You need some Rilke.

Last night I once again took a book off the shelf, and read the passage that was perfect timing for me. If only I could do this with such accuracy with other people -- it would bode well for my library career. Here it is. The part about "our own terrors" echoes What the Bleep do we Know a little bit...I think so, anyway.

"Only he who can expect anything, who does not exclude even the mysterious, will have a relationship to life greater than just being alive; he will exhaust his own wellspring of being.
...
We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. If it has terrors, they are our own terrors. If it has precipices, they belong to us. If dangers are present, we must try to love them. And if we fashion our life according to that principle, which advises us to embrace that which is difficult, then that which appears to us to be the very strangest will become the most worthy of our trust, and the truest."

-Rainier Maria Rilke, from Letters to a Young Poet
(copyright New World Library, 2000)

Signs of green

Just a quick post, I'm afraid. This semester has swallowed weeks whole before I can turn my head, and I've been intensely stressed about it at moments. But after an alcohol-accompanied viewing of Happy Endings with my friend Ryan last night, and a return to the well-intentioned New Year's resolution of meditation, I'm a little less psycho.

Also. Apparently in Boston, Saint Patrick's Day lasts the whole weekend. I went up to Davis Square today, and the T was packed both ways, with people who were dressed in various stages of green, and/or clearly racking up consecutive hours of intoxication. I was standing in the snow and ice of the square waiting for my friend, and noticed a lot of other people standing around, even though it was very cold; then I noticed Holland Street was closed. And then all of a sudden: a huge mass of runners, most of them in green, just appeared: no preliminary sound or anything. The people standing around were cheering them on, and I guess I'm writing about it because I happened to be somewhere at the exact moment something happened, something I never would have known about otherwise (apparently, the Ras na hEireann USA).

Couple this with the bushes and trees that were tentatively blooming last week (before the six inches of snow), and basically, they equal the light at the end of (or along) the tunnel for me. I always think of the Richard Wilbur poem "Winter Spring" in this interim, and I love the last two lines, so I'll post it. I'm not sure what book it's from, otherwise I'd give that credit. (p.s. Speaking of poetry, as a preview to National Poetry Month, check out the Academy of American Poets' poster here. And yes, it took me forever to see the shape.)

Winter Spring

A script of trees before the hill
Spells cold, with laden serifs; all the walls
Are battlemented still;
But winter spring is winnowing the air
Of chill, and crawls
Wet-sparkling on the gutters;
Everywhere
Walls wince, and there’s the steal of waters.

Now all this proud royaume
Is Veniced. Through the drift’s mined dome
One sees the rowdy rusted grass,
And we’re amazed as windows stricken bright.
This too-soon spring will pass
Perhaps tonight,
And doubtless it is dangerous to love
This somersault of seasons;
But I am weary of
The winter way of loving things for reasons.

Our show today has two acts:

Act One: This American Life Live, the Boston Opera House, tonight, with my friends A and B. I'm not trying to make you jealous. (Well, maybe a little bit.) It's just that there are few things I love so completely as this show. It's so fucking well-done I sometimes cry. (As, apparently, Ira Glass did at the last episode of The OC. He and his wife sing along to the theme song. As if I weren't in love already.) Now they're coming out with a TV show on Showtime, and if the previews/excerpts/hilarious outtake of Ira Glass nodding are any indication, it's going to be just as beautiful.

Also, this was said by one of the contributors: "If friends were easy to take and made you feel good, they wouldn't be called friends. They'd be called drugs." Plus there was Joe, a kid from Western Mass. who doesn't believe in love, except maybe if his relationship were based around fighting monsters.

Oh, and Sarah Vowell and Dan Savage were there, too. Okay, now I'm just trying to make you jealous.

Act Two: "Book Meme"

It seems only fitting that the blogger of A Room Full of Books should post this, from Into the Wardrobe. AW is a reader I didn't even know I had, but now I know who AW is, and I will be reading ITW from now on as well. Anyway, here it is. And before you glaze over the list, let me just say: A Room Full of Books is distributed by Blogger, produced by Elizabeth, and funded by the federal government (via student loans), and readers like you.


Look at the list of books below. Bold the ones you’ve read, italicize the ones you want to read, cross out the ones you won’t touch with a 10 foot pole, put a cross (+) in front of the ones on your book shelf (I'm taking multiple crosses to mean multiple editions), and asterisk (*) the ones you’ve never heard of.

