hours straight because I didn't have to work yesterday and it seemed pointless to set the time. It wasn't until I was getting into bed late last night that I even bothered to touch it and set the alarm for work today.
Yet I woke up this morning not by my alarm. Not even naturally on my own. But by my roommate coming to see if I should be up for work before she left for class. Thank God she did, because I'd set the alarm for 7:45pm, not 7:45am. As I would learn later, this was a subtle prelude to the day I was about to have.
My morning shift at the library was slower than usual. Or maybe a lot slower than usual. As time progressed I seemed to have less and less to do, and around two o'clock I'd run out of busy work completely. There weren't even any books that needed shelved. And there were always books that needed shelved. That's how mind-numbingly slow we were.
With an hour left, I struggled to make work for myself. I'd straightened books on the shelf, emptied all the drop boxes, rearranged the paperback exchange books two or three times. So when the phone rang, I jumped at the chance for something to do.
I've never had a problem answering phones at the places I've worked. Some people shy away from phones not wanting to speak to someone they can't see. It makes them feel uncomfortable or discombobulated. Which is completely understandable. I get it. It's weird.
Picking up the phone I answered with the usual, "Circulation. This is Megan speaking. How may I help you?"
And typically it's just people calling in to renew books or see how much they owe in fines. No big deal. I have the computer in front of me. I pull up their information. The call is over in two minutes flat.
Occasionally we get calls for other things. "What time does such-and-such program begin?" or "I think my group booked the meeting room for five o'clock next Wednesday, but we really actually need it at four. How can I fix this?"
And then there are calls like the one I'd just doomed myself by answering. Elderly patrons asking about how to work eBooks.
Before I get into too much detail I'd just like to point out that it's sometimes difficult enough to explain eBooks to tech-savvy 20-somethings while they're standing in front of you. Getting into the gritty details with people who don't have the biggest grip on the latest technology... well... it's a bloody nightmare.
Lending books via the internet is still a new enough concept for a number of people that it takes a lot of explaining and trial-and-error for them to really understand.
The first, and sometimes biggest, challenge is to get people to understand that they cannot borrow books using a Nook. Nook is owned by Barnes and Noble and it is only through Barnes and Noble that you can buy and lend books on one of their readers. So many people come in with their new Nooks saying, "Oh, I got this especially because I knew I could borrow library books, too!"
Wrong. I don't know who told you that. It certainly wasn't a library staff member or the guy selling you the Nook at the local B&N because we all know better.
It is also not possible to borrow books on the Kindle... unless you have a Kindle Fire. And even then, you have to go into your system and change settings that allow you to install applications from unknown sources. This process alone is confusing enough for some people to handle. And that's only just the beginning.
To borrow books from our vendor, you really just need a device with an internet connection and the ability to download apps. This usually includes desktops, laptops, netbooks, tablets, smart phones, etc. Not eReaders. While this may seem nonsensical, it's because most eReaders (like alluded to before) can only download books from certain platforms and don't allow third-party downloads.
So, with this basic knowledge in mind, I resume my story...
"Hello, I have a question about your eBooks. I'm looking online and I wanted to know how to download them."
Sigh. I hate these questions. Because despite the fact that we have a really useful and detailed guide to eReaders and Magic Wall (our eBook interface) on the homepage of our library's website, people are too lazy to use it and decide to call instead expecting us to walk them through the process, step by god-damn step. Get your shit together people! Take advantage of the tools we provide you.
"Yes, sir, I can help you with that. Just give me a moment to bring up Magic Wall so I can see what I'm doing as I explain it to you."
When I get on the webpage, he has already confirmed that he is on it as well. Assuming he has already downloaded Blio (the app needed to view/read borrowed books) because he's asking how to download them, I go into my spiel about how to search/download books on the application. He then stops me about 3/4 of the way through and says, "I'm on the page you told me to go to, but I can't see more than five books. How do I see more?"
After asking him if he's scrolling down the page (apparently yes) or if he has changed his Magic Wall settings (apparently no), I suggest trying to re-load the page. When that doesn't work I put him on hold and go ask my boss if she has any suggestions. She's just as perplexed as me. 153 book matches, only five books showing... hmm...
I get back on the phone and while my boss stands beside me listening, we both try to figure out this guy's problem. Not that either of us particularly care that he can only see five results, but because he's been such a dick about figuring it out. "Well, I can only see five. I don't know what you're looking at." "This program doesn't work." "Figure it out!"
After about five minutes of going over any possible solution with this guy (who only gets ruder and ruder), it turns out that he wasn't scrolling down the page after all.
Yes. That is right. This dumb old shithead doesn't know how to work a webpage. He's scrolling down the page, yes. But he's not scrolling the text box that the book matches appear in. (Even though I asked him if he was also doing that.)
So, problem solved, right? Wrong.
"Now I need to know how to set up a Blio account."
...what? He doesn't have one? How is that possible after all I just went over?? You can't download books unless you have a Blio account.
"Sir, there is a step-by-step guide on how to download Blio onto your device and set up an account with them on our website. Perhaps you would like to take a look at that. I can show you how to get there."
"No. I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? Just tell me how to do it."
So then he goes into this story about how he tried to set up an account, but it won't let him. A webpage loads that says the service is not available and to try again later.
"Sir, this sounds like a problem with Blio. This isn't something I can help you with. It's possible their servers are down. Perhaps you should try again later."
"I ALREADY TRIED AGAIN LATER!"
"Sir, what device are you using your Blio application on?"
"My Kindle."
If it were possible to stick my hand through the phone and slap him across his dumb wrinkly face, believe me, I would have at that moment.
"Sir, the Blio application does not work on any Kindle except the Kindle Fire. Do you have a Kindle Fire?"
"No, but my wife does."
"Ok, but are you using her Kindle Fire?"
"No."
Moron!
"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to have a Kindle Fire in order to create an account with Blio and to properly download books from the Magic Wall."
"Well, that is not what I was told. I was just there yesterday and someone told me that this is fine. Obviously you don't know what you're talking about. Who is the expert on eBooks? I want to talk to them! You keep interrupting someone near you for help. You are incompetent. Let me speak to the eBook expert!"
Excuse me? I am what? Did you just say what I think you said? After I have been perfectly nice and very accommodating seeing as you've now wasted 10 minutes of my time, you have the audacity to tell me that I'm incompetent?
Eyes narrowed, fists clenched, and voice restrained I simply replied...
"Dear sir I think you need a massive reality check. It is very clear that you are the incompetent one. Thank you for calling. Have a nice dayyy!" Click.
No, I'm totally kidding.
But I did hand the phone over to one of my co-workers who then proceeded to go through the exact same thing with the prick.
After talking with her, he insisted on speaking to the library director so he could complain about both me and my co-worker.
Did I mention he also told my co-worker that I was incompetent? She then proceeded to tell him that he was being irrational and needed to calm down. All anyone could do was laugh at this man's ignorance. We all felt a bit sorry for him really...
Oh, and as it turns out, his wife is a regular caller to the reference department where she proceeds to time how long it takes them to find information for her. She then comes in and "tells" on them to our branch manager.
Really people? Get a life.
Yet I woke up this morning not by my alarm. Not even naturally on my own. But by my roommate coming to see if I should be up for work before she left for class. Thank God she did, because I'd set the alarm for 7:45pm, not 7:45am. As I would learn later, this was a subtle prelude to the day I was about to have.
My morning shift at the library was slower than usual. Or maybe a lot slower than usual. As time progressed I seemed to have less and less to do, and around two o'clock I'd run out of busy work completely. There weren't even any books that needed shelved. And there were always books that needed shelved. That's how mind-numbingly slow we were.
With an hour left, I struggled to make work for myself. I'd straightened books on the shelf, emptied all the drop boxes, rearranged the paperback exchange books two or three times. So when the phone rang, I jumped at the chance for something to do.
I've never had a problem answering phones at the places I've worked. Some people shy away from phones not wanting to speak to someone they can't see. It makes them feel uncomfortable or discombobulated. Which is completely understandable. I get it. It's weird.
Picking up the phone I answered with the usual, "Circulation. This is Megan speaking. How may I help you?"
