It's the moment you've all been waiting for

My yearly top ten picks for books and movies! Since I've already bored you with it once, I think it's time this yearly custom became an annual tradition.

Again, a disclaimer: my picks for books will necessarily be out of the books I've read this year, not just books published this year, since it's not very often that I read brand new books. I finally kept a log of everything I've read in the year, and it turns out that I've only completed a disappointing 30 books, so that's not including 4 books that I started but didn't finish (Bleak House being one of them, which I have spent the whole of December reading and which I'm not even half-way through yet. Damn Dickens.). Out of those 30, 4.5 were re-reads, which I find as I revise this post has gone up from what I had originally counted as 2.5. Darn. I thought I was doing better this year, but apparently I'm not.

As for movies, I didn't get to see a lot of the smaller films that are making the critics' top ten lists, so you'll just have to bear with me. Overall, I felt like this year really blew for movies - only one or two really stand out in my mind as being worthy of watching again or even remembering in any fashion.

So the lists.

Best Books I Read in 2006

1. The Runaway by Alice Munro. This is only the second book I've read by Munro, but I think she may be one of my new favorite writers. As with pretty much all her books, this is a collection of short stories, some of which are related and some of which are not, but they are all excellent.

2. White Teeth by Zadie Smith. To be honest, the thing about this novel that really makes it outstanding in my mind was that fact that Smith was only 21 when she wrote it. This simultaneously awes me and fills me with self-hatred and gut-twisting envy. But I gotta give props where props are due.

3. Gilgamesh by Joan London. For a first novel, the writing was so tight and clean you could eat dinner off it. Also, good pacing and plot - I think I finished the book in a couple of days.

4. Moral Disorder by Margaret Atwood. Everything Atwood writes is compulsively readable, including this little novella which is not large on plot but is very wonderful just the same. Finished it in about a day and a half.

5. Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. Here's the thing: after I read this book I was like, "Eh. OK, it's good, but I don't see what the big deal is." Then I keep remembering all the little stories and details and thinking to myself, "What book was that from? ... Ah yes." And that's basically how I know for myself if a book or movie is good - if I keep thinking about it long after the moment is over.

6. A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley.

I think I'll stop here, actually. It seems kind of absurd to rate one third of the books you've read as the best of the year, especially when one-sixth of those are re-reads from previous years.

Best Movies I've Seen in 2006

1. The Departed. This is the Martin Scorsese film with Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon, involving Boston criminals and lots and lots of violence. It's sort of a tie between this and The Queen, but there is a part of me that feels The Queen was too light to be number 1.

2. The Queen. It's about the queen, and Tony Blair and the death of Princess Diana. What more is there to say? Oh yeah. Helen Mirren is pretty good.

3. The Devil Wears Prada. One of the best movies of the year? Probably not to most people. Not even to me, really, but thing about this movie is that it was exactly the movie I wanted to see at exactly that moment in time, so I have very warm feelings for it, much the same way I feel about Love, Actually which, truth be told, is not a great film. But Meryl Streep is so excellent in it - if you block out all the pap about Anne Hathaway's character, you can have a really enjoyable experience.

4. Inside Man. Just a plain good movie to see in a theatre - intense, fast-paced, truly suspenseful until the very end. Clive Owen rocks. [P.S. After having seen Children of Men, I can safely say that Clive Owen double rocks. And in fact Children of Men probably belongs on this list.]

5. An Inconvient Truth. Never have slideshows and animated polar bears been so powerful or rage-inducing.

6. Marie Antoinette. Frothy, light-hearted, good clean fun, if a tad overlong. Perhaps the soundtrack may have biased me a little.

Doesn't really fit since it was a made-for-TV movie, but deserves an honorable mention: Bleak House, whose virtues I expounded upon previously.

OK, I think that's all I have the energy for today, what with the obligatory January 1st hang-over and all. Welcome to 2007!

Highlights of my Christmas vacation

In no particular order:

1) Getting screamed at for being a "FUCKING BITCH!" because I could not correctly navigate my two large rolling bags in a crowd full of angry travellers and accidentally bumped my bags (which I was pulling behind me, therefore out of my line of vision) into someone else's empty luggage cart. God, why can't I just watch where I'm going, huh? Because, people, I'm just a stupid fucking bitch. (BTW, it will come as no surprise that this occured at the monstrously managed Ronald Reagan National Airport in DC, at 11:00 at night, after having spent all day on planes and in airports. Fun!).

2) Listening to BF's underweight sisters compair thigh circumference and trade remarks such as "You're so much thinner than me!" and "No, you're thinner! God, I want to kill myself, you're so much thinner than me!" Luckily, no one ever suggested I might be thin.

3) Getting screamed at by BF's little sister because we suggested going out to eat, and then, when no one could agree on just who was going to go or where we would be going, decided against the idea. This made us stupid, indecisive, and selfish, and the target of the family's hatred. In the end, we suffered through an awkward meal at a local restaurant in order for BF not to be disowned.

4) Listening to BF's alcoholic sister rage drunkenly about those goddamn gays who are always rubbing their disgusting gayness in other people's faces. If we let them get married, before you know it everyone will be gay! Do you want that, huh? Is that what you people want?

5) Being asked point blank by BF's dad, in thinly disguised language, just when the hell we were going to get married already.

6) The aforementioned quiz administered by my mother.

But really, it is so nice to be with family during the holidays, don't you think?

Hey kids, just a quick word from Tucson while my parents are at church (yes, on a Tuesday - apparently they go every day now). BF and I got in at about midnight last night, which would be 2 a.m. Eastern Time, for anyone who is keeping track. So we stumble off the plane, tired as shit and wanting nothing more than to fall into bed, when my mom greets me with the surprise that she has gone even crazier than I had previously suspected: she announces that she is giving me a test. She has made up two beds, one for me and one for BF, and it will be up to me to do the right thing and choose the appropriate place to sleep. So of course I chose to sleep in the same bed as BF. I mean, come on. We've been dating for seven years, having shared the same bed under my parents' roof many, many times in the past. What, pray tell, has changed? Nothing, only that my mother HAS GONE INSANE. *Sigh* Merry freakin' Christmas.

All I Want for Christmas

16. A sane, stable and if not completely atheist, at least tolerant family.

17. A giant piece of chocolate cake. I'm hungry, OK?

Since I may not be able to post again before Christmas, Happy Times, everyone!

Points to ponder

1. Why is the busiest night of the week at the library always a) the night before vacation starts, and b) always the night I'm working by myself?

2. Why must I be in exruciating pain in every part of my body? As I told you, I had a root canal on Monday. Root canals, by their very nature, are not the most relaxing of experiences. They involve the sucking out of the marrow, if you will, of the bone that is your tooth. They invariably involve much drilling and digging and poking with sharp, pointy objects that look as though they were invented to inflict as much pain as possible. They involve needles and metal clamps and blood and suctioning and much drooling. And, if you are me, they involve a dentist who does not know how to properly administer novocane, because let me tell you, I felt EVERY poke, and EVERY prod during my recent root canal, and at the point in the process where he sealed off the tooth with some sort of pink plastic-y, gummy stuff? I almost screamed, or started sobbing, or passed out, the pain she was so intense.

I know, why didn't I just stop him and tell him I was in pain? Because friends, I am what one calls a--how do you say?--ah yes, RETARD. At first the pain wasn't really that bad, just a little poking. I thought, "Well, OK, ouch, but whatever. I just want this bullshit over with as quickly as possible." Then it was, "OK, now that is a bit more painful, that scraping scraping SCRAPING DEAR GOD THE SCRAPING WITH THE POINTY METAL OBJECT WILL KILL ME!" But still, I told myself, being a good little stoic, that this too shall pass, and then the procedure will be over, and I can go home and cry. But oh, I was so very wrong my friends. The procedure was not over. Then came the sealing pink plastic-y stuff. It looks very innocuous, innocent almost, in its gooey bubblegum pinkness. But believe me, it is the devil. A look of sheer abject horror/misery/torture must have shone in my eyes after the dentist jabbed it into my already-screaming tooth, because he suddenly got very concerned, telling me to relax and breathe. But oh, the pain, and oh, the agony, they would not let me relax. At some point adrenaline must have kicked in, though, because gradually the pain subsided and I was able to gather the strength not to kick the dentist in the balls.

Finally, with my poor sucked-out tooth throbbing despite the rest of my mouth being numb, the root canal came to an end and I was able to limp over to the metro station to go to work. (Yes, the majority of the pain was in my tooth, but I'm sure my knees hurt, too, because they will always and forever hurt until the end of time, and thus the limping. Besides, it is a well-established fact that pain in any part of your body will manifest itself in a limp, because otherwise how will people know to feel sorry for you?)

All I Want for Christmas

12. If I can't have a house, a decent-sized two-bedroom apartment would also do nicely.

13. Oh, I don't know, I'd like some new clothes I guess.

14. For my hair to look good for just one freaking day. Just one.

15. Bigger boobs.

Maybe I should start pricing wheelchairs

So now my left knee has started hurting.

Seriously, does anyone have a rifle I can borrow? I can't guarantee its condition upon return, though.

