To be satisfied.

I am a librarian in a what I commonly and angrily refer to as a 'shit town'. It's small and everyone knows your name here in a very Cheers'-like manner. This has its pleasant quirks, such as when old ladies bring us pie to have their fines cleared. Or when I have the opportunity to wander the stacks while holding a baby I am unrelated to.

However, we can't put up a Black History Month display because the openly racist will complain to us and their quietly racist children will deface it when we are not looking. Actually, their children will deface anything we put in front of them, racist or not. The vast majority of our patrons hold no respect for education, and our high school drop-out rate here is apparently appalling and at the same time considered normal. They come and sit on our computers for hours, alternating between Facebook and...well, still Facebook. They steal our DVDs and and sell our books at the flea market, they overflow our toilets and smile without shame as they walk out of the restroom.

It can be...frustrating.

I enjoy my work around 70% of the time though. I think this is a good percentage for any job. I am fond of the tweens in my youth programs and I feel they are fond of me. More importantly, I feel like I am doing something. I don't think they hate me, as I did in the first weeks when I flatly refused to let them choose Captain Underpants or Twilight for Book Club or when I tell them not to parrot their parent's opinions to me. When we hold group discussions over topics they've never thought of before, or at least not openly, I smile to myself and feel like a difference is being made. I feel like I am corrupting them in the best way possible.

I may make an hour commute five days a week for just above minimum wage, but this feeling that I could open any kind of door for one kid here is definitely worth something. For this I am grateful of my Humanities degree. I may never pursue graduate school or leave the Tri-State, even though I still feel shame and yearning whenever I hear my friends mention it or when old professors ask me of my plans. The idea of not continuing my education, my base of knowledge is a tragedy to me. But so is the idea of doing something that lacks this sensation I get now in my youth programs. This 'shit town' may kill me, but I'd rather it be me the irate librarian than any kid that has the chance to really escape the area and create a life that doesn't resort to stealing DVDs or trying to sell drugs in the bathroom.

I just hope I can be satisfied with whatever the future holds.

-K

Twelve Angry Kays Reflect

If possible, listen to the entire 20th Century Master’s collection for The Temptations before you begin.

I should be writing for nameorhymeo….Which, I understand is not what National Novel Writing Month is called, but I, quietly frankly, could not give more of a shit about it. I have no urge to put forth a novel. I wanted to try to push myself into a genre beyond my normal nonfictional critique, but I can’t even handle actively working with my normal writing style for more than a few sentences at the moment. It’s not that am so satisfied with reality that I simply cannot immerse myself into some fictional dreamland, nor is that I am afraid to fail miserably. I wouldn’t mind failing miserably, I do it so often now that it has become the norm. No, I just really don’t want anything to do with fiction. Building plot makes me feel sticky.

I should be writing for the Herald-Dispatch book reviews. As western counties librarian this is a requirement. A requirement that rarely anyone actually fills, but I unfortunately am mistaken by the editor of these reviews as a newly emerging gal pal. Even more unfortunately, whenever I sit down to contemplate formulating a direct and simplistic 400-word book review, my throat closes and the backs of my knees become coated in sweat. My neck muscles tighten and my eyelids twitch. I hear humming that I can’t quite place. It’s very strange and eerily similar to when I would try to produce anything of quality before I dropped out of college (and returned a semester later in a glorious haze of determined mediocrity).

The oddest part (besides the fact that I have a Bachelor’s degree and am having trouble producing something that is, at best, set for the 8th grade reading level) is the book I’m actually reviewing I love in it’s entirely and can gab about said book for great lengths in the backroom to my coworkers who by now tune me out. It’s the first of the five part steampunk/paranormal series by Gail Carriger titled, Soulless, and it is shiteat amazing. ‘Shiteat’, of course, is my filler term as I am trying to not take certain dieties’ names in vain quite so much and I am too lazy to find another word. ‘Shiteat’ is also me foolishly playing around with the descriptor, ‘a shit-eating grin’.