(AW added “indifference” as a category by not marking some at all). (And I don't know how to cross things out, so I'm going to put an "x" on either side of the title.)

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
+2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
+3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
+8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) *
+11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
x12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)x
+13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
+16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)*
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling)
+20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
+22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
+23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
+25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
x30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)x
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
x32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)x
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
+34. 1984 (Orwell)
+35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
x36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)x
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)*
+38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
+42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
x43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)x
x44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)x
45. Bible (bolding the amount I think I've read)
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
+48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
+50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
+51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
+53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
+54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
+55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)*
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
+59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
+60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger) (extra bold for obsession)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) (Okay, I want to read one of the Ayn Rand books, for educational purposes. But not both.)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
x64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)x
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davies)*
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
+70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
x71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)x
+72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
+75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)*
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)*
+80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)*
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
+84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
+++85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)*
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)*
+92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
x95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)x
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford) *
x99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)x
x100. Ulysses (James Joyce)x (Yes, I can pick both options for this book.)

Freezing and forgetting...and controlled vocabularies

"And February was so long that it lasted into March,
and found us walking a path, alone, together.
You stopped and pointed and you said, 'That's a crocus,'
and I said, 'What's a crocus?'
and you said, 'It's a flower.'
I tried to remember, but I said, 'What's a flower?'
You said, 'I still love you.'"
-Dar Williams, "February"

I couldn't let this month end without quoting from this song. A lot of people hate February, and I have to say, I kind of agree with them this year. It's not that good things didn't happen. But I did have this sense of frozen slumber that Dar sings about. And I'm not just talking about - in the literal sense - the vicious ice storm that got slapped on Boston, and all the sleeping in I've been doing. I forgot things that I'm trying to wake up and make myself remember; for example, that the conventional ways of love are (most likely) not going to do it for me. That is, the whole dating, small talk, straightforwardly romantic approach. I've been underestimating love lately, its complexity and possibility. (Although Kahlil Gibran was trying to help me out earlier in the month.) As far as possibility goes, I'm glad I watched What the Bleep do we Know? this weekend. I'm not sure how much of that theory of the universe, consciousness, and autonomy I completely buy into, but it's fascinating to think about.

On another note, my favorite class by far this semester is The Organization of Information, aka cataloging. In college, I wrote this paper for a linguistics class on how the Dewey Decimal System was a constructed language/grammar/or something (it was underdeveloped). But I think that's why I love the structured ways librarians have organized and can search for information: my love of grammar is resurging. That analytical part of my brain I don't tap into often enough is putting on her glasses, sharpening her pencils, and is ready to bust out of the cortex where she's been hanging around. Hopefully, I'll have more time later to delve into cataloging, and into my archives internship, during which I get to hang around the papers of Samuel Beckett, Seamus Heaney, Gerard Manley Hopkins, and other brilliant minds.

Belated book report

I did read before the semester started. Not as much as I would have liked, but it was a good opportunity to give Only Revolutions by Mark Z. Danielewski the attention it demands. Look, I even feel compelled to stick to the color schemes of the text - and I've messed up my usual text color in the process. I read his House of Leaves last year, which nests narrative inside narrative; this book has two narrators, Sam and Hailey. They each begin speaking from a different end of the book, so that there are two sections of print, one upright and one upside-down (depending on how you look at it). The recommended way to read it is eight pages at a time, alternating Sam and Hailey. Their stories dovetail in many ways, both in page number and on each physical page. Sam's Os are green; Hailey's are gold.

I was frustrated at times that none of this actually means anything, that Danielewski was just trying to make me look at the text as text without anything behind it. But that's not accurate, I don't think. The reader just has to work much harder than usual--although it helps that, like House of Leaves, there is a forum of readers that discuss OR's various mysteries (some a trifle obsessively). For example, there's the stilted language. He's clearly drawing from some kind of word- or alphabet-based dictionary that only allows him to use words or letters a certain number of times. It's like a giant poem in that way; part of the point of writing it is the test of what you can accomplish with constraints. The word "or" is important - it's the initials of the title, it's always in bold, and the programming symbol for "or" appears on the spine.