And to think, all this nonsense started when I began running on a regular basis. Damn the running! Damn the running straight to HELL!

All I Want for Christmas

10. To miraculously be handed a job on a silver platter, wherein I will be able to work from home when it suits me, work from my very own office and/or cubicle (I'm not picky) when I need to get out of the house, and wherein I will not have to deal with human beings, I will not have to work on weekends, and where I will be able to mostly make my own hours. This job will also pay enough for me to live comfortably and take a nice vacation once a year; will have good medical benefits; and will give me ample personal leave days. I am aware this job does not exist.

11. For serious, for all this bullshit in Iraq to stop. Enough with the killing and the dying already.

Fair warning: this post is just a meme

Yeah, I know. Sorry. But hey, good news! I'm feeling slightly less like I'm drowning in my own mucus. I bravely soldier on.

Anyway.

Meme of Firsts

1. Who was your first Love?
Unfortunately, sad to say many of these will feature the answer of "BF," since as I embarrassingly reported in an earlier post, I have only ever dated one person. The same holds true for this one. If we'd like to include first crushes, on the other hand, the first crush would probably be a kid named Darren I really had a thing for in the sixth grade. I can only vaguely remember what he looked like. Either Darren or Corey Haim. I was 12--shut up.

2. Who was your first kiss and when?
Again, BF. I am such a dork. It was our first date, which would have been September 17, 1999. I think the first kiss was actually at Owen Beach in Point Defiance, which is in Tacoma. Ahhhh, Tacoma. Can you smell the romance?

3. Who was your first date?
The aforementioned BF. Before Owen Beach, we had dinner at Grazzi, an Italian restaurant in Old Town. I had a delicious salmon dish. Sadly, the restaurant is now closed...I guess we'll always have the memories.

Wait!

I lied! My first date was actually a few weeks before I went out with BF--a friend of his asked me out and we went to The Keg (mmm...Keg.....*drool* *drool*). Nothing happened with that one, obviously, especially since the guy lived in Vancouver, WA--about a 2 hour drive to the south--and he was coming down with strep throat at the time. Also, we didn't have very much to say to each other.

4. Who was your first prom date?
I never went to a prom. I never went to a single dance in high school. Do you think I missed out on anything? Other than getting to wear a pretty dress, me neither.

5. Who was your first roommate?
My cousin Missy. I attended Southern Oregon University for one mostly-regrettable year, mainly because I was too afraid to branch out on my own. After one semester, however, my life came into focus and I hastily got the hell out. The lesson was well-learned, though--never room with a friend or relative, particularly as a freshman. The whole point of going away to college is to find your own identity, not be trapped into the one that everybody else wants you to have.

6. What was your first job?
I worked at a winery in Salem, OR, during my sophomore year in high school doing data entry (no, sadly, it was not a wine-tasting gig). My cousin's then-wife (this is a different, male cousin) worked there and got me the job, but they didn't have enough computers available for me to work during the week, so I had to go up there on weekends, usually by myself, and it was always so fricking cold in there, I guess because they had to keep the wine cold (duh). On one hand I enjoyed working by myself, but on the other I got so bored (much like my job today!) that I began to loathe it with every fiber of my being. After that one year I quit, using the excuse that I needed more time to concentrate on school work, which to be honest, I did.

7. What was your first car?
The first car I drove was a 1990 white Dodge Spirit. It was neither fancy nor hoopty, just a plain vanilla car that got me from point A to point B, with very economical gas mileage. The first car I actually owned, though not purchased by me, is the same car I drive today--a 1996 dark purple Ford Contour, which has now become a death trap and is pretty much gasping its last wheezing, grinding death rattle. If the car doesn't figure into my own demise somehow, I will be very surprised, since it seems unlikely that I will ever be able to afford another one, and will have to drive this one until either it or I expire on the freeway.

8. When did you go to your first funeral?
The one and only funeral I have ever gone to was my paternal grandfather's when I was six years old. I barely remember it. My attitude at the time seemed to be, "So he's dead. When do we eat?"

9. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
I was 15 when we moved from Boise, where I had been born, to Salem. That sucked some serious testacles for someone who was as socially retarded as I was (am). I'm secretly convinced that that move precipitated my inability as an adult to settle in any one place for longer than one year at a time. Whenever I dream about being at "home," that home is usually the house I grew up in.

10. Who was your first-grade teacher?
Mrs. Spets. She hated me, because I was an ugly emotionally distraught anxiety-ridden little puke-face who would burst into tears at the first sign of trouble. I don't blame her for disliking me.

11. When you snuck out of the house for the first time, who was it with?
My friend Michelle and I were encouraged to sneak out by two popular girls in our neighborhood, Jennifer and Misha, when we were in sixth grade. We used to go to people's houses and ring the doorbell, then run away and hide, thinking we were fantastically funny. My mom caught on to us one night and deliberately freaked the bejesus out of us by following us in the car verrrrry slowly. The headlights were blaring in our eyes so we couldn't see who it was, and we were of course convinced that we were going to be kidnapped or raped. After we increased our speed from a quick, nervous trot to an all-out, hell-bent-for-leather sprint, she finally had mercy on us. I never once snuck out again, though that was mostly because I had no reason to.

12. Who was the first person to send you flowers?
Other than my mother? Why, BF, of course.

13. When was the first time you got drunk?
The summer after my senior year in college. Yes, you read that right--my SENIOR year. What the hell was wrong with me? I was such an uptight little bastard for such a long time. *Sigh* All those good party years, wasted. Anyway, my friends Jess and Jeni came over to my sublet one night and thought it would be a good idea to get me drunk and I acquiesced. So we drank wine coolers (remember wine coolers?), and I eventually got drunk, and then Jeni started putting the moves on my roommate Jason, who at the time I liked. They ended up dating for awhile and even got engaged. Don't know if they ever actually tied the knot, though. But don't feel too sorry for me--I got her back by going out with her ex-boyfriend for, oh, more than seven years now. Needless to say, Jeni and I no longer keep in touch.

14. What was the first thing you did this morning?
The very first thing? Probably cough. Then sniffle a little, then go to the bathroom.

All I want for Christmas

9. To magically be transported back to my early college years, and to tell myself a thing or two about the world. First of all, I would tell myself that it's OK to get a little drunk once in awhile and kiss a boy or two. Then I would tell myself not to be a English major, because, honey, there ain't nothin' you can do with that. Would my college self listen to me? Probably not, because she was such an anal-retentive douchebag.

Somebody please shoot me

I have to get a root canal on Monday.

All I Want for Christmas

8. A completely new set of teeth. From genetically regenerated tissue or something.

I hate the world.

I suck. You suck. The entire world sucks, because this week I am dealing with a head cold that won't go away, a bum leg, and today I have a dentist appointment. I have another physical therapy appointment on Wednesday, and next week I have yet another PT appointment, as well as another appointment with the illustrious doctor. Bah! Humbug. And undoubtedly the dentist will find many things that need to be fixed, and so the fun little appointments will continue on into infinity, sucking my money, my time, and my will to live.

Here's the thing: nothing is getting any better. I have felt like poop with my cold since last Thursday, and every day I wake up feeling exactly the same, like I'm drowning in my own mucus. My leg still hurts, which no amount of stretching or exercises seems likely to fix, since my PTs are convinced that the problem stems with the way I walk. Let me tell you, trying to fix the way you have walked for 29 years without some sort of external device to help you is basically impossible. The thing is, my right leg naturally wings out to the side when I walk, instead of straight ahead like most people's, giving me a natural turn-out like a ballet dancer's (I wish). I don't know why I do this, but it's just the way I've always walked. However, the PTs want me to correct the problem from the hip down, by rotating my hip ever so slightly forward, not just by pointing my toes straight ahead. Let me ask you, have you ever tried to tell your hips muscles to rotate forward seven degrees, and have they actually obeyed you? It doesn't work. Those muscles are not really voluntary muscles, at least not as far as walking goes.

And I've been gaining weight since I haven't been able to work out as much, due to both poopy-head-cold-drowning-in-mucus feeling and bum-leg-won't-work-right syndrome. It's just all so damn frustrating. Anyway, sorry to dump on you. On to the list.

All I Want for Christmas (or whatever I was calling it)

3. To wake up one morning in Eva Green's body (new Bond girl). She's pretty, she's thin, and she's French. She also seems tall, though I have no hard data to back this up. What more could I ask for?

4. Failing no. 3, to grow five more inches in the middle of the night.

5. The ability to excell at a sport of some kind, preferably marathon-running, tennis, swimming, cycling, or ice skating. I would also accept dancing.

6. Marriage or at least a relationship with Colin Firth, but not Colin Firth the real-live person, it would have to be Colin Firth acting in the character of Mr. Darcy; either the Pride and Prejudice Mr. Darcy or the Bridget Jones' Diary Mr. Darcy would be OK. (The BJD Mr. Darcy would probably be preferable, because then I wouldn't have to explain the 21st century to him and pesky things like that.)