And typically it's just people calling in to renew books or see how much they owe in fines. No big deal. I have the computer in front of me. I pull up their information. The call is over in two minutes flat.
Occasionally we get calls for other things. "What time does such-and-such program begin?" or "I think my group booked the meeting room for five o'clock next Wednesday, but we really actually need it at four. How can I fix this?"
And then there are calls like the one I'd just doomed myself by answering. Elderly patrons asking about how to work eBooks.
Before I get into too much detail I'd just like to point out that it's sometimes difficult enough to explain eBooks to tech-savvy 20-somethings while they're standing in front of you. Getting into the gritty details with people who don't have the biggest grip on the latest technology... well... it's a bloody nightmare.
Lending books via the internet is still a new enough concept for a number of people that it takes a lot of explaining and trial-and-error for them to really understand.
The first, and sometimes biggest, challenge is to get people to understand that they cannot borrow books using a Nook. Nook is owned by Barnes and Noble and it is only through Barnes and Noble that you can buy and lend books on one of their readers. So many people come in with their new Nooks saying, "Oh, I got this especially because I knew I could borrow library books, too!"
Wrong. I don't know who told you that. It certainly wasn't a library staff member or the guy selling you the Nook at the local B&N because we all know better.
It is also not possible to borrow books on the Kindle... unless you have a Kindle Fire. And even then, you have to go into your system and change settings that allow you to install applications from unknown sources. This process alone is confusing enough for some people to handle. And that's only just the beginning.
To borrow books from our vendor, you really just need a device with an internet connection and the ability to download apps. This usually includes desktops, laptops, netbooks, tablets, smart phones, etc. Not eReaders. While this may seem nonsensical, it's because most eReaders (like alluded to before) can only download books from certain platforms and don't allow third-party downloads.
So, with this basic knowledge in mind, I resume my story...
"Hello, I have a question about your eBooks. I'm looking online and I wanted to know how to download them."
Sigh. I hate these questions. Because despite the fact that we have a really useful and detailed guide to eReaders and Magic Wall (our eBook interface) on the homepage of our library's website, people are too lazy to use it and decide to call instead expecting us to walk them through the process, step by god-damn step. Get your shit together people! Take advantage of the tools we provide you.
"Yes, sir, I can help you with that. Just give me a moment to bring up Magic Wall so I can see what I'm doing as I explain it to you."
When I get on the webpage, he has already confirmed that he is on it as well. Assuming he has already downloaded Blio (the app needed to view/read borrowed books) because he's asking how to download them, I go into my spiel about how to search/download books on the application. He then stops me about 3/4 of the way through and says, "I'm on the page you told me to go to, but I can't see more than five books. How do I see more?"
After asking him if he's scrolling down the page (apparently yes) or if he has changed his Magic Wall settings (apparently no), I suggest trying to re-load the page. When that doesn't work I put him on hold and go ask my boss if she has any suggestions. She's just as perplexed as me. 153 book matches, only five books showing... hmm...
I get back on the phone and while my boss stands beside me listening, we both try to figure out this guy's problem. Not that either of us particularly care that he can only see five results, but because he's been such a dick about figuring it out. "Well, I can only see five. I don't know what you're looking at." "This program doesn't work." "Figure it out!"
After about five minutes of going over any possible solution with this guy (who only gets ruder and ruder), it turns out that he wasn't scrolling down the page after all.
Yes. That is right. This dumb old shithead doesn't know how to work a webpage. He's scrolling down the page, yes. But he's not scrolling the text box that the book matches appear in. (Even though I asked him if he was also doing that.)
So, problem solved, right? Wrong.
"Now I need to know how to set up a Blio account."
...what? He doesn't have one? How is that possible after all I just went over?? You can't download books unless you have a Blio account.
"Sir, there is a step-by-step guide on how to download Blio onto your device and set up an account with them on our website. Perhaps you would like to take a look at that. I can show you how to get there."
"No. I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? Just tell me how to do it."
So then he goes into this story about how he tried to set up an account, but it won't let him. A webpage loads that says the service is not available and to try again later.
"Sir, this sounds like a problem with Blio. This isn't something I can help you with. It's possible their servers are down. Perhaps you should try again later."
"I ALREADY TRIED AGAIN LATER!"
"Sir, what device are you using your Blio application on?"
"My Kindle."
If it were possible to stick my hand through the phone and slap him across his dumb wrinkly face, believe me, I would have at that moment.
"Sir, the Blio application does not work on any Kindle except the Kindle Fire. Do you have a Kindle Fire?"
"No, but my wife does."
"Ok, but are you using her Kindle Fire?"
"No."
Moron!
"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to have a Kindle Fire in order to create an account with Blio and to properly download books from the Magic Wall."
"Well, that is not what I was told. I was just there yesterday and someone told me that this is fine. Obviously you don't know what you're talking about. Who is the expert on eBooks? I want to talk to them! You keep interrupting someone near you for help. You are incompetent. Let me speak to the eBook expert!"
Excuse me? I am what? Did you just say what I think you said? After I have been perfectly nice and very accommodating seeing as you've now wasted 10 minutes of my time, you have the audacity to tell me that I'm incompetent?
Eyes narrowed, fists clenched, and voice restrained I simply replied...
"Dear sir I think you need a massive reality check. It is very clear that you are the incompetent one. Thank you for calling. Have a nice dayyy!" Click.
No, I'm totally kidding.
But I did hand the phone over to one of my co-workers who then proceeded to go through the exact same thing with the prick.
After talking with her, he insisted on speaking to the library director so he could complain about both me and my co-worker.
Did I mention he also told my co-worker that I was incompetent? She then proceeded to tell him that he was being irrational and needed to calm down. All anyone could do was laugh at this man's ignorance. We all felt a bit sorry for him really...
Oh, and as it turns out, his wife is a regular caller to the reference department where she proceeds to time how long it takes them to find information for her. She then comes in and "tells" on them to our branch manager.
Really people? Get a life.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
The Not-So-Magic Castle
Aside from working at the library, I also work as a team leader at a place that provides children and teens a place to hangout outside of school, that keeps them off the streets, and attempts to enrich their lives in various different ways. For anonymity (and probably legal) reasons, I am going to call this place the Castle. I choose this name specifically because of one little girl, who on her first day said to me, "When my mommy took me here I thought this place was a castle! It looks like a princess lives here." And to this little girl's credit, the building actually does look like some sort of bad mid-twentieth century mash-up of a medieval fortress and Victorian manor. To her dismay, however, the bleak inside didn't quite live up to her royal standards...
When I was interviewing for my job at the Castle, the lady in charge of HR asked me question after question about my history working with children. While I have no formal training what-so-ever, I do have experience volunteering with children from high school (over four years ago keep in mind), performing in children's shows (I am an actress), and babysitting periodically throughout the last eight years. The woman was so enthusiastic about the fact that I had a theatre degree, and kept talking about how I could have the children perform in skits, that I barely got a word in edge-wise. When she asked me about how I would handle certain situations that I may get into with the kids (arguments, fights, temper-tantrums, etc.), I gave my most educated guesses at the best possible answers... which were mostly rip-offs from teaching and education sites I'd found on Google the night before.
So needless to say, I got the job. Yet within the very first few days of working at the Castle, I was already aware of the apparent lack of organization and chaos. They are always short-staffed, their employee turnover is a tad ridiculous, and they don't train very well at all. My third day there, and my first official day on the schedule, I got called in early and had to cover not only my position, but the position of the person who was supposed to work in the same room as me. Basically, on my first official day, I baby-sat upwards of 90 kids, ranging in age from six to eighteen, by myself.
And because this is a place that is supposed to be a sort of haven for these children, they're practically allowed to do whatever they like, provided they follow the rules of the Castle. But this doesn't typically play out right. To the kids, the Castle is their place. Therefore, they get to do whatever they what, whenever they want, however they like. And I can't blame them, they're told from day one that this is a place where they're the ones with the power.
One of the most basic, fundamental rules of the Castle is: no running. Simple enough. But these are children we are talking about. Everyone is running, all the time. And there is no stopping it, but if you're caught not doing something about it, watch out, because you will be talked to about how it is a hazard and you have to do your very best to prevent it. Yeah, right. The back stairs soon became a circus of children sitting in "time-out" for running. It was a joke. They knew it. And I knew it.