I happen to find the book fantastic for several reasons I doubt will be put in print, which might be my problem. I am also reading at the same time A Cook’s Tour by Anthony Bourdain and Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (And Other Concerns)? by Mindy Kaling. Both of these books also hold unparalled greatness for wildy different reasons. I wonder if I can switch titles this late in the game?

It’s the same issue as before, however. I do not, ever, feel like I need to be writing a formal review for anything. Much less a short one where I can’t use my own lexicon and standard level of inappropriateness. Much like I feel enraged after briefly considering targeting my body image to something more loveable or attractive to current standards, I too am obstinate when it comes to writing bullshit fluff (aside from this narcissistic blogging habit, of course). Given how I show throat almost every passing moment of the day, I am weirdly adamant when it comes to writing or eating or painting or oftentimes saying whatever the hell I want.

I could easily go on for the rest of the twelve things I should be up to at this moment, as I considered. Things I need to get done go much numerically farther than twelve though. Especially if you throw my laundry and taking out of the bathroom trash in the mix. I have done what I have intended to do here. I came, I pressed my meaty fingers up and down against the keyboard, I blew off some steam so I can more productively go back to the real world. Marcus Aurelius would be so proud (not true).



Until later,

K

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.

-Douglas Adams

I have been saying since before graduation that the first chance I could get, I would escape from the tri-state area and head somewhere most likely north. My eyes were on Vermont, but I would have really taken anywhere.

Here I sit almost four months after graduation, alternating between planning the layout of my apartment and going over the details of the retirement plan with my full-time position in “A Town Known for Its Adult Superstore”, WV.

By “planning” I mean “eating leftovers from Chili’s and listening to Queens of the Stone Age”. I love me some Josh Homme.

I did not expect this whatsoever. I kind of love it.

I may still be only thirty minutes from H-town and an hour from Ashland, but it is a different dimension for sure. Milton is small, sleepy, and possibly full of magic. The library is the epicenter of all activity, across the street from a town hall roughly the size of my parents’ house and right behind an amazing antique store, post office, adorable park, tanapas restaurant, and a Chinese buffet that I will soon be living above.

My life is different as well. I dress business casual five days a week and at least twice a week I wear a skirt. I’m in a knitting group [trust me, you’ll see the evidence soon enough], I am constantly in make-up, I know way too much about paperback romances, and I rarely screech explicatives in public. While I enjoy the breeze the skirts provide, I still feel like a disgruntled and un-showered undergraduate disguised as a librarian.

I guess no one can play the angry philosophy student forever. That shit don’t pay the bills. I think I’ve settled for the time being with the path I am on currently in Milton. I canceled my test date for the new G.R.E , haven't looked at grad schools, and I haven’t finished a book in months. Actually, I have not had an academic discussion in months. It bothers me a bit, but only briefly and then it floats to the back of my head where my diet plans and conscience resides.

I do not want it to sound like I am unhappy. I am not. I love my job. I love what Milton is giving me. I am extremely excited for the West Virginia Librarians Association convention I am going to in October [I’m going to be on the Preservation and Social Responsibility panels!]. I just don’t know if it’s enough.

Will I wake up ten years from now, still there with my B.A. and uncanny ability to know exactly what Inspirational Romantic Suspense author is appropriate for a patron? Will I advance to a M.A. in Library Science and take pride in my children’s programs and the social change literacy will bring to the poverty-stricken in the future [I like to make predictions about this at work]? Will my non-English speaking landlords get deported and I lose my apartment?

Will I finally get to house-train a puppy? Or a human child?

Or will I eventually pursue a PhD in Humanities and have actual pride in myself?

I have no idea.

What I do know is, it has been waaaaaaay too long since I last blogged. I haven’t taken this long of a break since I gave up Xanga in 2007. Sheeeeet. How do non-bloggers attempt introspection anyway?

-Kayla



This post brought to you by:

Turning on the Screw – Queens of the Stone Age
He’s Just Not That Into You
No Reservations
The Geisha Cosmo at Taste of Asia
Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Pt.2
Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestess in Brooklin
memebase.com
This Picture:

Snapshots in Place of Thought

Happy Earth Day! I made a terrarium! Sorta!