7. A house. Not a big house, just a modest dwelling that is more or less in good shape and has all the modern conveniences. This house should be located in the Pacific Northwest, and as long as I'm dreaming, it may as well be in Vancouver. And I may as well go for the gold and say it should be located in Kitsilano.

OK, I think I'm caught up on the list for now.

Done and done

And I mean DONE.

Also, the Hilarity Patrol strikes again. Andrew Sullivan has a gift for finding these things. If you're a Mormon or an otherwise proseltyzing Christian and don't have a sense of humor, sorry, but you kinda have it coming.

And oh yes, let's not forget the list!

What I Want for Christmas

2. To live in a climate where the high will almost surely never be 68 degrees on Nov. 30. I mean, come on. I may as well be living in Florida. (And I HATE Florida.)

All I want for Christmas: the list

OK, I've decided to be a copycat and make a long list for this month: 25 things I want for Christmas. Not that anybody cares what I want for Christmas, but I can't think of any other list to do so you'll just have to put up with it. And unfortunately Blogger isn't savvy enough to let me create multiple pages, so I'm just gonna have to add another item to the list day by day, without making a separate page for it. Sorry.

What I Want For Christmas

1. For my leg not to melt into a puddle of pain every time I attempt exercise. As a corollary to this wish, I also want to be able to run three miles by Dec. 25. Will it happen? I don't know.

Elementary, my dear Watson

So I went to the doctor on Monday. His genius diagnosis:--wait for it--my right leg is weak. BRILLIANT DEDUCTION, HOLMES! Thank God I went to a trained physician, I never would have been able to come up with that on my own! I can see those four years in medical school really paid off.

However, the physical therapist I went to see this morning was much more enlightening (the same physical therapist, who, by the way, does not have an M.D.). He explained what he thinks the problem is, which made a lot of sense to me, and showed me a bunch of things I can do help strengthen the muscles and tendons and shiznit in my leg. So yay for physical therapists--I may just start going to physical therapists for all my medical needs.

Anyhoo. That's basically all the news I have to report. I'm hoping to have my filthy crapfest of a novel "finished" by tonight, which means I should have a very neat little icon to put on my blog soon that says I'm a proud winner of NaNoWriMo. Be on the look-out.

Happy American Thanksgiving, and stuff(ing)

So my leg hasn't fallen off yet but I am continuing my hiatus of exercise, wallowing in every ounce of fat I consume, just to insure that gangrene doesn't set in. That's totally a joke, since my pain originates neither from a gunshot wound nor from a stabbing, but from some wacky joint thing. Anyway.

You know how I'm doing the NaNoWriMo thing? It's going both well and poorly; well because I'm at 35,000 words plus some (the goal is 50,000 by Nov. 30), poorly because I've realized that my so-called novel is a) just insanely boring, and b) not the work of staggering genius I had envisioned. These sorts of realizations tend to depress me, I don't know why. I've tried to give myself the it-doesn't-matter-that-you-write-like-crap-and-will-never-be-published-and-
your-goals-in-life-are-LAUGHABLE pep talk, but I still get a little down when I have one of those flashes of insight where I suddenly see that I will never be rich and famous and no one will ever give me a Pulitzer Prize and I will never marry Colin Firth and live in a mansion in a sunny climate. Because I don't know about you, but when I was younger (like, say, 22) I used to have these fantasies that one day very soon my sparkling talent was going to be discovered, and I was going to be the toast of the talk show circuit, a media darling, a millionaire, a great and respected intellectual, and also somehow a ballerina and one of the 50 Sexiest People Alive.

And then real life kept squashing my dreams. To date, I've never had anything published, nor have I ever really finished a single story, let alone written the Great American Novel. Until last year I've been living under the poverty line and could still probably qualify for food stamps if I really put my back into it, which pretty much nullifies the mansion and the millionaire dream. And I don't know if you've noticed, but that Sexiest People thing? Ain't gonna happen. I guess it's one of those growing-up moments, where you suddenly see that yes, you are going to be just as boring as your parents and sadly, no, you aren't going to have oddles and oodles of money and a career you totally love; you will do the same things everyone else does and live a quiet life filled with vast stretches of doing nothing but getting up and going to work and in the meantime be saddled with crushing debt from those bygone years when you thought, "Hey, it's OK, I'll be rich someday."

And you just have to realize that accomplishing little goals, like writing a 50,000 word novel (which, who are we kidding, is really just a novella), is OK and is good enough and better than sitting on your ass watching Lost because Lost is just not as interesting as it used to be. And that being creative even in very tiny small ways is more than most people can do, when you get right down to it, so you shouldn't fling your hands in the air, even though it feels like poo to know that the part of yourself you always hoped would make you special turns out to be only marginally more talented than the average Joe who voted for Bush and watches Fox News and Nancy Grace on a daily basis.

(And by 'you' I mean me.)

But lest this become a downer post, I want to point everyone's attention to someone who actually can write: The Oh Really. The coolest thing about this blog? Every month she puts out a new list, one item for every day of the month. It's ingenius. Why didn't I think of this? Oh yeah, because I'm an idiot. Anyway, enjoy.

This Very Special Blog Post has been brought to you by The Misanthrope.

Further proof that life is unfair

First of all, was I right or was I right? Jim Webb, welcome to the United States Senate. Unfortunately, his victory was sullied by an outrageous act of unfairness perpetrated right here in Arlington by my very own BF. Turns out Mr. Namby-Pamby Non-Voter (according to his story, his Oregon ballot got lost in the mail--very believable), just happened to wander into Senator Webb's victory rally, which took place about four blocks from our apartment. I was at work at the time, and temporarily revived myself from a swoon of boredom to see an IM message from BF that read something along the lines of "oh yeah, went to webb's victory rally at courthouse plaza today." Not only that, he even got to shake the hand of the soon-to-be-senator, a man he DIDN'T EVEN VOTE FOR.

Grptharghaskldjfioaewh;fot;lohngklasdjhf!!!

That's the sound of me dying from apoplectic fit of rage.

Anyway. In other news, my right leg has finally had enough of my shenanigans and has gone on strike for an unspecified length of time. I'm thinking I should see a doctor about this. Unfortunately, the terms of my health care plan are blurry and I keep going around in circles when I try to find a sports doctor on my plan's web site. I'm pretty sure the fact that my right leg crumples like a piece of paper whenever I try to run or do any sort of cardio activity has to do with overuse and/or repetitive stress injuries, and that's probably exactly what Highly Paid Doctor Who Will Make Me Wait Two Months to See Him will say, but I'm hoping maybe he or she will be able to give me some sort of miracle orthotic that will suddenly cure all my ails, or maybe even just a nice Ace bandage.

Meanwhile, I have decided it would be wise not to aggravate my injuries any further, so have discontinued workouts for the time being, which couldn't have come at a worse time since Thanksgiving is next week and therefore I will be gorging myself silly. The logical thing would be to just not eat as much during this time I'm trying to heal, but logic is for sissies. The gorging cannot be stopped. What's a girl to do? Looks like bulimia is the only answer.

I lost my scarf to democracy

I lost it yesterday morning on my way out of the polling center, after standing in line for one hour and fifteen minutes in order to vote for Jim Webb, Senator elect of the Commonwealth of Virginia, for which action of devotion I will be accepting flowers, cards, cash gifts, and replacement scarves (I like shades of blue) as tokens of your gratitude. Yes, I know he hasn't been declared the official winner yet, but he's ahead by 7200 votes, people. I don't see Allen regaining many of those in the inevitable and lengthy recount brouhaha ahead, so I'm going out on a limb and calling it: Jim Webb, Senator (D).

And as for the other election results, can I just get an AMEN!!!

Thank you, oh people of America, for finally pulling your heads out of your gigantic obese American asses. (Wait, was that too accurate...I mean, derogatory?)

Belated Halloween present from me to you

BF found this one on Andrew Sullivan's blog. Beware: Not appropriate for work. Do not eat or drink anything while watching this. Do not watch in the presence of small children. View at your own risk.

Scary Halloween Video

One more, but not exactly scary, just poignant and sad. This is more of an election day present.

Forgot to mention...

We went to see The Decemberists here in DC on Sunday night. It was fantastic. Interestingly, I had always imagined the lead singer to be very thin and wispy, and maybe somewhat sickly looking, I guess because of his high reedy voice. In actuality he's not wispy at all and is quite down-to-earth. I had no expectations of the other band members, so can't say how they compared to my imagination. All in all, I had a great time, especially now that I'm off the blasted 8:45-5:30 schedule, which meant I could sleep in after my late night and still make it to work on time.

If you don't know who The Decemberists are, you should go to the web site linked above and then download their music from whatever entirely legal venue you prefer. They are from Oregon, which automatically makes them slightly cooler than they might otherwise have been.

Happy Halloween and shiznit like that

I'm a lamer. I can't think of much to say on this, the most hallowed of eves, because unfortunately I'm at work. Although to be fair, I probably wouldn't be able to think of anything even if I weren't. So the orginal plan for this evening, and believe me there was a plan, was to do something really wild and unusual tonight, such as watch The Shining on the DVD. But alas, my boss got sick and I graciously volunteered to swap evening shifts with her (read: saw which way the wind was blowing yesterday afternoon, and decided that if I didn't want to end up having to work an 11-hour day today I'd better offer to switch).