I hated the job. I didn't feel like I was helping the kids, which was why I originally applied for the position. And what little tolerance I had for children before had been completely wiped away just one week in. They were pernicious little brats and no matter how my many times my friends kept telling me, "But the good ones, they make up for all the bad ones," it didn't matter. The "good" kids didn't make up for anything. I was trying to connect with the kids, I would put myself in their place, on their level, do whatever it took for them to at least respect me, but it was impossible. To them, I was just that awful girl that kept telling them that they couldn't throw their toy cars across the room or have more than one pool stick at a pool table.
I tried talking to my boss about my problems with the kids, about how I wanted to be more than a police officer to them, but he just kept saying things like, "Just give it more time, they like you, you just don't realize it yet" or "This is just how they are. They're kids."
One time I even said, "I don't think this one particular group of teens respect me at all. I leave them alone and they watch me, pointing and laughing. I try to talk to them, encourage them to do something besides sit around texting on their phones, but they just tell me I'm dumb and I should go away."
I was expecting him to be at least slightly concerned about this, but he simply laughed and said, "They're teens. They don't respect anyone."
But did it really have to be this way? I wasn't so sure. But nobody really seemed too concerned about.
I sighed to myself... so this is how it was going to be then? Perfect...
Friday, October 19, 2012
How I Met His Mother
Finally, weeks after our last encounter, my lovely library patron returns. And thus The Library Saga continues...
It had been so long since the last time I saw him that I nearly thought that I wouldn't again. As if it was by chance I was working the few times he ventured to visit. I almost didn't realize it was him when he walked in. I wasn't expecting to see him, so my eyes drifted right over his face as he walked by the counter. Although, it didn't help that he wasn't alone this time...
That's right. My lovely library gentleman had another woman with him. When I did realize it was him that had passed by, I had to do a triple take. The second take to verify that it was in fact him. The third take to gasp in horror to see another woman following him around. Did our relationship mean nothing to him?! I mean, I know we had only known each other a short time, but come on! I thought we had a connection. He had complimented me on my efficiency, hadn't he? How could he possibly be with another woman after that comment? I had no idea. But I did know that I wanted to see this woman's face. And I wanted her to have a hideous scar covering half of it just to make myself feel better. Damn this new woman. Damn her to hell for stealing my future husband away from me.
As I watched them walk past, I noticed they were headed toward the dvd section. So, in order to investigate the situation properly, I gathered myself together and mustered up my best Poirot... or perhaps Miss Marple, I sort of fancied that role-play better. (I'd take meddling old spinster woman over the plump private detective with a sensitive stomach any day.) Nevertheless, discretion was key. I didn't want him to catch me in the act of spying on him as to further jeopardize our future marriage.
I ran to the back room and picked up a small stack of dvds needing shelved. Pretending to be importantly busy, I walked out into the stacks to put them in their rightful places. As not to make myself obvious, I positioned myself in the aisle next to the one where my lovely stood next to his... new friend. I began to absentmindedly put the dvds on the shelves as I strained my ears to hear their voices...
"Maybe they don't have it," he said as I heard him run his fingers along the dvd titles.
"Or maybe it's just not in. I'll go check at the front desk."
Shit. She was going to the front desk. Where I was supposed to be. Where I had just been sixty seconds ago. Ugh, if only I had stayed there... I had to get back. I had to see this woman.
Doing my best not to run from the stacks, I walked very determinedly towards the back office. As I entered and sat the unshelved dvds back in their place, I noticed there was a small line forming at the desk. The Woman was at the end. I recognized her by her coat. No longer feeling rushed, I walked up to the front desk and realized the this woman was... well... a woman. A middle-aged woman. Either my husband was a bit of a pervert and liked older women, or she could only be...
"Hello, I can see the next person here. How may I help you today?"
"Why yes, my son and I are looking for a dvd. Do you have the Shawhank Redemption?"
His mother! He brought his mother with him to the library! Huzzah! He wasn't seeing seeing an older woman, and more importantly, he wasn't seeing anyone at all. Oh, what a relief! Our marriage was still bright in the future; there was nothing to worry about. (I was going to ignore the fact that he brought his mother to the library. Maybe she was just visiting and they wanted to watch something... it wasn't like he still lived at home... I hoped... Anyway...)
His mother? Oh, God, I was meeting his mother. I felt slightly nervous as I searched the collection database, looking for the requested movie, but I kept a calm demeanor. The Shawshank Redemption, unfortunately, was currently unavailable (go figure), but my future mother-in-law was very sweet about it and said they'd just have to find another one.
So there it was. With every encounter our relationship just keeps growing. Now I've met his mother... maybe next I'll meet his father. Who knows? But I like where this is going...
It had been so long since the last time I saw him that I nearly thought that I wouldn't again. As if it was by chance I was working the few times he ventured to visit. I almost didn't realize it was him when he walked in. I wasn't expecting to see him, so my eyes drifted right over his face as he walked by the counter. Although, it didn't help that he wasn't alone this time...
That's right. My lovely library gentleman had another woman with him. When I did realize it was him that had passed by, I had to do a triple take. The second take to verify that it was in fact him. The third take to gasp in horror to see another woman following him around. Did our relationship mean nothing to him?! I mean, I know we had only known each other a short time, but come on! I thought we had a connection. He had complimented me on my efficiency, hadn't he? How could he possibly be with another woman after that comment? I had no idea. But I did know that I wanted to see this woman's face. And I wanted her to have a hideous scar covering half of it just to make myself feel better. Damn this new woman. Damn her to hell for stealing my future husband away from me.
As I watched them walk past, I noticed they were headed toward the dvd section. So, in order to investigate the situation properly, I gathered myself together and mustered up my best Poirot... or perhaps Miss Marple, I sort of fancied that role-play better. (I'd take meddling old spinster woman over the plump private detective with a sensitive stomach any day.) Nevertheless, discretion was key. I didn't want him to catch me in the act of spying on him as to further jeopardize our future marriage.
I ran to the back room and picked up a small stack of dvds needing shelved. Pretending to be importantly busy, I walked out into the stacks to put them in their rightful places. As not to make myself obvious, I positioned myself in the aisle next to the one where my lovely stood next to his... new friend. I began to absentmindedly put the dvds on the shelves as I strained my ears to hear their voices...
"Maybe they don't have it," he said as I heard him run his fingers along the dvd titles.
"Or maybe it's just not in. I'll go check at the front desk."
Shit. She was going to the front desk. Where I was supposed to be. Where I had just been sixty seconds ago. Ugh, if only I had stayed there... I had to get back. I had to see this woman.
Doing my best not to run from the stacks, I walked very determinedly towards the back office. As I entered and sat the unshelved dvds back in their place, I noticed there was a small line forming at the desk. The Woman was at the end. I recognized her by her coat. No longer feeling rushed, I walked up to the front desk and realized the this woman was... well... a woman. A middle-aged woman. Either my husband was a bit of a pervert and liked older women, or she could only be...
"Hello, I can see the next person here. How may I help you today?"
"Why yes, my son and I are looking for a dvd. Do you have the Shawhank Redemption?"
His mother! He brought his mother with him to the library! Huzzah! He wasn't seeing seeing an older woman, and more importantly, he wasn't seeing anyone at all. Oh, what a relief! Our marriage was still bright in the future; there was nothing to worry about. (I was going to ignore the fact that he brought his mother to the library. Maybe she was just visiting and they wanted to watch something... it wasn't like he still lived at home... I hoped... Anyway...)
His mother? Oh, God, I was meeting his mother. I felt slightly nervous as I searched the collection database, looking for the requested movie, but I kept a calm demeanor. The Shawshank Redemption, unfortunately, was currently unavailable (go figure), but my future mother-in-law was very sweet about it and said they'd just have to find another one.
So there it was. With every encounter our relationship just keeps growing. Now I've met his mother... maybe next I'll meet his father. Who knows? But I like where this is going...
Friday, October 12, 2012
How I Met Anne Boleyn and Bumped into Jean Luc Picard
"When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford." -- Samuel Johnson (English biographer and writer, 1709-1784)
I am currently in the middle of writing an entry about my second job and the shenanigans that occur on a daily basis there, but because I really need something positive in my life right now, I am going to revisit some of my adventures in London from earlier this year.