Anyway - I realize this is getting a little into detail for those who haven't read it. There are rewards to it, even for the non-obsessed reader. Even though the language is odd, it's beautiful. It's easy to see that all the Os represent eternity, rings, circles, etc. (Each story has 360 pages; the two characters are most synchronized around page 180.) It's an epic about the history of the United States - anytime the characters say "us," it's capitalized. And most of all, it's a love story that acknowledges (and yet still fights against) the ultimate constraint of time. (Sam's story runs from 1863-1963, Hailey's from 1963-2063.) If you yourself have time...and patience...and you know what you're getting yourself into, I highly recommend it.

Three more recommendations now, of a more amusing nature. First, if I haven't bugged you about it in person yet, the TV show Veronica Mars. I'm almost done watching the second season (the third season is on the air right now on the CW). It's witty, and gripping, and even those not as gullible as I are prone to being surprised at the plot twists -- though not in an unfair way. There are always clues available to you, and you will wonder afterwards why you didn't see them. Oh yeah, it's because the writing is really good. I want to thank Amy and Ryan publicly for sucking me in.

Second: as Clare mentioned in her blog, Mountain Man Dance Moves: the McSweeney's Book of Lists, which I was lucky enough to come across randomly in the Strand when I was in New York two weeks ago. Many of the lists, for no reason, have to do with unicorns. An abbreviated example:

Song Titles, Before Editing for Efficiency and Clarity
"It is Impossible for You, or Anyone Else for That Matter, to Purchase Love for or from Me"
"Hey, What's Up? It's London"
"Baby, You Hit Me Once, and When You Did, All I Could Think Was That I Would Relish Your Doing It Once More"
(pp. 88-89)


Third: Hipster Haiku by Siobhan Adcock. I saw this book and simply had to own it. (Student loans? Eating? Pshaw.) I'll give you a short selection, and you'll want it too. Youll see.

Writ on my tombstone:
"Never bought a Greatest Hits
compilation disc"
(p. 43)

Why are you dancing?
Just stare gravely at the band
Act appropriate
(p. 57)

Hand-rolled cigarettes
You call everything "po-mo"
I think I love you
(p. 7)

Laying waste the garden

I promise, I'll have a good book-related post soon. I'll write about the crazy book I read before the semester started, and about the semester itself. (I know you're going to find the organization of information just as fascinating as I do.)

And this is about a book. I have these three non-school books sitting next to my bed with accusing bookmarks pointing out of them: The Second Sex (which I was supposed to finish in January), Fiasco by Thomas E. Ricks (which has been there since September), and One Art, the letters of Elizabeth Bishop. But last night before I went to bed, I took something newly acquired off the shelf, and was rewarded with a timely passage. A couple of weeks ago, I was early meeting a friend in Central Square, and stopped into this used bookstore called Rodney's. There was this lovely copy of Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet, which I've never read, for $7.50, so I bought it. This prophet is about to leave a city where he's been living and go back to the land he came from, and the people in the city ask him to speak of different subjects before he goes. The first he talks about is love. You know, that day with the sugar and the hearts and stuff is tomorrow, and these words seem to me as appropriate a counter-remedy as any: to be grateful for love in its various forms, and not whine about the parts of it that hurt.

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
...
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love....
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

The Boston coffee shop post

Anyone who knows me knows that a good local coffee shop is fairly essential to my well-being. It's somewhere to meet my friends or to write papers and poems; somewhere that I can sit for hours without being rushed out, whether with or without people. And then, of course, there's the coffee itself. Pastries/other food are another consideration, but I consider them more of a bonus. The point of all this is, I've now frequented a number of coffee shops in the greater Boston area, and I'd like to offer a short, unscientific rundown of them, now that you know my criteria. If anyone has any suggestions for me, please offer them. I've mostly stuck to what's fairly near to where I and people I know live. I hope it's helpful in some way to someone....

1. Diesel Cafe - 257 Elm St., Somerville (Davis Square)
I've never really been one to worry about whether I blend in with the crowd at a place, so I don't care that at Diesel, I'm often the only non-tattooed one there. I like their coffee a lot - I think they brew Intellegentsia, and they foam soy milk better than anywhere I've ever been. The sandwiches and pastries are a little overpriced, but good, with lots of vegetarian items. I don't think I would go here to write a paper, since it's kind of a trek for me to take my laptop, and I'd have to pay to distract myself on Facebook.

finding a space: not that hard - lots of tables, probably the most on this list
outlet situation: I haven't noticed, actually, but fewer computers here than other places
wireless: you have to pay
bonus goodness: pool tables, photo booth, random vintage typewriter