So pretty much all I have to offer are links tonight. But if you're reading this you probably don't have a lot else going on anyway, so I don't feel too bad for you.

• This one has been making the rounds. The yoda costume in particular makes me want to simultaneously laugh and give the poor dog a new home.

• My brother had the same clown costume made by my mother in the 70s. I guess it was the must-have clown pattern of the era.

I wish I had thought to scan some of my Halloween pictures from childhood, but who really cares anyway? It's an awful lot of work for a crappy blog no one reads (there I go, feeling sorry for myself again). However, the last link has given me an idea (you see how stream-of-consciousness this blog is? I don't even know what I'm going to say until I sit here and type it. Polished, professional writing is for pantywaists!) (And also, do you see how uncreative and unoriginal I am? All I do is steal ideas from other people.)

Oh, anyway, the idea is to make a list of all the Halloween costumes I've worn. I don't even know how many of them I'll remember but here we go.

Age 5ish?: Clown, I think. I'm pretty sure there was a clown in there somewhere. It would have been my brother's old costume that I wore.

Age 6: Cheerleader. I made my mother special order me a cheerleader costume from Sears (or possibly it was JC Penney). My early obsession with cheerleaders and cheerleading in general remains an embarrassing blight on my otherwise pro-feminist record.

Age 7: ?

Age 8: Was a freaky sort of Buckwheat-esque vampire. I really need to find the pictures for these. Wore an old wig my brother had.

Age 9: Flapper. Wore an old dress with flapper fringe my mom let me use for playing dress-up.

Age 10: Punk rocker. This was the Madonna era, in which dressing as a "punk" meant buying a can of pink glittery hair spray and wearing jelly bracelets and fishnet tights.

Age 11: ?

Age 12: I believe this was the year of Beetlejuice.

Age 13: Last year trick-or-treating; dressed as a jester, and made my mother sew the costume from scratch (with a pattern, of course).

I didn't really dress up for Halloween for the rest of teenager-dom. I resumed sporadically in the college and post-college years.

Age 19: Wednesday Adams.

Age 20: Dead prom queen. I don't know.

Age 21: Swing dancer.

Age 25: Butterfly.

Age 27: Pirate.

Last year I was going to dress up as a Canadian, but as it was 70-some-odd degrees outside I threw a mental temper tantrum and refused to celebrate such a clearly Autumnal tradition in such a clearly back-asswards non-Autumnal climate. This year I just couldn't be bothered with the whole thing in the end. Being an adult is so mind-numbingly dull. (And by the way, the high today was 75, in case you were wondering.)

Here I am

Sorry about the absence, oh loyal 2.5 readers. Unfortunately, I still don't have much to say...I'm back at the old job, which is still boring but soothingly so - at least so far. I don't have the urge to beat myself senseless with any computer machinery yet, which I think is a good sign, but I am currently in the midst of my second back-to-back six day work week, so maybe things will have changed by Saturday.

I'm trying to think of something cool and Halloween-esque to blog about, but alas, nothing is coming to mind. You know, Halloween has slowly evolved into perhaps my favorite holiday, probably because it's so refreshingly juvenile, has no current religious affiliations, has no real family aspect (I don't feel pressured to spend a month's salary to fly home and see my parents on Halloween), and is a holiday built around these three things: a) dressing up in costume, b) scaring oneself (or others) silly for no apparent reason other than that it's fun, and c) giving and receiving vast quantities of candy, again for no apparent reason. Yay! It's better than St. Patrick's Day, another basically frivolous holiday, because while yes, drinking vast amounts of green beer can be enjoyable, where's the creativity? Like it's really that difficult to find a piece of green clothing to wear. And there is no candy involved, so end of story. New Years' Eve, which is the only other real non-religious holiday celebrated in North America that has no solemn aspect to it, also comes in behind Halloween for the lack of candy.

OMG, get this. I just found a Halloween meme, yo!

Halloween Meme

1. What is your favorite work of horror fiction?
I'm trying to think of something more original than Dracula. How about Turn of the Screw, by Henry James? Freaked the shit out of me. I'm on the waiting list for Scott Smith's The Ruins, which I hear is poop-your-pants scary.

2. What is your favorite work of science fiction/fantasy?
Hmm, it's been awhile since I've read anything in either genre. I guess I would go with 1984, although I think it fits better into dystopia fiction, but whatever.

3. What is your favorite monster?
Well, if we're talking generically, I would have to say vampires. They are the shit. (I seem to be scatalogically-focused this evening. Sorry.) They sleep in coffins, they suck blood, and they can turn into bats, wolves, and mist. I'm sorry, what else can do that? Plus they're sexy.

4. What horror movie gives you the most chills?
Well, for sheer post-traumatic stress syndrome terror, I would have go with The Ring, which haunted me for weeks. I think it was because of the disconcerting images, which have a tendency to stay with me, particularly in the middle of the night when I have to pee. They have since been milked to the point of ridiculousness in all the Japanese horror remake movies, but I still avoid them for the sake of unterrified sleep.

5. Freddy versus Jason?
Whatever.

6. What is your favorite Halloween treat?
As far as things you can only get at Halloween? Candy corn.

7. Ghosts or goblins?
Ghosts, I guess. Goblins are basically little people with a bad attitude. How can they be scary?

8. What is your scariest encounter with the paranormal?
Do not have one.

9. Do you believe in ghosts?
No, although I still get creeped out thinking about them when I'm alone at night. I think basically I'm just a wuss.

10. Favorite Halloween costume?
One year I dressed up as the character Beetlejuice, from the eponymous movie. I bought a black-and-white striped prisoner outfit from a costume store, and had my mom cut up the shirt and sew it into a suit jacket. It was great, although I doubt very many people understood what I was supposed to be. I think I was in sixth grade at the time - one of my last years trick-or-treating.

A pointless post in which I really don't say much of anything

So now that my life is on a relatively even keel, I find I have very little to blog about. That's why I should probably buy No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for a Blog, but it cost $20 at Barnes and Noble, so I just flipped through it at the store instead. And of course now I can't really remember any of the ideas that were in it, so I'll just rip one off from Dooce.

This idea is to talk about your dealbreakers in regards to dating. Well, guess what. Apparently I have no deal breakers, because I'm still dating my first boyfriend. Before you start thinking I'm some creepy person who is still dating their high school sweetheart at the age of 29, let me assure you that I didn't meet the BF until I was 22 and in my last semester of college. How did it come to pass that someone as cool as me didn't have a boyfriend until the ripe old age of 22, you ask? Well, it is tragic, but I chalk it up to a unique combination of painful shyness as a teenager+basic Catholic fear of the opposite sex, based mainly on the larger Catholic fear of getting pregnant out of wedlock+a bad case of acne+a crushing inferiority complex. All of those have pretty much cleared up now, except for the acne.

Anyway. If I was single and back in the dating world, I think these might be my dealbreakers (patrons and staff at the library where I work, please take note):

1. Drunkenness.
2. Calling me honey, baby, sweetie, or gorgeous before we've even been so much as properly introduced.
3. Leering at me in a disgusting manner while drunk, high, or stinky, and muttering obscene remarks under your breath as I walk by.
4. Body odor.

But maybe I'm just picky.

Well, to change the subject completely, I saw The Queen last night and really enjoyed it. It's one of those movies that won't really change the world, but the great acting and interesting point of view made it quite enjoyable just the same. Also, I just finished a really intriguing book called Gilgamesh by Joan London (not the Joan Lundon of Good Morning America fame). The writing was excellent - tight, sparse, clean prose. I expect she will win the Booker or Orange prize one of these days (I say, acting all like I know what I'm talking about). But really, an excellent book - check it out. Now I'm on to The Night Watch by Sarah Waters, which was short-listed for the Booker, but I haven't gotten far enough to know how it'll be. Maybe after that I'll start on Bleak House.

Speaking of writing, I'm gearing up to participate in NaNoWriMo once again this November (National Novel Writing Month). I did it last year (don't remember if I publicized that fact) and churned out what can only be described as a piece of shit. However, try, try again, right? I really do want to get back into writing again, which I know is what I always say, but maybe I'll actually do it this time. I just need some discipline.

Anyway, I'll post again when either a) something noteworthy happens, which, it being my last week at the job from hell, is entirely likely given my patrons' penchants for having psychotic episodes and/or exposing themselves OR b) I start my new job, which begins Saturday, the day following my last day in Hell.

And so it is done.

I gave my two weeks' notice today - next Friday will be my last day at the Job From Hell. I still haven't gotten an official offer from my previous employers, but have been assured it will be forthcoming. I gave my notice now because last Friday was a hideous day - crazies yelling at me, stupid people trying to use the Internets (one woman asked me, when the computers automatically logged off at the end of the day, if she could use my computer to close out of her email account), and homeless galore, who stayed right until the dot of closing, then left all their newspapers, books, magazines, and various shit on the tables for me to pick up. So I decided enough was enough. I still don't know if this is a good move or a bad move; I'm happy to be going back to someplace where people care about me, but on the other hand I feel like a big loser - who goes through the pointless tediousness of getting an MLS just to work as a paraprofessional?

