Not much to say. Fiddle dee dee. Amazing what can pass through one’s brain, and leave so little to think about, or say before something actually occurs. I’m feeling boss-assaulted at work. A stealth assault, where she jumps out of her office, runs to my workplace, says “boogaboogabooga” (or something like it) and words akin to “I need this by yesterday.” Then off she sprints. I know she’ll be back, adding 2 or 3 things to the list of stuff she needs by yesterday. Every time my boss speaks to her higher-ups, she goes into the stratosphere of nervous worktics. The library staff pays. For example, if the Big boss said he liked ice cream, it would come to us, within an hour of this statement, that “Big boss ordered an online ice cream distribution system.” and that we should drop everything to look into it. I despise certain aspects of my job.
I’m at the reference desk right now, where odds are good that I won’t see a single person for the next two hours. I suggested a number of months ago that traffic is so impossibly light at this desk, we should consider doing reference interviews on-call only, giving the reference librarians freedom to do other stuff, like training for the staff. This was taken to heart by the administration, and it’s slowly happening. A guy from the “phones and computers and wiring” department just came by and told me to move my feet so he could look under the reference desk. They’re gonna be moving things around.
I’m in an abnormally crappy mood today. I have no spark. I feel like I’ve been dragged backwards through a knothole. I’m not satisfied with my sleep for the last few months. To be sure, I’m lying in bed for 8 hours but I wake up feeling like I need a nap. I don’t think I’m unhappy. Maybe I am. I don’t think I’m depressed. Maybe I am. I don’t feel out of control, really. I feel like I’m in a deep, still lake, waiting. I feel like I’m treading water, waiting for a toothy beast to bite my leg and drag me under.
I guess there are things that make me thankful. I’m glad my kids don’t use, and aren’t even slightly interested in, drugs or alcohol. My evenings and weekends are relatively free of drama. I have a wonderful family, and amazing online friends. They put up with me. Some of them even like me. I’m competent at most things I do. I can usually make it to the bathroom before I wet myself. I can blog my li’l socks off. I was selected to review a prepulication copy of a book for librarything.com. It’s not really an honor, but it makes me happy that my reviews are becoming recognized. My sons are brilliant. I love that Daniel’s shown an interest in Japanese, and Alexander in Drama.
I used to find solace in small things: looking at snails or a colony of ants, or the pattern of bark on a tree. I woke up the other night realizing nothing is silent anymore. Any given second I can hear the electric hum of something; neighbors chatting, or yelling, or screaming; jet engines blasting overhead; the constant dull roar of traffic; sirens on emergency vehicles. Then at 5AM the loud birds begin. Stupid effing birds. I never used to get pissed off by hearing the sounds of nature. Now I want them to find somewhere else to do their noisy birdthings.
So why do I feel like my cup is 1/8 empty instead of 7/8 full? If anyone says I need to get more Jesus somewhere in my life, I’ll personally tear their thumbs off and feed them to wild boars. Jesus is great. He’s also not a pat statement or a cure-all for every occasion.
Sorry for anyone who has read this far. I should buy you all coffee.