2. Espresso Royale - 286 Newbury St., Boston (near Newbury Comics)
I wrote a paper here one afternoon, but I was lucky to find the space/outlet. There was a line there the entire time, of people ranging from students to people who'd clearly just shopped at the Armani store. They also ran out of bagels, and a couple of other things, fairly early in the day. Definitely not for the claustrophobic, but once you're settled in, it's not that bad. And oh, right, the coffee. Their espresso has this slightly burnt quality that I happen to like, but others may not. Also, there's an excellent tea selection.

finding a space: quite difficult, since it's tiny, but people generally seemed willing to share/be accommodating
outlet situation: basically one power strip that everyone uses and then they trip over everyone else's cords
wireless: they technically don't have it, but there are plenty of local networks
music: The baristas have good taste. They were playing the White Album and there was a mutiny to skip "Piggies."

3. Espresso Royale - 44 Gainsborough St., Boston (near Symphony Hall)
Obviously a lot of things carry over from the other ER - bagels, tea, coffee. This one is about...oh, five times the size? It was busy, but my friend and I had no trouble finding a table (with C. Montgomery Burns painted on it!). It's in a lovely old building with tall ceilings and lots of tables/chairs of varying size, and the customers are mostly NEC, Berklee, and Northeastern students and their skeptical-looking parents.

finding a space: no problem
outlet situation: I meant to check it out and didn't, but lots of tables against the wall
wireless: okay, seriously not doing my research well...I'm not sure
employees: I have to say, I love when the barista types aren't snobby, but instead are quick with a smart joke and dance (well) to Prince. (The Police was also on at some point.)

4. Trident Booksellers & Cafe - 338 Newbury St., Boston (near Newbury Comics, but the other way)
This isn't as much a coffee shop as a breakfast/lunch place, but I sat for about an hour and a half at a table one afternoon doing homework, and over the course of that time I ordered a cup of coffee and a bagel & cream cheese, and they didn't seem to mind - though it was mid-afternoon and a little slow. You can always sit at the bar; it seems less conspicuous. The coffee is average - that's not really an insult, but it's not fabulous either. Plus they don't have skim or soy milk, so I avoid the lattes, etc. Oh right, and there is one bathroom and it's far away from the restaurant part, and always has a line.

finding a space: depends on the time - I wouldn't recommend going during lunch unless you're actually going to have lunch
outlet situation: nonexistent
wireless: also, I think, nonexistent - but it's close enough to Espresso Royale that you could probably get onto one of those networks
in other news: the bookstore itself is fantastic - the best sale table around, great periodicals, etc.

5. 1369 Coffee House - 757 Massachusetts Ave., Cambridge (Central Square)
Good espresso, really good foam, and really really good cheesecake. That's enough for me, but I'll add that the place was...I guess cozy is the word. Red walls, interesting art, good lighting. They also had a lot of non-coffee drinks, like hot cranberry cider. It was quiet - people were talking quietly or reading, as opposed to the Symphony Espresso Royale, which was full of energy.

finding a space: pretty easy; there are probably twenty tables, maybe? (I'm so bad at estimating)
outlet situation: seemed good, lots of people with computers and lots of tables against the wall
wireless: again, I think so, but don't take my word for it...why did I make these little categories?
bonus goodness: They make that leaf shape in the foam - I love that. Plus, two used bookstores reside between the Central T stop and 1369.

6. Mr. Crepe - intersection of Elm St., College Ave., and Holland St., Somerville (Davis Square)
This is brand new, but apparently there is/used to be one somewhere else in the Boston area. I went there on a Saturday afternoon, drawn by the sign on the wall that said "Serving Rao's coffee." I went to college in the Pioneer Valley, and spent much of my waking life at Rao's in Amherst. When I got my latte, I almost cried because it tasted exactly the same - Rao's, also, has a slightly burnt taste to their espresso, but it was worth the nostalgia. It started out calm, and eventually filled up - it's kind of a high-traffic area. We had a strawberry-and-Nutella crepe, and it was really good, and not bad price-wise. Lots of good teas, too.

finding a space: easy when we got there; packed when we left - not cramped, though
outlet situation: pretty good; probably about half the tables have access
wireless: maybe?
parking yourself: I did see one table there for the long haul, but it seemed like most people came, ate crepes, and left.