Fuck.

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving

BWA-HAHAHAHAHA!

Guess what? I found a new meme, courtesy of the BF! I knew you'd be thrilled. But it's a book-themed meme, so it should be relevant in some way to the topics here. Or not.

Book Meme

1) One book that changed your life.

I've thought long and hard about this answer. And I don't know that I can point to just one book. But for the sake of time, I'll just say something lame, which is a book called The Introvert Advantage. It's not a well-known book or even necessarily a good book, and it didn't exactly change my life, but I felt like it explained a lot of things about my personality and made me feel so much better about myself. I finally felt like it was OK, and not somehow socially deviant, to be a quiet, contemplative, and somewhat cautious person. And I realized that people who make fun of me? Are just extroverted retards who can't wrap their mind around the fact that someone who is quiet is not somehow wrong or bad or plotting the death of the world (though in my case that may be true); they are simply just made differently.

2) One book you've read more than once.

Well, if you know anything about me at all, you know that there are tons of books I've read more than once. These are the books I read on an annual/bi-annual basis: Jane Eyre (although it's sort of fallen out of the rotation, since I've read it so many times and gotten a little sick of it); The Accidental Tourist; Bridget Jones' Diary; To Kill a Mockingbird. I never claimed to be deep or anything.

3) One book you'd want with you on a desert island.

I've actually given this one some serious thought unrelated to the meme, and I think I'd have to go with the Bible. Not for religious reasons, obviously, but because a) the Bible is long and b) it has tons of different stories. You could open it anywhere and start reading, or go from start to finish - either way, hours of entertainment. On the other hand, it might be better just to go with one of the Norton anthologies of English literature.

4) One book that made you cry.

Hmm. I was never one of those horsey-girls growing up, so I can't give the pat Black Beauty answer. (Or whatever one it is that always makes twelve-year-old girls cry.) And in fact I have cried while reading many books, and probably recently too, but I just can't think of what they are right now. So I'll go with a book that I know made me cry when I first read it (yes, I was twelve): Anne of Green Gables. And I don't remember what it was exactly that made me cry, but I think it had something to do with Gilbert.

5) One book that made you laugh.

Any book by Anne Lamott, particularly Bird by Bird and Operating Instructions. That girl is funny.

6) One book that you wish had been written.

There's really no better answer than Ezra Klein's (from whose blog I got this meme in the first place).

"...I'd go with What I Think About Things, In Simple, Declarative Sentences and Dark Ink by Jesus."

And I'll add one of my own: How I Learned to Walk, Talk, and Obtain Self-Awareness by The First Man.


7) One book you wish had never been written.

I'm one of those lefty types who believes in a little thing called "intellectual freedom", and therefore it's hard for me not to think there is at least some merit to every idea out there, if only to show us how absurd and fucking crazy some rightwing nutjobs are. However, since I must give an answer, I'll say something all politically correct like Mein Kampf. The world would probably have turned out just fine had that book never been written.

8) One book you are reading currently.

A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley. I bought it at the library's fall book sale. At least it's readable, unlike the last book I checked out, which shall remain nameless. (*cough* Poe's Shadow by Matthew Pearl *cough*)

9) One book you've been meaning to read.

The list could on forever. Basically I've been meaning to read every book that's been published, I just haven't found the time. But here's my answer: A Short History of Canada. If I'm going to be a citizen someday, it's something I should know about.

10) What book do you routinely recommend but haven't actually read?

Um. I don't know that I've ever recommended a book that I haven't read. Unless it's to say, "I hear such and such is a good book, but I haven't read it yet." I don't routinely recommend them, but I've been saying that a lot lately about Edward P. Jones' books (All Aunt Hagar's Children, The Known World), since he's a DC native and just published a new book that has been getting good reviews.

P.S. Still no news about the old job. Still toiling away at the horrible one.

My melancholy whores...i mean, woes.

Judging from my lack of email these days, I'm beginning to think that my depression and bleakness of spirit is driving everyone away. Therefore, this post will be devoted to counting my blessings, so as to show that I too can see the glass as half full. Or at least not as pointlessly empty as I had feared.

So. Ahem.

My "Blessings" (by which term I do not intend to mean "gifts bestowed by a higher power", but rather "ways in which I, for whatever reason, happen to perhaps be more fortunate than others.")

1. With the exception of a vast array of dental problems, various infections, a cold, and several moles that may or may not be cancerous, I am healthy.

2. All of my limbs are present and functioning.

3. I am employed, with a steady paycheck and medical benefits (notice I didn't say a high paycheck, nor great benefits, but that is a discussion for another post).

4. I am no longer overweight.

5. I can run three miles in 30 minutes, which I've never been able to do before, having hated running like it was the spawn of satan since childhood. Although even now my right hip aches for the rest of the day.

6. I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in at night, and plenty of food on the table (nothing funny about that, sorry).

7. I am not insane, or at least not so much so that I walk around yelling at the voices in my head, or at the librarians in my local public library.

8. I am in a steady, long-term relationship with someone who presumably loves me despite my often irritating habit of hating the entire world and everyone in it.

9. I have an adorable cat who, while maybe not quite understanding the concept of love, at least accepts with good humor all the pets, kisses, hugs, cuddles, and cat food I lavish upon her. (Except when she's in a bad mood, and then she cannot abide the sight of my fat ugly face.)

10. Umm, ten. Teeeeennnnn.....OK. I have fairly reliable Internet access, without whose fruits of popular culture and online bill-paying/shopping convenience I would not be able to live.

11. All of my immediate family members are still alive and are more or less on speaking terms with one another.

12. While violence is not exactly unheard of in this area of the world, I don't generally have to fear for my life walking down the street and going about my normal everyday activities. Americans only start wars; we don't live with the consequences of them.

Alrighty, then. I think that's enough blessings for one post. Don't expect me to keep up this Miss Mary Sunshine act, though.

P.S. No word yet on whether I will be able to go back to my old job. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that bureaucracies move at the pace of geologic time. It could be weeks before I know anything for sure.

First things first

My pirate name:

My pirate name is:

Dirty Ethel Vane

You're the pirate everyone else wants to throw in the ocean -- not to get rid of you, you understand; just to get rid of the smell. You tend to blend into the background occaisionally, but that's okay, because it's much easier to sneak up on people and disembowel them that way. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Second, things at work have gone from really, really bad to OH MY GOD THAT SUCKS. Just playing a waiting game now, which actually I've been doing since I took this new job and frankly I'm getting pretty tired of it. I find it interesting that the library management seems to think it's perfectly acceptable to keep dicking us around, promising us that new and exciting jobs are just around the corner, then yanking the rug out from under us repeatedly. We've now been given "temporary" assignments, since they decided on Friday to officially cancel my department, starting now. Um, thanks. They seem to forget that each of us applied for this job specifically,not just for any old reference desk job in the library. So now I'm just trying to decide when to hand in my notice; I was going to wait until I had an offer in writing from my old job, but now I honestly don't know if I can stay at the other place that long.

Anyway, may this be a lesson to all of you: beware a change of library management. Actually, beware of jobs that don't deliver what they promise within 30 days of starting. The really sad part of this whole story is that I felt in my gut all along that this was going to be a huge mistake for me, and lo and behold, it was. But no, being the good little soldier I am always trying to be, I kept going, hoping that things would change when all the signs were pointing to a dead end road. So. The moral here: it's OK to change your mind if that's what your instincts are telling you. I didn't have a crystal ball; I couldn't know before accepting this position that it was going to suck ass through a straw. But after a couple of weeks I could see that very clearly, and I should have gotten out right then.

Bah. Humbug.

Chronicles of the ghetto librarian

A few points of order:

1. A man was kicked out of the area where I was working on the reference desk for masturbating at a public access computer. Prior to his being escorted out by a security officer, he called me over to help him watch a porn movie. I refused. A short while later the other librarian working at the desk said another patron tipped him off that the man was masturbating, and the librarian went and got security.

2. My division has officially been dissolved. I haven't been laid off, thanks in large part to the librarian's union, but I have no idea what I'll be doing or where I'll be going next week. Of course, no one has had the courtesy to tell me this to my face; instead it's all been meted out through rumor and innuendo. However, one of my coworkers did get official confirmation from someone present at the fateful meeting where this was all decided. The staff in my division were not invited to said meeting, by the way.

3. Points one and two have cemented my determination to leave this job and go back to the old one. Career-wise I am probably making a huge mistake, but I don't think I can live like this for much longer.

4. Despite points one, two, and three above, the BF and I spent a lovely weekend in Williamsburg, Virginia. On Saturday we went to Busch Gardens, where we rode every rollercoaster the park had to offer; some of them we rode twice. It was excellent, and went a little something like this. (Amateur video taken by BF while waiting in line.)