Those of you who know me well know how much I love England and British culture. Those of you who don't know me well, be warned, I'm slightly obsessed.
Earlier this year in March an opportunity presented itself that was impossible to pass up. A class called Contemporary British Theatre was offered for the first time through my university's theatre department, and because I have had a Union Jack flying in my room since the age of 10, I jumped at this chance to finally travel across the pond.
The deal was, for $3,200 we'd get a two-way plane ticket to London with accommodations in the city for two weeks, have class in the morning, visit landmarks and museums in the afternoon, and see shows in the evening. Plus there was four days set aside for our own adventures in the city (or all of Europe if you were feeling especially adventurous).
<-----I wrote a little more than I intended in this post, so if you want to skip straight to the good part, scroll down until it says "Start Here."----->
Now I could spend two weeks writing about all the unbelievable things I did and the incredible places I visited because there was never, ever a dull moment, but to spare my wrists from developing carpal tunnel, and your eyes computer exhaustion, I'll just stick to one of my more memorable and quirky memories.
It was the second Thursday of the trip, the last day with the usual class/excursion/show schedule, and I knew that I wanted to see a show outside of our itinerary because there was so much great theatre that we weren't going to be seeing. A few other people had the same idea as me. Some wanted to see All New People which was written by and starring Zach Braff of Scrubs fame. Others were thinking of perhaps seeing She Stoops to Conquer which was practically the only show at the National Theatre we hadn't seen yet, and it was supposed to be hilarious and have this amazing, elaborate set. As I was frantically trying to decide what show I should stop by the Half-Price Ticket Booth for, I caught sight of a poster for After Miss Julie as we were leaving the Young Vic after our Thursday afternoon matinee of Bingo, starring Patrick Stewart. (Yes, I am going to keep name-dropping. So get used to it.) When I saw this poster for After Miss Julie, my jaw dropped all the way down to the cobblestone road, because staring at me with her feline-like, gorgeous eyes was Natalie Dormer.
If any of you have ever watched the tv show The Tudors you know that Natalie played the role of King Henry VIII's infamous second wife, Anne Boleyn. I was a huge fan of The Tudors when it was on tv, I've watched every episode, and Anne Boleyn was undoubtedly my favorite character. She was intelligent, smart, and sexy -- not to mention the fact that she convinced a King to turn an entire country upside-down in order to divorce his first wife in a time when divorce was unheard of! Her influence and cunning were truly unparalleled and I loved it.
So it was decided: After Miss Julie it would be! When I got back to the dormitory that evening, I got onto The Young Vic's website to see how much a ticket would cost me when I realized that the show had just opened for previews that very night. My heart sunk a little as my eyes read the production dates... how could I possibly snag a ticket to a show that had just started previews on the morning of it's second performance? The task seemed impossible, but I decided to accept the challenge nevertheless. I had to see Natalie. Just the thought of getting to see someone I admired so much performe live on stage inspired within me superhero-like determination.
The next morning, my alarm woke me up at 7am. I showered in the tiny, cramped shower that my roommate Dani and I shared together, got dressed, grabbed my scarf (because you didn't not wear a scarf in London), and left the IES Residence Hall in Chelsea for the nearest Tube station. The theatre box office didn't open until 10am, but I wasn't taking any chances in case there was a line of other crazed Natalie Dormer fans waiting outside in the cool, misty London morning for the opportunity to get tickets as well. I got off at Waterloo station around 9am and walked the four blocks to the theatre. To my surprise, and my delight, there wasn't a line outside. (Huzzah!) After scanning the area for possible ticket-buyers in disguise, I decided it was safe to enjoy a cup of coffee at Caffè Nero across the street. I hung around the shop for the next fifty minutes, watching anxiously as people walked past the box office across the street. If anyone even tired to form a line, I was prepared to run across that street and beat them with anything within arm's reach. I was like a wildcat stalking it's prey. I needed to see Natalie! And there was nothing that I was going to get in my way.
Finally, around 9:55 a woman came and unlocked the lobby. Like a moth to a flame, I was pulled to it's door without question of consequence. As I walked into the building, I began to feel very nervous. What if there were no more tickets?! I could hardly open my mouth when the woman at the desk said good morning to me. I looked at her in horror for a few seconds before I found my words. I then explained to her that I was hoping there might still be tickets left for that evening's performance of After Miss Julie and how I would like to purchase one if there was any left.
"This evening?" She asked me, looking doubtful at her computer screen.
"Yes," I replied swallowing the lump in my throat. "This evening."
Her eyes looked up and down the screen. Silence. My palms began to sweat.
"Oh, it looks like you're in luck, we have just three left."
If I could have jumped on her desk and done a backflip off of it I would have, that's how ecstatic I was in that moment. Sold!
"I just take one, please," I replied coolly, trying to down play my overenthusiastic excitement.
The best part wasn't even that I'd managed to snag one of three remaining tickets, but that the price of that ticket was only £10 because I bought it day of the performance. I walked out of that box office feeling like a thief. In my mind I imagined myself twirling the corner of my imaginary moustache, laughing menacingly, and calling myself the God of Mischief à la Tom Hiddleston. (For a good laugh, check out this video:
http://vimeo.com/41505642)
<-----Start Here----->
I arrived at the theatre again that evening, picked up my ticket, and learned something even more thrilling about my little £10 snag: it was general seating. This, in layman's terms, means that you can sit where ever you like; first come, first serve. So, where do I sit? Front and center, of course! The space was a studio theatre, and I chose a comfy spot in the second row, watched as one of the actress made breakfast on stage as a pre-show performance while people filed into the theatre.
After the show began, and Natalie walked on stage I got chills. She was even more brilliant in person and so, so talented. I loved her.
When the show was over I was sure of only two things:
1) That After Miss Julie was undoubtedly my favorite show I'd seen in London.
2) That I needed to meet Natalie Dormer.
One of the great and awful things about The Young Vic is that there is only one exit: the front entrance. Which means that everyone, no matter who you are, celebrity or casual theatre-goer, has to exit through those doors. So as I left the building, I waited outside for Natalie to come out. Not wanting to appear like an obsessed fangirl or make it obvious that I was alone in big 'ol London Town, I pulled out my cell phone (with no service because I was on another continent after all) and had an imaginary conversation with my friend on the other end. Yep, that actually happened.
After 30 minutes of waiting, I was almost to the point where I thought she might never come out, or I had missed her in a crowd. People were constantly entering and exiting the building because there was a bar/restaurant inside (like many other theatres in London). I walked closer to the doors, continuing my imaginary conversation -- "Yes, I was thinking about taking the 11:05 train back to Sloane Square. Does that work for you?" -- and as I peered into them, a group of people exited out of them. In order to avoid them running into me, I took a step back only to have someone step into my path and bump into me.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said a somewhat familiar male's voice as he put his hand on my shoulder. "My apologies."
When I turned around to see who it was, I was face to face with Patrick Stewart. Like the Patrick Stewart. Captain Jean Luc Picard, Patrick Stewart! The one I'd watched just a day before perform on stage in Bingo from an auditorium away, but here he was, touching my shoulder! It was so surreal. I couldn't believe it. I mumbled that it wasn't a problem, he smiled at me, and walked away down the street like it was no big deal. Away he went in his brown, corduroy blazer and flat cap. I almost fell over in shock.
As I was trying to recover from this unusual, extraordinary experience I took a step towards the outer wall to lean against it, but just as I did, out walked Natalie with her two co-stars. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest I go so nervous. She walked past me and I almost was too nervous to say anything, then before I could think the word "Natalie" escaped my lips. She turned around and looked at me.
"I was just wondering... could I possibly have your autograph?"
What happened next still makes me get excited just to talk about. She said yes, of course, because she is a wonderfully sweet woman. Then she asked me where I was from and listened as I told her the story about the Contemporary Theatre class and how we'd seen all these shows. She asked me questions about my experiences in London and if I'd felt like I learned anything from all the plays I'd seen. I told her that I felt like I really had learned a lot and that I was very delighted to met her. She asked what my name was and told me that she heard there was a good theatre base in Chicago, which I confirmed, and she said she was very delighted that I enjoyed the show.