With apologies to Barack Obama

There's one word that keeps popping up in my life lately; for example, in two of the CDs I got for Christmas: Love Loss Hope Repeat and Begin to Hope. Then today, I spent the afternoon on the second floor of the MFA, and came across the painting at left - Hope by Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones.

Then, of course, there's Barack Obama's new book, the title of which I appreciate. It is a very audacious thing to look at the world honestly, and still hope. So of course, I'm paying homage to the idea by...titling a mix CD after it. Here' s the playlist.

The Audacity of Hope

1. Ciega, Sordomuda - Shakira
2. Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley
3. February - Dar Williams
4. Hotel Song - Regina Spektor
5. Speechless - Girlyman
6. Love Loss Hope Repeat - Carbon Leaf
7. The Hard Way - Michelle Shocked
8. Troubled Times - Fountains of Wayne
9. Life is Sweet - Maria McKee
10. Easy People - the Nields
11. On the Radio - Regina Spektor
12. I Like It - Dixie Chicks
13. More Adventurous - Rilo Kiley


Now for a song that's not on this CD - "As Cool As I Am" by Dar Williams. I knew there was a video for this song, but I could never watch it properly the various places it was posted. Now, however, it's on YouTube, so I'm putting it below. I don't know how I feel about all the cutaways to lyrics, but I really love the end, and also the part where she's dancing in the hallway.

The blank calendar ahead

"Personally, I love the false promise of the New Year."

-Dar Williams at the Somerville Theatre, December 10, 2006

As usual, I agree with the venerable Ms. Williams. It's not that 2006 was so bad. On the contrary, as it progressed, I became progressively happier and more content. Being content, however, is its own pitfall, which is how I formed one of my New Year's resolutions. I usually make one concrete and one abstract resolution. Last year's abstract one (to be more aware) led to this year's concrete one, to meditate every day. Yes, it is New Age-y, but I feel much better when I let my mind be quiet for ten minutes. My abstract resolution is to be more adventurous (or its flip side, to be less safe). Because honestly, why the hell not? When I actually look at what I have to lose, it's usually not much. And I should definitely be used to embarrassing myself by now.

I read Life of Pi, and a conversation about it with a friend did save me from hating it, but it's definitely not one of my favorites. Right now I'm working on The Second Sex alongside the collected Strangers in Paradise by Terry Moore, which my dear friend Clare lent to me, and in which I am utterly absorbed. Finally, I am starting to read comic books. I want to thank Clare publicly for her persistence in this campaign.

I want to put a picture here of one of my favorite corners in the world, Bardstown Road and Longest Avenue in Louisville, which I got to visit on Saturday. Heine Brothers' Coffee, Ramsi's Cafe, and Carmichael's Bookstore...seriously, I could live in a tent there and be happy.

Happy New Year to all! I hope the sense of possibility that accompanies the arbitrary date change redeems itself.

Selling pencils in Hanoi

Library school finals season enforced that long lull. I have a couple of things to talk about, so that will either make up for the lull, or bore you. Like Fox News, I'll let you decide.

I'm at home in the Midwest for a couple of weeks, but I just finished a trip to NYC with my mother and sister. We were quite touristy - did museums, skating at Rockefeller Center, etc., but my favorite part, of course, was the Strand. This was my fourth time to New York, and I finally visited the physical origin of those tote bags I've been staring at forever. Their slogan is "18 miles of books," which must be mostly in the height of the shelves. It was just everything I hoped it would be, from the hipster employees to the overstuffed poetry section to the way you'd keep turning corners and there would be still more books. Only the prospect of having to carry my purchases all day prevented me from buying boxes of high-quality, reasonably-priced used books.

And speaking of books, I'm two-thirds through one of my first pleasure-reading books since the summer: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers. I didn't know what it was about before I started reading it, didn't know it was a memoir about the death of his parents--I just expected some good clean po-mo fun. And it is, but it's also moving and funny; David Foster Wallace's blurb on the back of the book really describes it best, and you should check it out. The writing reminds me of DFW's, but not in a derivative way. He writes thus about exposing all his experiences to the world:

"These things, details, stories, whatever, are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it?....Do we know where the snake is now? What the snake is thinking now? No. By now the snake could be wearing fur; the snake could be selling pencils in Hanoi."

This makes a lot of sense to me, and also seems to explain, somehow, why PostSecret hasn't posted any of the four secrets I've sent them. They're not really secrets, after all. They're just secrets from some people. I've never been able to keep anything totally to myself...um, hence, this blog (among other things).