5. On the drive home, we saw cops pulled over on the side of the freeway with their guns drawn. Both the BF and I, driving in the right lane next to the cop cars, were ready to duck for cover lest we be caught in the line of fire. Luckily as we eased by, it appeared as though the person in their sites was surrendering, and thus we were not in danger of being hit by stray bullets, but it was tense there for a second.

Never a dull moment.

...And the suckage just keeps on coming

So more changes are in the works for me. I don't want to jinx it, so I'm not going to say what it is, but I bet you can probably guess from whence the changes spring. I am entering dark times. Or I guess I should say, the times are getting even darker than they were before. I am experiencing career/existential angst to an enormous degree; as in, if I have no career, do I exist? Or something like that. Or perhaps I'm merely pondering the lack of existence of a career. This is in addition to my turning-30 existential angst, which will happen sooner than I care to think about.

Oh, friends. At the risk of sounding like a downer ("You, a downer?" you say. "I am all astonishment!") I feel like not one good thing has come from this move to DC. Unless you count the gathering of self-knowledge that I can live on a pittance amidst people I hate, which I had already figured out from past experience, thank you very much.

I'm sorry, I hate to be so depressing. Here's one goo0d thing: I've just finished watching the Bleak House mini-series, which was excellent and I highly recommend it if you are into such things. You know what I love about the British? They aren't afraid to hire average-looking actors for roles that quite obviously require an average-looking person. I'm just saying. It's also great that they aren't afraid to hire hideously ugly people if the role requires it, which apparently several roles in Bleak House did. Anyway, the series has inspired me to reread Dicken's Bleak House book, but maybe I'll wait a little while so I can get a some distance from the show and really immerse myself in the novel. There, aren't you glad I told you that? I'm also thinking about lying in bed all day long for the rest of my life, subsisting on nothing but Godiva chocolates. But perhaps that's a less positive goal.

OK, I can't keep it a secret any longer since I want to solicit my dear readers' advice: I'm probably going back to my old job. Here's the deal: last week my co-workers and I had meetings with some of the management-types at the library. The outcomes of these meetings were not very encouraging, as it has become apparent that no one in management really full-on supports the mission and vision of our department. So here we've been doing nothing for two months, waiting on promises that soon we would be able to start doing the work we were hired to do. Now it looks as if that's not really going to happen, and while we won't be fired, we will probably be reassigned to different roles. Which means reassigned to different reference desks throughout the library. Which means working face-to-face with the crazy-ass patrons on a daily basis, something I never wanted to do in the first place (my originial job title would not have included desk reference), and for which I would have not taken the job in the first place had I known I would be required to do it. So I think I want to go back to a place where, if quiet and boring, at least sanity reigns supreme.

But the decision has not completely been made yet, and I am in a bit of a muddle. For one thing, I would be going back to mere subsistence pay (less, really). I would be going from a professional position back to a paraprofessional position. I would, in short, be setting my career back to square one. Can I afford to do this, either from a career-building standpoint or a personal-finance standpoint? No, I cannot. And yet going to work at the loony bin every day has me tied up in knots; I'm nervous and depressed all the time, and I dread going to work every morning. Not to mention that getting up at 5 a.m. so that I can go to the gym before work definitely has its downsides. So what do you think? Am I being completely moronic? Should I just suck it up and take it for nine more months until I can move? Or should I go back to my old job where I can be sane but bored and broke?

Somebody here is smoking crack, and it isn't you

OK, I'm back from whatever little self-delusion inspired me to think I could actually run a half-marathon. For one thing, I started looking at running blogs after writing that last post, and kept coming across a bunch of scary, baffling terminology that I'd never heard before, such as "training" and "long run." So then I saw the light and realized that maybe I should start off with something a bit smaller, like maybe a 5K. For now I'll leave the marathons and half-marathons to the people who actually know what they're doing (or like to pretend they do, for the sake of bragging about their finishing times to other runners).

In other news, my job just keeps getting suckier and suckier. Some new things have come about, some new, bad things. And I found out that one of my co-workers, the one I really enjoy working with and feel a solidarity with, is looking for other jobs. Oy vey. My entire being has been screaming OH SHIT!! for the past month or so, which is beginning to take a toll on me. Luckily my appetite remains undiminished. However, the rest of me has become one large knotted ball of stress. I'm just trying to figure out a way to hang on until next summer, at which point I am going to spin a globe and move to the exact spot which is farthest away from here. Well, that's a lie--actually I'll move back to the Northwest, which is as far away from here as you can get in the Continental United States.

In more other news, Tropical Storm Ernesto has my undying gratitude, for it is through him that we received lots of wind, rain, and temperatures in the --wait for it-- 60s yesterday. The entire day was gray and stormy, and while today isn't as cool or as tempestuous, it is also blissfully gray and unhot and unhumid and un-DC-like. Of course by Monday temperatures will be back in the stifling 80s with enough humidity to drown a small child, but what can you do.

Nothing new here

Sorry I haven't posted in so long, I was just waiting for something exciting to happen that I could write about, but I keep coming up empty so I'll just have to write about how boring my life is. My job is still the status quo. My stalker is still stalking; the sexual harassers are still harassing; the crazies are still crazying. I found myself pondering today whether sustained abject boredom could in fact drive someone insane. I think the answer is yes. But I also know that dwelling on the boredom and the listlessness and the OH MY GOD THE BOREDOM also courts madness. But I don't know what the solution is. I tried the getting-a-new-job route, to no avail. Should I just resign myself to my fate, which is that I will forever do nothing for a living and be doomed to live eight hours a day for the rest of my life in a lethargic stupor? Perhaps.

In other news, I'm playing with the idea of running a half-marathon. No doubt this is merely a giddy fantasy brought on by enduring hour upon hour of soul-sucking lassitude, but nevertheless, the idea is sitting there in my brain like a big giant lump of are-you-kidding-me? I don't know...I've been running about twice a week lately...which apparently in my mind qualifies me to run a half-marathon. But seriously, even though I've only been running on a treadmill, I've been enjoying the experience much more than I ever would have thought likely, and I've been wondering (fantasizing) about taking it to the next level. So maybe. We'll see. And I guess I should also admit here that a part of the fantasy involves me becoming very thin and toned in a long-distance-runner sort of way, meanwhile burning so many calories that I can eat burger after burger with nary a fat cell to show for it. Dream on, sleepy dreamer.

The only other thing that has been happening in my life is that I have been tearing through books like the library's on fire. That's the good and bad part of working mere feet from the popular fiction section of a large library. Bad because my reading has been very disorganized of late. Not that it ever is very organized, but as some of you may have noticed, I have a long list of books on my sidebar that have been there for quite some time now, that I can't ever seem to get around to reading. And every day I find more stuff that I want to read, and I start checking out books willy-nilly. There just isn't enough time in the day, dammit! Oh well, I guess there are worse habits to have.

Anyway, that concludes today's rambling thoughts. Carry on.

Like banging my head against a brick wall

So I'm sitting here at work thinking, "OK. Today's not so bad. My stalker has only been in once today (for a duration of three hours, but still) and he didn't even talk to me. Yesterday he didn't talk to me AND he didn't sit near me at all. Things are looking up. I am winning this war."

Then a perfectly benign looking guy comes up and asks me where the construction books are. I tell him where I think they might be and am just about to go back to the very important blog I was reading when he says, "You sure are purty." *SIGH*

I mean, OK, on one very small hand it's flattering and nice. He wasn't too gross about it or anything, and I think he genuinely meant it as a compliment and not necessarily as a stalker-esque come-on. But still. People. I am a LIBRARIAN. I am not some girl standing on a street corner handing out free information. WHY OH WHY do men think it's OK to say this to professional women (or any women really, but particularly women who are AT WORK AND CURRENTLY WORKING)? Would they say it to a woman lawyer or a woman doctor? Really, the sexism in this world continues to amaze me. Would I go up to a man sitting at a desk and say, "Wow, you sure are a hottie! And incidentally, can you tell me where the books on Hitler are?"*

All of which makes me come to the conclusion that some men seem to see any woman, anywhere, whether she is at work or no, as a potential screw. And I'm sorry to have to put it so bluntly, but there it is.

Here is the thing: a little flirting, if the woman seems OK with it, is fine. We all know this. But there are unacceptable forms of flirting WITH SOMEONE WHO IS AT WORK and not falling over drunk at a bar or advertising herself on a street corner (although in that case I guess she'd still be at work) which includes: telling them they are pretty, cute, adorable, gorgeous, or mentioning anything that refers to their physical being; calling them honey, baby, sweetie, or any term of endearment one generally saves for one's closest relatives (unless the man is old enough to be your grandfather and says it in a non-gross way, in which case it's OK); leering at the person; using any pick-up line whatsoever; and finally, asking the person questions of a personal nature. If flirting should get to such a level that both parties find it agreeable to partake in any of the activities mentioned above, the flirting should be taken outside of the person's workspace so that all other transactions with members of the public remain professional and so that one doesn't get fired. Otherwise, these things should be avoided at all costs. They just should. I don't know how I know this, but I do.

And I know you all know this, too, but I feel better for having laid out the rules for any of my fellow human beings who may have missed that day in Societal Relations class.

Thank you.