Yes, that is a fishbowl.

And my bed!

If this was the only image you had to judge someone on, what would you conclude? How old could someone be to mix space and Teletubbies pillowcases with a tasteful quilt? Maybe they have kids, or are kids themselves. Maybe they get hipster-ish kicks out of nostalgia. Maybe they genuinely love Teletubbies. And space.

I love Teletubbies.

School is winding down in a horrifyingly fast and action-packed manner. I’m remaining relatively calm, however. I have even taken up paper-avoidance bowling:

The Supreme Court edition!

This is mostly due to taking shots of NyQuil around 10 pm each night, unless it’s Thursday and I’m drinking with the Powell Enthusiast Association (a personal spin on your standard philosophy club). The NyQuil is not as much a sign of instability as it is me refusing to tolerate allergies in the middle of the night. If you want a sign of instability, you should look in my purse for the pack of sweet, sweet cigarillos.

I’m not twitching too much over the end of school; I prefer to follow the Han Solo method for handling stress:

Harrison Ford, you are an eternal badass. Anyone who says otherwise is a jealous Mark Hamill. Evidence:

see more Gifs

I can't really follow that up with anything.

-K

This post’s theme song: E.T. – Katy Perry

I know, I know. Blame 100.5 FM and my easily swayed ears. If it's any consolation, I still am not a fan of her or her constantly spewing tits.

Moods & Motivations

As with most dweebs trying to distract themselves from all the work they must do in under a month, I'm really excited about a potential project I'm working on the side (see:front). This is due to my recent exposure to the wonderful world of ethnography.

My target: Westboro Baptist Church

Instead of my normal rage induced by their actions, I am really very curious of the motivation for these tactics. By having the Clifford Geertz definition of religion,

“1) a system of symbols which acts to 2) establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by 3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and 4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that 5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic,”

pounded into my head by Clay, I can't look at the images of their protests without wondering what goes on within their Church when not protesting.

They look so calm and happy, articulate even. I just started following Fred Phelp's daughter on twitter, and I've been reading their court documents that have been published online. I want to understand the system and what the purpose of their actions are. The direct assault on outsiders' sense of tact and political correctness causes direct emotional distress, this is true. It is a direct challenge to our secularized society, demanding for introspection. The introspection is what I find interesting.

Most people see their signs and become enraged, but put no more thought into it other than saying how much WBC is wrong. How far are they (WBC) off target though? We have always had a sense that our modern society is crumbling, haven't we?

locus de saeculo is a timeless concept not foreign to the secular. The environment, political corruption, childhood obesity, it can be used with any topic. Everyday is worse than the last, the world is going to shit, back in the day...we've all heard it and probably agreed to it at some point. Doesn't it seem that WBC is merely suggesting the same?

Think also of our secular concept of responsibility. If we are responsible for our actions, then we are responsible for the suffering of society and the suffering of ourselves. I myself have argued this before. Instead of focusing on the ecological structure of causes and effects, Westboro suggests that our worldly problems are punishment by God for letting modern society succumb to a wasteland devoid of virtue. This isn't that different from most religions that believe in direct interactions with the infinite.

As for their tactics, they have been proven time and again as legally peaceful, yet they are horrifying to us. When the Buddhist set himself on fire in protest, were we not horrified and bewildered by his actions? Their message blindly enrages us; but perhaps only because we are outsiders that don't understand their purpose or worldview. Was much of our society not enraged at women's suffrage or the ideas of communism or even the protests to end segregation? How was America's rage then different from our rage now?

Are the followers of Westboro simply wrong and if so, what justification do we have to say so?

I have neither idea, nor real opinion. One thing is for sure though, I am totes not doing my homework.