Oh, and this week I'm in love with:
The Pursuit of Happyness, which my mom and I saw tonight and very much enjoyed, despite the efforts of many giggling suburban teenagers.
Rilo Kiley - actually, I'm fairly obsessed. Thank you, Michelle.

The Strand! Image from www.strandbooks.com.

An embarrassment of riches

I think there's a directly proportional relationship in my life between the level of busy-ness and the number of good things happening. I have barely two more weeks to go in this semester before I leave for a couple of weeks (New York, Chicago, Louisville). I have no time and less money, and so much work to do academically. And yet, the following things are true:

-I got into Collection Development next semester.

-I got to write a paper on Library Thing - you can peruse my catalog as LaBibliotecaria here.

-I opened my Wallace Stevens' Collected Poems to a perfect, appropriate poem today.

-I'm looking forward to a long break full of books, food, and travel.

-This morning, I had to get up early to go to a full day of work after not that much sleep and with a fairly wicked hangover, but I'm glad, because if I hadn't, I would have completely missed the first snow of the winter - which always inspires this foolish, primal joy in me.

Basically, my little life is bursting at the seams. So I'll have to be running now.

Batgirl was not part of this quiz.

Usually on these sorts of things, I have fairly equal distribution, but apparently I am so much like Spiderman, it's scary.

Maybe I'll have something more insightful to post later this week.

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 95% Robin 57% Iron Man 55% Superman 50% Wonder Woman 45% Supergirl 40% Batman 40% Hulk 35% The Flash 25% Catwoman 20% Green Lantern 10%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero am I?" quiz...

Stage combat and old journals

Lately, I've been all dramatic about my life - about things like indecision, infatuation, school-related stress. Now, I'm at home, and last night and today I was leafing through old journals. And I was reminded of the actual hard things I've gone through--really hard things. At this point, I'm relatively stable and sane. I'm making my own way. There are lots of people that love me. I get to go to class and talk about encyclopedias.

I'm not saying there's nothing left to improve upon, or that everything in my life is somehow resolved. (Ten hours with my dad is proof of that.) I just need to remember the bravery of my old self and of many people I know (especially my mother), and to quit whining. I should be using that energy to create some small amount of change, or at least to communicate better/more.

To make this post slightly less navel-gazing, why don't I tell you how I enjoyed The Pirate Queen, a musical in its pre-Broadway run in Chicago. There were some interesting themes about feminine power. Also Irish dancing and, um, pirates.

Questions of travel.

"I really can't believe it all. Not only are there highly impractical mountains all around with clouds floating in & out of one's bedroom, but waterfalls, orchids, all the Key West flowers...."
-Elizabeth Bishop, letter, February 14, 1952

Last night, I went to hear Jane Mirandette talk about founding the first lending library in Nicaragua. (Libraries there were previously non-circulating only.) It's an amazing project, and I recommend that if you have time, money, or books to give, to give those things to the San Juan del Sur Biblioteca Móvil.

Jane said she went to Nicaragua on vacation and stayed, and soon "knew" that she was meant to be there, that she was meant to end up there. This struck me and stuck with me, especially because my only pleasure reading lately has been One Art, a book of Elizabeth Bishop's letters. Bishop did the same thing. She went on vacation in 1951 to Brazil, got horribly sick, and when she got better, found that she really didn't want to leave. She stayed for fifteen years.

Part of me (okay, a big part) finds these stories incredibly appealing. I came home last night all starry-eyed. I wanted to go to a South American country, fall madly in love (as Bishop did) with someone who would both love me and financially support me so that I could start a library and write poems. More than that, maybe, I want the feeling that I was meant to end up somewhere.

It also gives me pause to remember that the other Elizabeth's story didn't exactly turn out happily ever after. She was happy while she was there, though.

EB in 1954:


not stealing...
The EB picture is by J.L. Castel and comes from the Vassar College Archives & Special Collections website.

Some librarians have some resentment.

I pretty much have no time, since I've been staying up late and having great conversations with people, and haven't been working on final papers. I did come across this, however, when actually doing research for a paper. And I had to post it.

Why You Should Fall to Your Knees and Worship a Librarian

A good day for Democrats and manual labor

I had to post because this afternoon, in the small library where I work, the two librarians and I put together a book truck. We screwed in the shelves, applied the cranberry racing stripes (I kid you not), and had it rolling in an hour, all while discussing same-sex marriage ballot initiatives and various members of the Simmons faculty. I love my job, and the people there. I'm learning all the things they don't teach you in library school, etc.

