post #4

when i said my goodmorning, everyone else wondered why i was even around – and then realized the schedule had been jambled too much, but yes, i was working.

i used my glasses with older prescription.  bad idea.  i feel blind.

yesterday i went to another branch and picked up a book by Ian McEwan, in curiosity if it would entice me to look deeper into atonement, perhaps read the book or see the movie.  after two pages, i changed my mind and returned the book immediately.  i am saddened it is even on my record.

i see its potential for pure prose-like beauty, but i retrieve myself from curiosity.  perhaps i even read the review wrong (if i remember where i read it, you would see why).  shamefully, i will admit: it was “On Chesil Beach.”  the novella captures the story of two virgins on their honeymoon, apprehensive of “what happens” then.  truly, it has its poetic potential, but i honestly have no personal interest in finding out how they “discover” or not discover each other. i’m not saying i recommend it or not, i’m sure with its recognition, it has its audience.  i, apparently, am not part of that audience.

what had caught my attention, however, is Geraldine Brooks’ People of the Book.  reviews remind me of some “Da Vinci Code” or “National Treasure”-esque feel, although i could be way off track, and am simply enticed by the ideas of the lifetime of objects and the art history in between.  the library does not own any copies, and i should put myself on the waiting list before it shoots up to 200.

as for A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini (author of novel-turned-movie The Kite Runner), the painted picture of middle-eastern family tensions have such timeless themes, it would be worth the read.

as for patronage:

a woman called asking if we had any books on what i unfortunately heard as “Brama Bowls” and found numerous crystal bowls that didn’t seen particularly hard to find, until she began describing them as “they have distinguishable humps on their backs.”  “Ahh,” i realized, “Brahma BULLS.”  “Yes,”she replied, “some women collect Precious Moments, and I collect Brahma Bulls.”  so i set on a yellow-sheeted project of finding sites where she could purchase statues of these unique creatures.  it was an interesting search, i must confess, as she minused any ebay find because she could not figure out its procedures.

another woman, possibly around retirement age, came in at the minute i was supposed to leave (and to my advantage had been on the phone with another patron).  she placed a little teddy bear on our countertop and with excitement, pulled out a disposable camera, and requested my two co-workers to stand in the picture.  “isn’t this lovely?” she confidently states, no disagreement sought, “a teddy bear in the library!  my husband thinks i’m crazy!”  and after strangely asking and memorizing my co-workers’ names, she ventures off into section 688 and seeks out books on teddy bears…

i cried with laughter in my wee spirit.

——

“if you do me this favor, i promise i’ll… uh….. send you some chocolate in the mail.  within the month.”
“well, you really don’t–”
“have you heard of J’s secret stash of chocolate?”
(i pause)
“you know, that drawer that…”
(no response)
“that drawer.  that one that hides all the–”
(kind chuckle)
“ehhh… um….. haaaa… well…… you didn’t hear it from me but… okayseriouslyyouhaaaave to checkitoutcauseitssooooooo FULLLLof goodiesand.um.and.um.and.ummm…. i guess that could be your reward..?”

post #3

(for wednesday)

this morning, i broke my glasses. so i brought out my very last pair of contacts and sighed, as what are the definites of me being able to see again (which, i am speaking in faith i will be cured of this bad eyesight). i need to see an optometrist. desperately.

a woman came in to change her voter registration, since between the time she signed up till then, she had a divorce and needed a name change. she was quite forward about it, because it didn’t matter if i remembered what her adopted name was, and her maiden name – neither did her first name make a difference. but there was a name change, and it had to be recognized, by everyone. even the librarians. every one of us who walked by the desk. it saddened me deeply, to see the effects of divorce, to see the animosity between once-lovers. what is the believable solution, to simply not marry and instead, live together? but it evokes a passion and temptation belonging only to a sanctified union… all this ran through my head as i wondered how to kindly approach the recently divorced woman. and i could not help but listen to her golden adornments jangle on the table, and red manicured fingers tap the countertop.

with not much on my hands, i read about the iranian fashion meant for the bourgeoisie. she excellently combines different imported and printed fabrics while keeping religious and cultural tradition, and flattering women without the westernized flaunt of what is beautiful. i applaud designers like hers.

post #2

have you seen those commercials for those pads that you adhere to the bottom of your foot before you fall asleep – to awaken to find a gross glob of toxins absorbed while you slept?

i thought of that the second i stepped onto the floor to work yesterday. it’s been two weeks since i’ve been working, and what happened to be a quiet new year’s eve turned into havoc once i arrived. before even saying hello to the current staff on the floor, a patron called for my attention. it was break before i was able to sit; the day’s end before i could breathe.

with the chaos in full swing, the only thing i can remember is being yelled at by a superior. “Strange,” you may think, “the irony: yelling? library? …how and why?” the situation is unimportant and trite, but the reactions in themselves were notable – as is the fact that i was with a patron on the phone at the same time. Poor woman had no idea why i suddenly yelled “WHAT?”