-K

Much a Post About Nothing

Okay, normally I'm all on my high horse over how very shitty and unrealistic and shallow romantic comedies are. Then I usually cry into a pint of ice cream while watching six hours of Pride & Prejudice at KT's Mom's house in the dark with Gonzington. However, this particular romantic comedy has Emma Stone in it. That is a game changer. Steve Carell is also present. As is Ryan Gosling, whose behavior is suspiciously reminiscent of the Situation. Anyway, I found this over at Splitsider and am now forcing it upon you.

In other news, I want to be sleeping. I want sleep right now. RIGHT NOW. Also, Your Highness comes out tomorrow and that is exciting. I also love Danny McBride. He licks Natalie Portman. I am also fond of licking people.

Not much else is going on in life. I'm doing spring girl-shopping on the side and have grown very fond of ridiculously bright shades of eyeliner and patterned headbands. School has been busy, what with there only being a month left before graduation and I have one hundred bafrooms/papers to write before then. Seriously, the total is around fifty-two pages of text. Double-spaced pages, yes, but I also have exams. Obviously I'm working hard everyday to write them. You know me, totes an over-achiever (this is a lie). Family stuff is consistently full of those normal wacky, emotionally damaging hijinks. I want to take Alisha with me when I move out and raise her as my own. That kid is going places (most likely juvie).

Aaaaanywhooo, I'm going to go browse the Craigslist 'free' section (and secretly the personals for humorous dick pics) and maybe take a shot of Nyquil. I need to sleep a minimum of four fours so I don't pass out during Spamalot tonight. Yeah, I'm going to see a Monty Python musical. U Jelly?

Picture is unrelated (and from the Superficial):

Oh, Dave Grohl. How I adore you.

-K

This post's theme song: Who Needs Sleep? - Barenaked Ladies

Innovation while in a dirty bathrobe!

Because my floor is shaking with the echoing screams from the basketball fans downstairs, I am compelled to share this graph that perfectly depicts my sentiments on the sport:

Thanks, graphjam.

In other news:

You are about to be introduced to straight-up magic. I present to you, The Instant No Bake Cookie, alternatively titled: The Instant Weight Gain!

For those of us who simply don’t have the time to stand erect for more than two minutes. Simply take the mouthwatering-on-its-own Dark Chocolate Dreams peanut butter from Peanut Butter & Co and spread liberally on an oatmeal cream pie (please ignore that dust I am now calling attention to):

It also goes well with:

and

Now, that is what I call dinner/adult onset diabetes.

Speaking of dinner, there is a fresh-produce store called Kiki’s within walking distance of my house that I am really excited about. I purchased the pictured strawberries there the other day with some grapes and this horrifyingly large Peruvian sweet onion that I peeled as soon as I got home and munched some of it raw. The fact that there was a time that I hated onions disturbs me. This place also sells milk and eggs and smells amazing. I may never go to an actual grocery again while living in Ashland. I can (but most likely won’t) walk to Kiki’s for produce and hit the Clark’s revamped BP on the way home because it now sells everything (as in you can get raw Ribeye at a gas station), including their own line of homemade burgers (the one called the Big Texan intrigues me).

After spending my entire post-pubescent life complaining about how worthless and boring the tri-state is, I’m currently making attempts to debunk that claim. This change in mood was motivated by coming upon Fall 2010’s Tri-State Living at Saroch’s. While it did unfortunately hold a healthy amount of bullshit, the store and restaurant guides were interesting. For instance, I had no idea that the 4th avenue restaurant, Prime, even existed. Now I want nothing more to spend all of my cash there immediately. It sounds amazing (as does the 3rd & 9th Deli).

Since I’m full on food-gasming on this post I might as well share my new favorite go-to food that doesn’t revolve around chocolate spreads or cream cheese pizzas (though, omg, I love cream cheese for everything ever). Aaaannnyway, I have been obsessively making caprese grilled cheese sandwiches like nobody’s business. Which, I should be honest here and say that I do not have an unlimited supply of sliced mozzarella or fancy bread. What I’ve really been making is a strange whatever-I-can-find-french-toast hybrid sandwich monster that usually ends up edible. Normal butter grilling method, you are dead to me.

And I am now starving. We out.

-K

This post’s theme song: Boots & Boys – Ke$ha