After our conversation, she signed my program with a thank you message, and walked down the street with the other two cast members... in the same direction that I was headed. To avoid looking like a stalker and following them down the road, I hung back by the theatre and waited for them to be out of eyesight. After a minute or two, I left as well, feeling very satisfied with my last free day in London.
I am currently in the middle of writing an entry about my second job and the shenanigans that occur on a daily basis there, but because I really need something positive in my life right now, I am going to revisit some of my adventures in London from earlier this year.
Those of you who know me well know how much I love England and British culture. Those of you who don't know me well, be warned, I'm slightly obsessed.
Earlier this year in March an opportunity presented itself that was impossible to pass up. A class called Contemporary British Theatre was offered for the first time through my university's theatre department, and because I have had a Union Jack flying in my room since the age of 10, I jumped at this chance to finally travel across the pond.
The deal was, for $3,200 we'd get a two-way plane ticket to London with accommodations in the city for two weeks, have class in the morning, visit landmarks and museums in the afternoon, and see shows in the evening. Plus there was four days set aside for our own adventures in the city (or all of Europe if you were feeling especially adventurous).
<-----I wrote a little more than I intended in this post, so if you want to skip straight to the good part, scroll down until it says "Start Here."----->
Now I could spend two weeks writing about all the unbelievable things I did and the incredible places I visited because there was never, ever a dull moment, but to spare my wrists from developing carpal tunnel, and your eyes computer exhaustion, I'll just stick to one of my more memorable and quirky memories.
It was the second Thursday of the trip, the last day with the usual class/excursion/show schedule, and I knew that I wanted to see a show outside of our itinerary because there was so much great theatre that we weren't going to be seeing. A few other people had the same idea as me. Some wanted to see All New People which was written by and starring Zach Braff of Scrubs fame. Others were thinking of perhaps seeing She Stoops to Conquer which was practically the only show at the National Theatre we hadn't seen yet, and it was supposed to be hilarious and have this amazing, elaborate set. As I was frantically trying to decide what show I should stop by the Half-Price Ticket Booth for, I caught sight of a poster for After Miss Julie as we were leaving the Young Vic after our Thursday afternoon matinee of Bingo, starring Patrick Stewart. (Yes, I am going to keep name-dropping. So get used to it.) When I saw this poster for After Miss Julie, my jaw dropped all the way down to the cobblestone road, because staring at me with her feline-like, gorgeous eyes was Natalie Dormer.
If any of you have ever watched the tv show The Tudors you know that Natalie played the role of King Henry VIII's infamous second wife, Anne Boleyn. I was a huge fan of The Tudors when it was on tv, I've watched every episode, and Anne Boleyn was undoubtedly my favorite character. She was intelligent, smart, and sexy -- not to mention the fact that she convinced a King to turn an entire country upside-down in order to divorce his first wife in a time when divorce was unheard of! Her influence and cunning were truly unparalleled and I loved it.
So it was decided: After Miss Julie it would be! When I got back to the dormitory that evening, I got onto The Young Vic's website to see how much a ticket would cost me when I realized that the show had just opened for previews that very night. My heart sunk a little as my eyes read the production dates... how could I possibly snag a ticket to a show that had just started previews on the morning of it's second performance? The task seemed impossible, but I decided to accept the challenge nevertheless. I had to see Natalie. Just the thought of getting to see someone I admired so much performe live on stage inspired within me superhero-like determination.
The next morning, my alarm woke me up at 7am. I showered in the tiny, cramped shower that my roommate Dani and I shared together, got dressed, grabbed my scarf (because you didn't not wear a scarf in London), and left the IES Residence Hall in Chelsea for the nearest Tube station. The theatre box office didn't open until 10am, but I wasn't taking any chances in case there was a line of other crazed Natalie Dormer fans waiting outside in the cool, misty London morning for the opportunity to get tickets as well. I got off at Waterloo station around 9am and walked the four blocks to the theatre. To my surprise, and my delight, there wasn't a line outside. (Huzzah!) After scanning the area for possible ticket-buyers in disguise, I decided it was safe to enjoy a cup of coffee at Caffè Nero across the street. I hung around the shop for the next fifty minutes, watching anxiously as people walked past the box office across the street. If anyone even tired to form a line, I was prepared to run across that street and beat them with anything within arm's reach. I was like a wildcat stalking it's prey. I needed to see Natalie! And there was nothing that I was going to get in my way.
Finally, around 9:55 a woman came and unlocked the lobby. Like a moth to a flame, I was pulled to it's door without question of consequence. As I walked into the building, I began to feel very nervous. What if there were no more tickets?! I could hardly open my mouth when the woman at the desk said good morning to me. I looked at her in horror for a few seconds before I found my words. I then explained to her that I was hoping there might still be tickets left for that evening's performance of After Miss Julie and how I would like to purchase one if there was any left.
"This evening?" She asked me, looking doubtful at her computer screen.
"Yes," I replied swallowing the lump in my throat. "This evening."
Her eyes looked up and down the screen. Silence. My palms began to sweat.
"Oh, it looks like you're in luck, we have just three left."
If I could have jumped on her desk and done a backflip off of it I would have, that's how ecstatic I was in that moment. Sold!
"I just take one, please," I replied coolly, trying to down play my overenthusiastic excitement.
The best part wasn't even that I'd managed to snag one of three remaining tickets, but that the price of that ticket was only £10 because I bought it day of the performance. I walked out of that box office feeling like a thief. In my mind I imagined myself twirling the corner of my imaginary moustache, laughing menacingly, and calling myself the God of Mischief à la Tom Hiddleston. (For a good laugh, check out this video:
http://vimeo.com/41505642)
<-----Start Here----->
I arrived at the theatre again that evening, picked up my ticket, and learned something even more thrilling about my little £10 snag: it was general seating. This, in layman's terms, means that you can sit where ever you like; first come, first serve. So, where do I sit? Front and center, of course! The space was a studio theatre, and I chose a comfy spot in the second row, watched as one of the actress made breakfast on stage as a pre-show performance while people filed into the theatre.
After the show began, and Natalie walked on stage I got chills. She was even more brilliant in person and so, so talented. I loved her.
When the show was over I was sure of only two things:
1) That After Miss Julie was undoubtedly my favorite show I'd seen in London.
2) That I needed to meet Natalie Dormer.
One of the great and awful things about The Young Vic is that there is only one exit: the front entrance. Which means that everyone, no matter who you are, celebrity or casual theatre-goer, has to exit through those doors. So as I left the building, I waited outside for Natalie to come out. Not wanting to appear like an obsessed fangirl or make it obvious that I was alone in big 'ol London Town, I pulled out my cell phone (with no service because I was on another continent after all) and had an imaginary conversation with my friend on the other end. Yep, that actually happened.
After 30 minutes of waiting, I was almost to the point where I thought she might never come out, or I had missed her in a crowd. People were constantly entering and exiting the building because there was a bar/restaurant inside (like many other theatres in London). I walked closer to the doors, continuing my imaginary conversation -- "Yes, I was thinking about taking the 11:05 train back to Sloane Square. Does that work for you?" -- and as I peered into them, a group of people exited out of them. In order to avoid them running into me, I took a step back only to have someone step into my path and bump into me.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said a somewhat familiar male's voice as he put his hand on my shoulder. "My apologies."
When I turned around to see who it was, I was face to face with Patrick Stewart. Like the Patrick Stewart. Captain Jean Luc Picard, Patrick Stewart! The one I'd watched just a day before perform on stage in Bingo from an auditorium away, but here he was, touching my shoulder! It was so surreal. I couldn't believe it. I mumbled that it wasn't a problem, he smiled at me, and walked away down the street like it was no big deal. Away he went in his brown, corduroy blazer and flat cap. I almost fell over in shock.
As I was trying to recover from this unusual, extraordinary experience I took a step towards the outer wall to lean against it, but just as I did, out walked Natalie with her two co-stars. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest I go so nervous. She walked past me and I almost was too nervous to say anything, then before I could think the word "Natalie" escaped my lips. She turned around and looked at me.
"I was just wondering... could I possibly have your autograph?"