*The answer, by the way, is no I would not.

I know I shouldn't laugh

...but a woman came in to the library today who had a piece of duct tape over her mouth. It wasn't as though she had just been kidnapped and had run into the library wild-eyed and disheveled having escaped her captors in a frenzied chase, a la a Lifetime Television Movie. Nope, she was just sitting there calmly reading a book, pleasant as can be. With a square of duct tape covering her mouth.

Yep. It is sad for sure, but also a little bit funny. Because if you can't laugh at the psychos? Who can you laugh at?

Violent tendencies

Something has been eating away at me, and it pertains to the last post I wrote about sexual harassment.

A man has been coming into the library every day for the past week, sitting in the chairs next to my work station, staring at me for a long time, then approaching me, usually when I'm alone, and asking me personal questions, such as whether or not I'm married. I've tried to nip this stalker in the bud myself by being brusque with him, rude even, and making it plain that I want to have nothing to do with him. What worries me, though, is that while any sane mentally balanced man would have gotten the hint by now that I am not at all interested in talking to him, he continues to come into the library every day and perform this routine. It keeps me awake at night, and I am now actually scared of going to work. On Friday I spoke with one of the security guards at the library and he was very sympathetic - he told me that all I had to do was call security and they would remove him. On the other hand there are several security guards who work at the library, and I don't kow if they would all be so sympathetic. However, the larger issue here is that I'm worried about my personal safety, not really while I am at work, but rather while I'm travelling to and from work, and even while I'm in my home. I think about it constantly. My BF is going out of town for a week starting Friday, and I'm afraid something will happen while he's gone. I feel like I'm trapped in this little panicky world of fear, and frankly it's pissing me off that I have to worry and obsess over something as simple as being at work every day, just because some asshole is insane and won't take no for an answer.

And I worry that having this guy thrown out of the library will only make him angry, and will make him more focused on me as a target.

And I'm infuriated that I have to put up with all this bullshit because the administration at the library won't give us an office, so I have to sit in full view of the public all day long, subject to the passing insanities of whichever psychopath walks through the door.

I want to beat someone up.

It just keeps getting better

I have a dilemma (when don't I?). I've been getting what I casually refer to as "sexually harassed" at my job on a daily basis. Not necessarily by one person (though there are a few of those, too), but mostly from drive-by harassers. By this I mean men who leer at me as they walk by my "desk" in the lobby and say something along the lines of, "How you doin', baby?" It looks ridiculous when I type it, but I swear it happens.*

*I realize that I cannot adequately convey the lechery that these guys put into their eyes and voices. Reading it in print, it seems like I'm completely overreacting. However, I know what I feel and it ain't pretty, and it ain't harmless.

So my dilemma is: how do I react to these men, and in a way that won't get me fired? It's not like I can tell them to eat shit and die, which would be my normal response. So far I've been so taken aback by the casual lewdness that I barely have time to scowl and look away, much less say anything in response. The thing that really gets me is that I know these guys know that they're making me uncomfortable; in fact, that's the whole point of it for them. They know (don't they? they must) that I am in a public service position and that as such I must put on a happy face and appear polite and friendly to everyone, and that I'm not smiling and saying hello to them because I want to hook up with them after work.

What do I say? How do I respond? Usually they're gone before I can open my mouth so it's not like I can go off on some diatribe about respecting my authority or anything. My thought as I'm writing this is that there is really nothing I can do - jerks are going to be jerks, and unfortunately as a young-ish, not wholly fugly woman, this type of stuff is going to happen and I'm just going to have to grin and bear it, given the dregs of humanity that pass through the door. *Bastards* But in case any of you faithful readers have some helfpul advice, I'm putting this question out to you.

So yeah, about the heat

First things first, I would like to give myself a big pat on the back for refraining from talking about the heat wave the entire week. Thank you very much. All I have to say about the heat itself: it was hot; it was excruciating; I survived, as did millions of others.

Second, I would like to point out that air conditioning has been broken at my work since last Tuesday. Which, luckily for me, resulted in an early dismissal on Tuesday and a day off on Wednesday. However, we've been forced to work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in sweltering conditions. Some of the subject divisions have been closed because the librarians refuse (as is their Union-given right) to work in such heat. But the end result of all this is that I, sitting near said closed divisions (and on a Saturday, no less), have now become the sounding board FOR EVERY SINGLE FUCKING COMPLAINT about the divisions being closed. Do I look like I give a god damn, people? NO. I myself would rather be at home lying in air conditioned splendor than sitting here listening to you lose your shit because you can't check out a library book.

This is all further evidence, of course, that I have chosen the wrong profession, the wrong city to live in, the wrong interests and hobbies, and the wrong personality with which to go out into the world.

Fun with Blogthings

Your Brain's Pattern

You have a tempered, reasonable way of thinking. You tend to take every new idea in, and meld it with your world view. For you, everything is always changing. Each moment is different. Your thinking process tends to be very natural - with no beginnings or endings.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

In a Past Life...

You Were: An Evil Chief. Where You Lived: Ontario. How You Died: Buried alive.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Hehe. Excellent.

Your Pimp Name Is...

Silky Luv

What's Your Pimp Name?

Indeed.

Your Monster Profile

Cruel Fiend You Feast On: Fingernails You Lurk Around In: The Backseats of Cars You Especially Like to Torment: Priests

What's Your Monster Name?

I obviously don't have enough to fill my time.

Memes R Us

Before I get started on this week's meme, I would just like to mention that one of the perks of my new job is getting yelled at by crazy people on a daily basis. I quite enjoy it, and think that I have really perfected my skill at being a target for other people's psychoses. Another thing I'm really good at these days is getting eye-raped by every scumbag who walks through the door. So, I'm learning lots of new things at this job and should have quite the skill set to put on my resume by the time I depart.

That is all.

OK, the meme. I got this from the archives at Dooce, and while it closely resembles other memes I have done it is completely new and therefore I am obligated to do it, even though of course I was not actually tagged by Dooce (nor anyone, ever).

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over (the list is much longer than four in my case, but I'll try to narrow it down for you)

1. Office Space - this one is a given. I don't even think I need to extrapolate on its superb qualities of watchability.
2. Pride and Prejudice, the 1995 BBC version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. This movie (all six hours of it) is like comfort food to me - whenever I'm nervous or depressed or just in the mood to watch a hunky man in breeches, this does it for me.
3. Strictly Ballroom. I don't watch this as much as I used to, but it's still a timeless tale of Australian ballroom dancers with really funky hair who dare to dance their own steps.
4. The Breakfast Club. I had to throw in an '80s John Hughes movie just for balance.

Four Places I have Lived

1. Boise, Idaho. I grew up there, as mentioned in another meme. I don't really miss it, but I do miss my childhood home and dream about it a lot.
2. Salem, Oregon. Yep. Not really much to say about that, is there?
3. Tacoma, Washington. A much better place than people imagine it to be, and a much better place to live than to visit. I do miss Tacoma, and its lovely aroma.
4. Ashland, Oregon. Everyone already knows that I currently live in D.C. and before that in Vancouver, B.C. so I thought I'd go for the wild card here. Ashland is lovely and I would live there again - a small town with a lot of culture and character (helped along immensely by the presence of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, which despite being located in southern Oregon is actually quite renowned). I lived there during my freshman year in college.

Four TV Shows I Love

1. Little House on the Prairie
2. Six Feet Under
3. Cold Case Files/American Justice/City Confidential (they are all virtually the same show)
4. Daily Show

Four Places I've Vacationed

1. Bahamas
2. Europe
3. Crater Lake, OR
4. Arizona

Four of My Favorite Dishes

1. Burger and fries
2. Filet mignon
3. Beef stew
4. Pad Thai
(Obviously I am not a vegetarian)

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now

1. Oregon coast
2. Vancouver, B.C.
3. Alaska
4. Iceland

Four Sites I Visit Daily (or thereabouts)

1. Washingtonpost.com
2. Dooce.com
3. Anything Said
4. Go Fug Yourself

UPDATE: So I got my first paycheck today. It was sort of a punch in the gut to realize how much more the government rapes you when you suddenly become a middle-class wage earner. I literally feel as though I have been physically assaulted and forcibly separated from my rightful income. Long story short, I'm not bringing home nearly as much money as I'd counted on and am now contemplating becoming an illegal immigrant worker so that I don't have to pay taxes.*

*I realize this is an insensitive thing to say.

Welcome to my 100th blog post!

This probably wouldn't be a big deal if I updated my blog on a semi-regular basis, and I'm ashamed to say that it's also getting pretty close to my one-year blogiversary. Two things about this are sad: 1) There are 365 days in a year, and I've only just now reached 100 posts, and 2) I just used the term blogiversary.