Speaking of ballots, I cast mine today - or rather, fed it into a scanner. Deval Patrick was elected, as were John Yarmuth in Louisville (SO exciting), Baron Hill in Indiana, Ted Strickland in Ohio, and Bob Casey in Pennsylvania. Of course, post-election giddiness will not suffice. How about perhaps, getting some work done? Yes, I'm Elizabeth and I still (somewhat) believe in democracy. I even write to my representatives in Congress. What can I say? I'm old-school.

However, I must protest that Massachusetts apparently does not give out "I Voted" stickers. Come on now...there has to be a little incentive, a little visible way to declare your superiority to others.

Turning over old leaves

Apparently, people do read this blog, because I had a complaint recently that I hadn't posted lately! Imagine that. There's so much going on - I'm in the middle of a bunch of projects at school, it's a big week at work, and I had two fabulous weekends in a row (my mom came to visit; I went to Amherst).

So I checked out Fun Home by Alison Bechdel (see previous post), and read it in two sittings. It was really good; its subtitle is "a tragicomic," which is accurate. It's literary, layered, and moving. And there's nothing in it that you wouldn't find in your standard Judy Blume or Francesca Lia Block book. For goodness' sake.

When I was in Amherst I went with a friend to the Quabbin Reservoir. For those of you who don't know, the Quabbin, which supplies Boston with its drinking water, was created by evacuating, "discontinuing," and flooding four towns in this valley, which formed a natural dam on three sides, and just needed the fourth one to be blocked. It's a beautiful but melancholy place; you can feel the spirit of things that once were, and will no longer exist again.

We tried to catch leaves as they were torn from the trees by the strong wind, saying that if we did, we'd get a wish. My friend caught one, but I couldn't chase one down - they're pretty damn elusive. The other morning, however, as I walked to class, I felt something run into my side. I looked down, and there was a dead leaf sticking to my jacket. I'm still thinking about what to wish for.

This is the Enfield Lookout (I think). Photo (c) Sam Masinter, from Amherst Magazine.

Get it together, Missouri

This is from Libraries Online, the news & updates portion of ALA's website. Seriously? Are they serious? Are we still banning books? Yes, they should have a collection development policy; however, that's clearly not the real issue here. I'm officially offended on behalf of graphic novels and the Midwest.

Missouri Trustees Pull Graphic Novels, for Now

The board of the Marshall (Mo.) Public Library voted 7–1 October 11 to remove from circulation the two coming-of-age graphic novels Fun Home by Alison Bechdel and Blankets by Craig Thompson until trustees have codified a material-selection policy—a process that could take months to complete. “We will then have concrete guidelines for [the books’] appropriateness and for their placement if they are kept,” Board President Anita Wright explained to some 90 citizens who packed the meeting, according to the October 12 Marshall Democrat-News.

Explaining that trustees intended to craft “a lasting policy for any selections to be made in the future,” Wright asserted, “At no point will the policy be written with an attempt to ‘work around’ the materials in question.” Louise Mills, who made the reconsideration request, agreed, telling the Democrat-News, “The policy is definitely needed because currently anything can be brought in or taken out by [the library director].”

“Both board members and staff members will work together on the policy committee,” MPL Director Amy Crump told American Libraries, explaining that “for a variety of reasons” the 16-year-old library has never had written collection-development guidelines.

More time for words

I have to admit that as a former English major, I probably don't use the word "ironic" correctly. That being said, I think it's ironic that now that I'm in library school, I'm not reading very much. I read for class, of course (most of the time), but I miss reading books like The Unbearable Lightness of Being or White Teeth. Books that crack my mind open, that make me say "Holy crap, that's brilliant" or laugh out loud in public places.

And then there's time for writing, too. I feel that if I just scheduled myself a little better (and if Facebook died), I'd write more regularly. Ironically, I did write a poem last week in class. I'm going to post it, and I'm not exactly sure why. It's not quite finished; it's kind of like an in-class exercise (I guess, in this case, literally). It's not based on anything that really happened; I was just thinking about the phrase "gray area" and thought a sonnet would be accomplishable in two hours. Like my previous poem, it is as yet title-less.

[I removed this poem for various and sundry reasons.]

A comic.

I have Evan to thank for this. It comes from www.hingos.com/patches.