What happened next still makes me get excited just to talk about. She said yes, of course, because she is a wonderfully sweet woman. Then she asked me where I was from and listened as I told her the story about the Contemporary Theatre class and how we'd seen all these shows. She asked me questions about my experiences in London and if I'd felt like I learned anything from all the plays I'd seen. I told her that I felt like I really had learned a lot and that I was very delighted to met her. She asked what my name was and told me that she heard there was a good theatre base in Chicago, which I confirmed, and she said she was very delighted that I enjoyed the show.
After our conversation, she signed my program with a thank you message, and walked down the street with the other two cast members... in the same direction that I was headed. To avoid looking like a stalker and following them down the road, I hung back by the theatre and waited for them to be out of eyesight. After a minute or two, I left as well, feeling very satisfied with my last free day in London.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
So This Is Love?
The following is an actual conversation that took place between me and two good friends over a dinner of butternut squash soup and roasted parmesan asparagus...
Friend 1: This soup is really good. I can't believe I've never had this before.
Me: I like to imagine I'm having a torrid love affair with this patron who occasionally comes to the library...
Friend 2: *Laughs Hysterically*
Friend 1: *Fighting Back Tears* You know, most people would just say, "There's this guy that sometimes comes into the library. I think he's cute." You always manage to take things to a whole new level.
While Friend Number One is in fact right that I somehow always manage to word vomit these hyperbolic sentences that seem normal to me but amusing to everyone else, I just can't bypass the fact that what I said is absolutely the truth. I do have these wild imaginings about this blonde-haired beauty that comes into the library. He isn't normally the type of guy I'd be physically attracted to right away, but he's managed to catch my eye and I'm just dreaming of the day he's going to ride in on his white horse and whisk me away into the sunset! *Cue fanfare!*
Okay, okay. That's a bit far fetched even for me. I'm not looking for a knight in shinning armor. But I am looking for Good-humored, Intellectual, and Spontaneous. And naturally I can tell he is all of these things just by looking at him because, of course, my perception skills are unparalleled. In fact, I'm so sure this is all going to work out in the end, I'm going to start affectionately calling our interactions and exchanges The Library Saga because it needs a catchy title. (If you can't tell I'm being slightly histrionic and a bit facetious right now, you're reading the wrong blog.)
But to be a little more practical, I do have to say that this guy, whose name I do not know (why I didn't note it when I was checking out books to him I do not understand), really seems to be genuinely down-to-earth and interesting. I think I've seen him a total of three times now, each encounter proving to be more amusing than the last...
The first time I saw him he simply walked by and flashed me a smile. The second time I saw him he came to me at the counter to check out his books and dvds, gave rather insightful remarks on a Woody Allen film, and made comments on my efficiency. That's right ladies, he commented on my efficiency. Now, if that isn't the beginnings of true love, I don't know what is. The third and final time I saw him was probably the most romantic by far. I was behind the circulation counter pulling paperback books for the Paperback Exchange program and he came to check out some items. One of my fellow co-workers was at the counter waiting on people, so I let her process his books while I stealthily watched from a number of yards away. Just as he was getting ready to leave I accidentally caught his gaze and averted my eyes. When I plucked up enough courage to look up again, he was looking at me, only to avert his eyes when he realized I was looking back at him. It was like a moment straight right out of a Audrey Hepburn movie. Oh, happy day! I predict a wedding in my near future.
So while I have not seen this lovely, nameless man since Saturday, I fully envision The Library Sage to continue to flourish and will keep you all updated as new stories arise.
Friend 1: This soup is really good. I can't believe I've never had this before.
Me: I like to imagine I'm having a torrid love affair with this patron who occasionally comes to the library...
Friend 2: *Laughs Hysterically*
Friend 1: *Fighting Back Tears* You know, most people would just say, "There's this guy that sometimes comes into the library. I think he's cute." You always manage to take things to a whole new level.
While Friend Number One is in fact right that I somehow always manage to word vomit these hyperbolic sentences that seem normal to me but amusing to everyone else, I just can't bypass the fact that what I said is absolutely the truth. I do have these wild imaginings about this blonde-haired beauty that comes into the library. He isn't normally the type of guy I'd be physically attracted to right away, but he's managed to catch my eye and I'm just dreaming of the day he's going to ride in on his white horse and whisk me away into the sunset! *Cue fanfare!*
Okay, okay. That's a bit far fetched even for me. I'm not looking for a knight in shinning armor. But I am looking for Good-humored, Intellectual, and Spontaneous. And naturally I can tell he is all of these things just by looking at him because, of course, my perception skills are unparalleled. In fact, I'm so sure this is all going to work out in the end, I'm going to start affectionately calling our interactions and exchanges The Library Saga because it needs a catchy title. (If you can't tell I'm being slightly histrionic and a bit facetious right now, you're reading the wrong blog.)
But to be a little more practical, I do have to say that this guy, whose name I do not know (why I didn't note it when I was checking out books to him I do not understand), really seems to be genuinely down-to-earth and interesting. I think I've seen him a total of three times now, each encounter proving to be more amusing than the last...
The first time I saw him he simply walked by and flashed me a smile. The second time I saw him he came to me at the counter to check out his books and dvds, gave rather insightful remarks on a Woody Allen film, and made comments on my efficiency. That's right ladies, he commented on my efficiency. Now, if that isn't the beginnings of true love, I don't know what is. The third and final time I saw him was probably the most romantic by far. I was behind the circulation counter pulling paperback books for the Paperback Exchange program and he came to check out some items. One of my fellow co-workers was at the counter waiting on people, so I let her process his books while I stealthily watched from a number of yards away. Just as he was getting ready to leave I accidentally caught his gaze and averted my eyes. When I plucked up enough courage to look up again, he was looking at me, only to avert his eyes when he realized I was looking back at him. It was like a moment straight right out of a Audrey Hepburn movie. Oh, happy day! I predict a wedding in my near future.
So while I have not seen this lovely, nameless man since Saturday, I fully envision The Library Sage to continue to flourish and will keep you all updated as new stories arise.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
The Jackson to My Pollock
"All you need in life is truth and beauty and you can find both at the Public Library." -- Studs Terkel
I spend 20 hours a week working at the local library. A job which I love and really genuinely enjoy going to every day. I work in the circulation department as a circulation clerk which, in my opinion, is the single greatest position a library has to offer. I could have gotten a degree and became an actual librarian, but why do that when everyone who walks into a library automatically assumes you're one anyway? And, believe me, the title "librarian" is a lot more glamorous than the actual job itself. As a librarian you're usually cooped up in an office, researching subjects in your specialized field, helping patrons find information on specific topics, developing and improving library databases, and so forth, that sort of thing. You might go home at the end of the day feeling pretty damn satisfied with the fact that you helped that old guy with the crusty lips and ratty suspenders find two rare books on indigenous plant species, but you're also going home with a sore throat from overexposure to the dusty old books from the musty reserve basement where you had to fish out those two books. Or a headache from the florescence of your computer screen. You choose.
So point being, I don't need that fancy library science degree to do my job and I still reap all the benefits it has offers. All the credit that you, with your illustrious degree, deserve for ordering that library book that we didn't have, the one that everybody kept asking about, goes to me despite the fact that I say, "Oh, I had nothing to do with it." "Well, of course you did," they all reply. "You're a librarian!" Well, actually no, but there's no point in arguing because they probably won't get it anyway... Believe me, I've tried.
Oh, and remember that time you worked really hard putting that display together about challenged and banned books? The one you spent nearly two weeks busting your ass on, trying to find interesting, new, quirky facts that everybody hasn't heard already for a thousand times? Well, I get that credit, too. We "librarians" are just too clever and never disappoint when it comes to providing the public with new information! (Yep. We both know that Cather In the Rye and Of Mice and Men are old news, but nobody ever seems to remember...)
And this is the part where you might argue and say, "But, Megan, you have to interact with the patrons on a daily basis! They can be so irate and rude. How can you possibly say that you're job is better?!"