Anyway. I've now become one of the Orange Line denizens who travels to and from the city every day. I mean, I've always taken the Orange Line to get to work, but I used to work out in the burbs, which meant traveling AWAY from the city. Away from city=pleasant, relaxing ride. Toward city=hellish stench of humanity PEOPLE GET OUT OF MY FACE. For those of you not familiar with the Orange Line, what this means is that you spend 30-40 minutes of your morning and evening squished up against a total stranger(s), usually with one arm sticking out awkardly at various angles so as to grasp any stable object in order to stay upright and avoid falling over onto someone's lap as the train lurches down the tracks. Additionally, taking the Orange Line, as opposed to one of the other many lines that also runs through downtown, means you are riding the most crowded train known to man, and it is probably double the actual recommended safe occupancy of the train. It also means that I spend a good deal of time shoving people out of my way as I attempt to deboard the train, only occasionally muttering, "Excuse me," in an exasperated tone when someone clearly isn't moving aside fast enough to let me through.

All of this puts me in a very bad mood. Last Thursday really took the cake, though. On my way home the trains were delayed, as naturally they would be since I'd had a bad day and all I wanted was to get home, and therefore all the forces of nature did everything in their power to prevent me from achieving this goal. When the next train finally did arrive, the people coming off the train took so freakin' long to deboard that hardly anyone (and there was quite a crowd waiting by that point) could get onto the train before the doors closed. This happened twice - a train would come, people would pour off it in a never-ending stream, and only a handful of those waiting would manage to squeeze their way on before the driver sped off again. What may not be readily apparent is that the driver can actually control when the doors close. So basically, these drivers were just being assholes. As if there isn't enough trauma and strife in the world, we now have to put up with asshole subway train drivers who seem to enjoy making everyone's commute even more hellish than it already is. THANKS A LOT, ASSHOLES.

And since I'm on the subject of things I hate about the subway, how about those people who insist, no matter what you might do to get around them, on getting in your way and doing so in a very SLOOOOW and MEEEEEEAAAAAAAANNNNNNNDERING manner. I'm ashamed to say, I've come dangerously close to physically shoving someone out of my way when all other tactics have failed. Don't even get me started on the toursists who stand on the left side of the escalator like giant, slow-witted cows, looking very pleased with themselves as those of us in a hurry screech to a halt behind them, or those families with five little kids who mystery refuse to ride the elevator and who force their children to stand on the left for the entire length of the escalator, thus ensuring that an angry mob of commuters will clot up behind them and bolt past them in a show of passive-aggressive rudeness once they reach the bottom.

Ah, the joys of riding the subway, they are many. I mean, I do appreciate not having to drive my car to work, but is being transported by cattle-car really the only viable option in a thriving city with some of the best minds in the country? Surely this is something we can work on.

OK, I'm done complaining (for now). I'd like to send you off with this great link. Enjoy.

So now that nobody reads this blog anymore...

Hi there. Sorry I've been gone for so long. I've had writer's block/gag lately, what with being sort of between jobs and then starting a new job at a large and public organization that I don't really feel I can talk about here. Suffice to say, I am at the new job, I started a week ago. It is meh. However, the salary is enough to cover the meh-ness, at least for the amount of time I plan to be at this job (one year). So far I've not been given much more to do than I had at the other job, which once again sets me to wondering what it is about me that attracts the blah, boring positions. Do people look at me and think, "Now here's a girl who can sit and do nothing all day, by golly."

Who knows. The whole switching of the jobs has thrown a crimp into my routine, as normally it would, which is causing me to have anxiety attacks and be miserable in general. Once again I am all in a dither as to what to do about my work-outs, but I just keep hoping that things will fall into place naturally as they did the last time I was in this predicament. And not to turn this into a running blog or anything, but I've actually started running on the treadmill once or twice a week - my new achievement has been to run 3 miles in one session, stopping only for water. I realize this is generally a trifle for anyone who has functioning legs, but I am bad at running and therefore this is a triumph for me. And luckily I don't have to worry about boring anyone with the details of my workout routines, since my 2.5 readers long ago abandoned me. It's freeing, actually.

What else? I'm currently reading Made in America by Bill Bryson, which unfortunately isn't one of his better works. But still interesting. The book is purportedly about how American English evolved into what it is, but is actually more of a combination of popular American history and a Lies My Teacher Told Me sort of thing. It's good, just not what I expected it to be. My work station at the new job is right next to the Popular Reading section, so I expect to be keeping them in business. Or whatever.

Well, it's coming up to my bedtime so I guess I'll bid you all (meaning no one) a good evening. Adieu.

Happy Canada Day!

Well, I started this post a few days ago, but since I haven't finished it yet and since today is Canada Day, it is now the official Canada Day Post. BF and I mosied on down to the Canadian Embassy this morning for their Canada Day pancake feed - this year's theme was the Calgary Stampede, so it was country-music-a-go-go. We didn't stay very long because, alas, the line for pancakes was never-ending--we never did actually find the end of it--and we were starving, having traveled in the heat of the morning to get there. But still, it was nice to be among Canadians and fans of Canada once again.

And now, since it's officially summer, and since I haven't bored you with a list for at least three posts, it's summer reading list time! Hurray! It's also I Don't Have Anything Interesting to Write About Time! Hurray!

These are the books that I think are good beach reads, and there will probably be nothing other than that concept to thematically link them. I haven't really thought that far ahead, so I don't know, we'll see what I come up with. (Incidentally, you know what movie I love? High Fidelity. The sheer number of lists alone is enough to make me drool, and then you add in John Cusack? Plus Jack Black? Love.) Anyway.

Good Summer Reads

1) Bag of Bones by Stephen King. I love to read horrors in the middle of a bright, sunny summer afternoon. This one is particularly well-suited for a summer read because it's set in the summer (if I remember correctly) and because it's not your typical Stephen King demons-and-possessed cars book. It's more creepy than outright scary, and believe me, after awhile it will creep you out. I can't remember all of the plot, but I know it revolves around racism, jazz, and Maine. It evokes the movie Skeleton Key in my mind for some reason.

2) To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Again, much of it is set in the summer--hot, sticky southern summers--and there's just something about summertime that makes me ultra-nostalgic for childhood. Which is of course what this book is about, in part - the innocence of childhood.

3) Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. A nice, light summer read. Bryson has a great sense of humor and writes with a very light touch, but isn't shallow. This one is about his efforts to hike the Appalachian trail with an old friend who maybe isn't in the greatest of shape and maybe doesn't quite have his life together.

4) Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. It's about people who get together and read Jane Austen books and look to them for inspiration in their love lives. Light, breezy, perfect to read in like two sittings.

5) Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. Funny yet pointless little essays. If you haven't read the one about the Macy's elf you will pee you pants from the humor of it all. Just read it.

Extra Bonus - My Picks for Top Summer Movies

1) Wet Hot American Summer - Parody of all those '80s teen summer movies. Quite funny and dead-on.

2) Scream - The horror thing again.

3) Top Gun - Only applies if you are a heterosexual woman (and Tom Cruise is really wearing out his welcome - may have to rethink this one...)

4) Walking and Talking - Good indie movie with Liev Schreiber, Catherine Keener before she was famous, and Anne Heche. Actually, I don't think any of them were famous yet, but it's such a great depiction of people just being friends.

5) Swimming Pool - British film starring Charlotte Rampling and some French actress whom BF informs me is Very Hot. You think it's gonna be all stuffy and boring, and then it turns dark and mysterious. I love the mystery and the darkness, what can I say.

Welcome to The Misanthrope, where it's Boring Vacation Photo Day

This is me at Titlow Beach in Tacoma. In the background you might be able to faintly see the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.

This is Crater Lake, supposedly the deepest and bluest lake in the United States.

Ditto.

The Oregon Coast.

By the way, you may have noticed that I changed the name of the blog - I'm not sure yet if I'll change the URL, but for now it will stay the same.

The big news

So guess what. I'm going to have to change the name of the blog, because I am no longer either unemployed or underemployed. Yep, you inferred that correctly. I got an offer from the place where I had a really good interview, didn't hear back for two months, got a vaguely worded email asking if I was still interested, didn't hear back for another month, and then BOOM, last week I got an official offer. Though this place isn't my first choice as far as type of library, location and work environment, at least its something. Of course, I have my theories that this job offer is life's little way of whispering in my ear: You thought you had problems when you were poor? How about hating your job and living in dread of going to work every morning? Not that I'm gonna hate it, but I'm just saying. The universe likes to teach me funny little lessons like this. (That's just my pessimism rearing its ugly head - pay it no attention.)

But never fear, oh my vast readership - I shall continue writing the blog for as long as I can think of anything vaguely amusing to say, and probably way after that, too. In fact, I may have reached that point already.

In other news, I'm still on vacation in the Northwest and am actually blogging from the Oregon Coast right this minute. And all I have to say about this whole week is: If I had not just gotten a good job offer, there's no way in hell I would getting back on that plane to D.C. It's going to rip my heart out to leave as it is, and I feel wrenching pangs of remorse that I did not more fully appreciate the natural beauty and down-to-earthness of this place while I had the opportunity to partake of it. And now I swear this oath, Never Again! I bow to you, O Grand Pacific Northwest! Take me back unto your bosom of plenty! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase!

Alas, it is not to be this trip. Perhaps someday soon...

P.S. Stay tuned for photos.
P.S.S. It was great to see my friends in Seattle - I miss you and I wish we could see each other more often! Soon, soon, my pretties.