Well, my friend, this is when I say to you: the customer is not always right. We're not a supermarket or retail store trying to win you over with our sensational customer service and superior item exchange program so that you'll come back again and purchase more of our products. The fact of the matter is that I don't have to deal with your shit. (Now, that isn't to say that we're not friendly and professional, because we absolutely are. The difference is that we don't have to act spineless and bow to your every complaint like they do at Groceries-R-Us.) If you break one of our rules or don't feel like paying your fines, well tough titties Tina because I don't have to let you borrow these books, or, even in some cases, allow you in the building. And sometimes, getting to tell a patron "no" is one of the most stress relieving things I get to do. And that's an honest fact.
Now, of course, most of the time I'm not really concerned with whose job is better than whose, especially when I'm working because actual librarians are great people. I like to imagine that they're the color and we're the lines on a canvas. Two integral parts fused together so perfectly that they're nearly one and the same. You can't have one without the other.
I speculate that together we look something like this:
But, in reality, it's probably something more like this:
I spend 20 hours a week working at the local library. A job which I love and really genuinely enjoy going to every day. I work in the circulation department as a circulation clerk which, in my opinion, is the single greatest position a library has to offer. I could have gotten a degree and became an actual librarian, but why do that when everyone who walks into a library automatically assumes you're one anyway? And, believe me, the title "librarian" is a lot more glamorous than the actual job itself. As a librarian you're usually cooped up in an office, researching subjects in your specialized field, helping patrons find information on specific topics, developing and improving library databases, and so forth, that sort of thing. You might go home at the end of the day feeling pretty damn satisfied with the fact that you helped that old guy with the crusty lips and ratty suspenders find two rare books on indigenous plant species, but you're also going home with a sore throat from overexposure to the dusty old books from the musty reserve basement where you had to fish out those two books. Or a headache from the florescence of your computer screen. You choose.
So point being, I don't need that fancy library science degree to do my job and I still reap all the benefits it has offers. All the credit that you, with your illustrious degree, deserve for ordering that library book that we didn't have, the one that everybody kept asking about, goes to me despite the fact that I say, "Oh, I had nothing to do with it." "Well, of course you did," they all reply. "You're a librarian!" Well, actually no, but there's no point in arguing because they probably won't get it anyway... Believe me, I've tried.
Oh, and remember that time you worked really hard putting that display together about challenged and banned books? The one you spent nearly two weeks busting your ass on, trying to find interesting, new, quirky facts that everybody hasn't heard already for a thousand times? Well, I get that credit, too. We "librarians" are just too clever and never disappoint when it comes to providing the public with new information! (Yep. We both know that Cather In the Rye and Of Mice and Men are old news, but nobody ever seems to remember...)
And this is the part where you might argue and say, "But, Megan, you have to interact with the patrons on a daily basis! They can be so irate and rude. How can you possibly say that you're job is better?!"
Well, my friend, this is when I say to you: the customer is not always right. We're not a supermarket or retail store trying to win you over with our sensational customer service and superior item exchange program so that you'll come back again and purchase more of our products. The fact of the matter is that I don't have to deal with your shit. (Now, that isn't to say that we're not friendly and professional, because we absolutely are. The difference is that we don't have to act spineless and bow to your every complaint like they do at Groceries-R-Us.) If you break one of our rules or don't feel like paying your fines, well tough titties Tina because I don't have to let you borrow these books, or, even in some cases, allow you in the building. And sometimes, getting to tell a patron "no" is one of the most stress relieving things I get to do. And that's an honest fact.
Now, of course, most of the time I'm not really concerned with whose job is better than whose, especially when I'm working because actual librarians are great people. I like to imagine that they're the color and we're the lines on a canvas. Two integral parts fused together so perfectly that they're nearly one and the same. You can't have one without the other.
I speculate that together we look something like this:
But, in reality, it's probably something more like this:
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Confessions of a Part-Time Hipster and Faux Realist
This is the result of the encouragement of a good friend. . .
1) Sometimes when I am watching a movie or tv show and there is a female character that exudes characteristics that I hate about myself or wish I had, I automatically dislike that character. And once I dislike a character, there is no turning back. No matter how much someone may try to convince me otherwise. Also, there is a 100% chance that the true reason I am not in favor of a certain character is ever divulged.
2) I am a book snob. A completely ridiculous, utterly impossible book snob. I have rules about the books I read, and I follow them. Anything British. Anything written before the mid-20th century. Any new fiction that is not over-popularized. If a book starts to develop a fandom before I have read it, there is a good chance I never will.
3) I am very protective of the books I do read. Once I am attached, I become mildly obsessed. It's a problem that often results in unnecessary stress and a sort of post-reading depression.
4) I like people to think that I am pragmatic and resourceful, but really I am hopelessly idealistic and whimsy.
5) I can never understand when people say that they do not like art. That is like saying you've never looked at a painting, photo, drawing, sculpture, etc. and had a thought about it, even if that thought was incomplete or incoherent. While I am an absolute believer that art should make you think, feel, and move you in some way, I am also an absolute believer that it can be for the sake of beauty and pleasure alone. How can someone truly look at the work of. . . Michaelagelo, Titian, or Modigliani. . . and not at least think, "Yes, that is beautiful."
6) The probable reason I've never been on a date with anyone is because I'm outlandishly picky and critical. I sabotage myself, but I can't help thinking that there must be someone out there that holds the same standards that I do. I'm holding out for him.
7) A guy who can dress well is a turn on.
8) A guy who is conceited because he can dress well is a turn off.
9) I'm a closet fashion diva. If I had the money and was diligent enough, I'm convinced I'd have a stunning wardrobe.
10) Sometimes I judge books by their covers... which is why I believe that publishers should just go back to binding them in a solid colored outer shell. That way I won't have this problem.
11) Hyperbole is my best friend. I don't think we've gone a day without spending time with each other.
12) If I could get lost in any fictional world... I would choose the Doctor's without hesitation. While magic, super powers, talking animals, pirates, knights, elves, and other ethereal beings are beyond cool, I have this overwhelming longing to know what is beyond the stars. I have been fascinated with the night sky even before I started watching Doctor Who in high school. It's actually become somewhat of an obsession and sometimes the only place I can ever really find any solace. I just know that somewhere out there in the universe, there is something waiting to be discovered beyond my imagination. And if nothing else, just looking up into the stars and remembering to breathe can really put your life into perspective when you feel like you're losing grip.
13) If I could get lost anywhere in the real world... I would choose England. While one of my greatest ambitions is to see the world and as much of its glory as possible, I know England is where my heart will always belong. English culture has been another obsession of mine. I remember when I was in elementary school I checked out the two books on England from the library so many times that the librarian became concerned about my reading habits. But I didn't care about the other books she suggested I read.
14) Once when I was little I saw a movie (and I don't remember what it was) where a character said that she wanted to learn another language so that she could talk about other people and they wouldn't understand her. I remember thinking what a brilliant idea this was. I now have a minor in French... which may or may not have been an extended reaction to this notion.
15) Every time I try to diet I fail miserably because I love food so much. But then I look at myself and hate what I see. So I try again, but food always gets the best of me. It's a never ending cycle. One day I'm hoping that my vanity prevails.
16) Here is, in no particular order, a list of my top five favorite fictional characters from literature (at the moment):
a) Cassandra Mortmain -- I Capture the Castle
b) Heathcliff -- Wuthering Heights
c) Edmond Dantès -- The Count of Monte Cristo
d) Bridget Jones -- Bridget Jones' Diary
e) Sherlock Holmes -- The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes
18) The only thing I would ever give up acting for is England.
19) I'm too frivolous with my money and can't keep to a budget even if that budget needs to be adhered to.
20) I love spending time alone, but I hate feeling alone.
21) I do not, and probably never will, believe that I am worth it.
21) I do not, and probably never will, believe that I am worth it.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Memorization Troubles
If you've stumbled across this blog, there is one important thing you need to know about me: I am an actress. At the moment, I'm living in Northwest Indiana, trying to save up enough money to actually move to Chicago and see if I can take my career anywhere.
Currently I'm in a production of Snow White at a local theatre which is quite reputable in the area. Exciting as this well may be, I seem to be having memorization issues. Too many of my lines are similar, making it difficult to remember at which points certain variations of lines are meant to be said.
To show you what I mean, here are a few examples:
In truth, my queen, there are none so lovely as you in all the land. There are none to compare with your beauty.
In truth, my queen, there is no one in the entire world as lovely as you.
In truth, my queen, you are still possessed of a face as fair as the morning sky.
Don't get me wrong, I'm loving my time as the Mirror and she's a fabulous, sassy character to play, but she can get kind of redundant. Either she's saying the same thing over and over again or she's reciting some monologue about how the evil Queen is going to poison Snow White and only the Seven Dwarfs can protect her.
I don't seem to recall ever really having this problem before...
May I finish memorizing these lines in time for tonight's first full run-through.
Currently I'm in a production of Snow White at a local theatre which is quite reputable in the area. Exciting as this well may be, I seem to be having memorization issues. Too many of my lines are similar, making it difficult to remember at which points certain variations of lines are meant to be said.
To show you what I mean, here are a few examples:
In truth, my queen, there are none so lovely as you in all the land. There are none to compare with your beauty.
In truth, my queen, there is no one in the entire world as lovely as you.
In truth, my queen, you are still possessed of a face as fair as the morning sky.
Don't get me wrong, I'm loving my time as the Mirror and she's a fabulous, sassy character to play, but she can get kind of redundant. Either she's saying the same thing over and over again or she's reciting some monologue about how the evil Queen is going to poison Snow White and only the Seven Dwarfs can protect her.
I don't seem to recall ever really having this problem before...
May I finish memorizing these lines in time for tonight's first full run-through.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
How the Doctor Saved My Sanity
There are some days you wake up and feel like you have the world in the palm of your hand. You're ready and eager to battle any challenge thrown at you.
There are other days when you wake up feeling like everything you've ever done has been a mistake and the pathetic, abysmal life your living now is only a result of the poor choices you've made.
Today was neither of those days.
Today, I woke up in my bed for the 70-something-ish time this summer feeling as if I might just walk away from everything I've ever known if the right opportunity passed me by. I didn't have anything keeping me where I was, besides maybe a signature on a nine-month lease agreement, and suddenly everything felt like it needed to change. Thus I began to wonder...
The following is a list of things I compiled not keeping me where I currently am:
-two mediocre, dead-end, part-time jobs.
-three permanent (and one not-so-permanent) roommates of whom I loathe and despise.
-an apartment next door to the university I just graduated from three months ago.
Sounds really appealing, right? A recent college graduate with a bachelor's degree and all I had to show for it were two $8/hr jobs and a shitty home life. I could have gotten all of those things without going to college and spent about $90,000 less of money I didn't even have.
But then there had to be something good about what I was doing...
The following is a list of things I compiled keeping me where I currently am:
-The aforementioned $90,000 in school debt.
-Two bank accounts with a dazzling grand total of $178.36.
-That damned lease agreement.
After carefully and thoroughly studying the two lists, I made a rather shocking discovery -- neither contained a single positive item. But how did this make sense? There was supposed to be some good in there somewhere. I mean, isn't that why they called it "pros and cons" and not just "cons and cons"? Suddenly my world began to blur and I felt like I was being swallowed up and suffocated by the air around me.
Breathe. I had to remember to breathe.
Two emotionally draining hours of worrying and a silent crying session into my pillow later, a thought popped into my mind which hadn't occurred to me before: maybe the reason I was so unhappy was because I never even gave myself the opportunity to actually enjoy what I was doing, even if it wasn't exactly what I had planned in the grand scheme for my life.
Then it hit me. Stress. I could not remember a time when I didn't feel overwhelmed by some aspect in my life. Four years of college was basically a breeding ground for unhealthy mental behaviors and I'd succumbed to an unendurable hopelessness that haunted me even after I had left the world of academia. I couldn't seem to shake it off. Bills. Debt. Roommates. Family. There it was, the dark shadow of doom, hiding around every corner.
As I was contemplating this theory, I glanced at a piece of art I'd done, hanging on my bedroom wall. On it was a quote that read: "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant."
There it was, hanging above my head all along. The answer to all my problems. I was looking at everything through the wrong lens. I needed to adjust the focus and put away the shades. Leave it to Doctor Who to inspire within me a new attitude.
While keeping the wisdom of the Doctor in mind, I created a new list.
My pile of good things:
-living independently on my own for the first time in my entire life without the help of anyone else.
-having the opportunity to be a part of what a I love most dearly in life, theatre, and doing it with people whom I've genuinely come to enjoy.
-being employed at two different businesses while some people have no jobs at all.
-forming even stronger relationships with some close friends and being able to share in the happiness of one of my best friends as she begins to plan her wedding.
-being single and having no one to answer to or tie me down.
While I still find it difficult to define many of the events, obstacles, and situations in my life as positive, I've spent most of the day working on my perception of the things I don't necessarily find appealing. I really believe that with a little work I can start to change my mindset and learn to alleviate some of this unwanted stress in my life. I can't change everything, of course, there will always be bills to pay and lessons to learn -- that pile of bad things -- but at the very least I can open myself up the things that I have good in life and allow myself to embrace their potential.
There are other days when you wake up feeling like everything you've ever done has been a mistake and the pathetic, abysmal life your living now is only a result of the poor choices you've made.
Today was neither of those days.
Today, I woke up in my bed for the 70-something-ish time this summer feeling as if I might just walk away from everything I've ever known if the right opportunity passed me by. I didn't have anything keeping me where I was, besides maybe a signature on a nine-month lease agreement, and suddenly everything felt like it needed to change. Thus I began to wonder...
The following is a list of things I compiled not keeping me where I currently am:
-two mediocre, dead-end, part-time jobs.
-three permanent (and one not-so-permanent) roommates of whom I loathe and despise.
-an apartment next door to the university I just graduated from three months ago.
Sounds really appealing, right? A recent college graduate with a bachelor's degree and all I had to show for it were two $8/hr jobs and a shitty home life. I could have gotten all of those things without going to college and spent about $90,000 less of money I didn't even have.
But then there had to be something good about what I was doing...
The following is a list of things I compiled keeping me where I currently am:
-The aforementioned $90,000 in school debt.
-Two bank accounts with a dazzling grand total of $178.36.
-That damned lease agreement.
After carefully and thoroughly studying the two lists, I made a rather shocking discovery -- neither contained a single positive item. But how did this make sense? There was supposed to be some good in there somewhere. I mean, isn't that why they called it "pros and cons" and not just "cons and cons"? Suddenly my world began to blur and I felt like I was being swallowed up and suffocated by the air around me.
Breathe. I had to remember to breathe.
Two emotionally draining hours of worrying and a silent crying session into my pillow later, a thought popped into my mind which hadn't occurred to me before: maybe the reason I was so unhappy was because I never even gave myself the opportunity to actually enjoy what I was doing, even if it wasn't exactly what I had planned in the grand scheme for my life.
Then it hit me. Stress. I could not remember a time when I didn't feel overwhelmed by some aspect in my life. Four years of college was basically a breeding ground for unhealthy mental behaviors and I'd succumbed to an unendurable hopelessness that haunted me even after I had left the world of academia. I couldn't seem to shake it off. Bills. Debt. Roommates. Family. There it was, the dark shadow of doom, hiding around every corner.
As I was contemplating this theory, I glanced at a piece of art I'd done, hanging on my bedroom wall. On it was a quote that read: "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant."
There it was, hanging above my head all along. The answer to all my problems. I was looking at everything through the wrong lens. I needed to adjust the focus and put away the shades. Leave it to Doctor Who to inspire within me a new attitude.
While keeping the wisdom of the Doctor in mind, I created a new list.
My pile of good things:
-living independently on my own for the first time in my entire life without the help of anyone else.
-having the opportunity to be a part of what a I love most dearly in life, theatre, and doing it with people whom I've genuinely come to enjoy.
-being employed at two different businesses while some people have no jobs at all.
-forming even stronger relationships with some close friends and being able to share in the happiness of one of my best friends as she begins to plan her wedding.
-being single and having no one to answer to or tie me down.
While I still find it difficult to define many of the events, obstacles, and situations in my life as positive, I've spent most of the day working on my perception of the things I don't necessarily find appealing. I really believe that with a little work I can start to change my mindset and learn to alleviate some of this unwanted stress in my life. I can't change everything, of course, there will always be bills to pay and lessons to learn -- that pile of bad things -- but at the very least I can open myself up the things that I have good in life and allow myself to embrace their potential.
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