A curse and a blessing, little signs in life

One of the earliest forms of reading is through the interpretation of signs.  I remember riding in my parents’ Ford four-door, sitting in the back while they carried on their conversations about work and life.  I’d watch for billboards. I vowed then, as a young child can vow to oneself, that I would learn how to interpret the markings on the sign.  I wanted to know what was going on.

According to my parents, I began reading around the age of four.  So these early billboard image memories are a treasure not only because I am remembering something so early in my life, but that I am remembering anything from my childhood.

Reading is an essential opportunity to access worlds of information.  Whether this turns into knowledge that is beneficial is another matter (and that is where teachers, librarians, parents, care-givers come into the picture), and that is for another post.  Knowing I could always “figure it out” was my Ace, and it saved me time and again.  I was often naive and uninformed, but I could figure it out.  When presented with a problem, head to the place of information.

Part of this motivation is a desire to gain control over my life’s circumstances at times when I felt overwhelmed with problems.  Part of it is growing up in a culture that envelopes each of us with the hope that if we work hard enough at something, we’ll probably succeed.  That work ethic makes me crazy sometimes, but it has also succeeded enough that I keep going in that direction.  I have a collection of rings I’ve obtained through the risks of leaning too far in the saddle, and some permanent bruises and scars as well.

There are other types of signs, too.  Just like most children, I felt that the world was communicating with me in some way.  Those billboards were trying to say something to me.  I believed the full moon was watching and following me as my parents drove me around through the night traffic, coming home from dinner or some event.  And it freaked me out.

As an adult I carry on some of these tendencies; they seem harmless enough and honesty there is a part of me that would feel very disconnected if I let go of this.  I know, most of those good-natured skeptics out there (and there are a few in the library world) have scoffed.  The peer pressure to be viewed as “normal” is enormous, and yet what is it that crosses the border of acceptance?  When revealing this side of me, I run the risk of being labeled “weird.”  It happens and it runs deep.

Nevertheless, I made another vow early on when creating this blog that I would trust you.  So, with a deep breath, I continue.

This is a small instance.  I have to start small so that you don’t think I’m really crazy, and it’s just one little example of what I hope to be many to come – if you will allow me this.

As I write this, a storm is settling in.  Wind is picking up and the sky is darkening.  I can smell rain and lightening in the background.  My old cat is sitting by the open door to the deck and he looks up at me from time to time.  I pet him as I pass by to put down the deck umbrella.  The other cat is still curled up on the cushion on the chair, enjoying the summer warmth.

I began downloading a couple of CDs to my iPod about two hours ago.   On song 13, the process froze.  The song’s title is “Same Mistake,” by James Blunt.  I got up and took care of a couple of chores, thinking to give it time to unfreeze on its own.  My upstairs computer is older and sometimes takes a while.  CTRL+ALT+Delete do not make a difference.

After an hour, I remembered to check on the progress.  There has been no change other than time passing.  So, I wonder:  is this a one of those little signs?  The number 13 has always been trouble for me.  Am I making a mistake writing this? As I promised, I will renew my courage and look myself straight in the eye with the conviction that I can, I will go on.  There is so much to tell.

Life is certainly full of stories, symbols, and signs.  In the search for information I have been enmeshed with daily recounts in each of these areas.  Yesterday a patron asked if the world was going to end on September 10th.  I will write more about this soon.

For now, I am enjoying the blessing that I can read and write.  I’m somewhat proud that I am adept in finding information and in discerning a patron’s needs.  Now to take care of batting down the hatches.

Looming pechant for drama

Every age we pass through brings us an understanding.  I recall my teenager these days; the desire to feel so deeply.  I remember standing under a streetlamp in an evening, remote and alone, belting out some Broadway tune so strongly that I felt I was floating.  I half-hoped someone would hear me and like it.  I half-feared someone would notice.

Our age – the one we live in- has a strong undercurrent of drama.  Obviously there is a relief for the distraction from our daily toils.  There looms a “comfort in melancholy,” as Joni Mitchell recounted so many years ago.  There lives the darkened stream of disaster just at the edge of our vision.  This is the place of war, nuclear disaster, self-destruction through over-population, pollution, bad choices that require a pay-back with hefty interest.

From my previous entries you’ve probably gathered my tendency away from those shadowy places of angst and “oh my gosh” thoughts.  I don’t want to be calmed down; I’d rather just be calm.  I choose and I’m motivated to keep going on this lighter path.  As briefly mentioned before, yoga is a part of my life.

Yoga is like a friendly dog that didn’t need my training, but just adjusted to my lifestyle (while I learned how to do downward facing dog) as I noticed the overall wonderful effect of having her around.  I invited her in and she’s a good reminder.

Calming the nervous system in whatever ways we can work wonders in all areas of life.  When staff doesn’t show, or someone creates the exact opposite of what had hoped; when you hit all the red lights and you are now late; when the phone is ringing and the dean is waiting and you forgot to make those copies but now the machine is broken; when your son is sliding into a bad place and every nerve is needing a breath…

then breathe.

Luckily these days are good ones, but I remember – oh yes, I remember times that hit so unbelievably hard that the stars are below my feet.  Indeed, I am lucky, but more than that.  I have tried and tested tools to help me, and yoga helps keep me in training for the unexpected.  We all know it comes.

On the reference desk, I remember to breathe.  I tolerate and advocate, I keep a neutrality around ‘live and let live’ that is from my heart, I am interested in almost everything and I have principles.  Yoga helps with this.

It’s also made me an inch taller, according to my doctor’s measurements over the last five years.

My inner teenager is one of the phases of my life I hope never to forget, but I wish I was taller then.  At least I wrote some pretty good poetry.  I’ll share this sometime, when I feel courageous again.

Toward a working theme of brain exercise, relaxation, and processes of life

The less we are stressed, the better we can think.  I am a good example of how this plays out.  There are days when I sit staring at the “Easy Crossword Puzzle Book” upstairs for a moment and think, “I know that word,” and then I have no more time to dilly-dally.  It’s a good measure.

I feel lucky that there are more days when I can whip out the words just about as fast as I can read the clues.  In fact, I feel a little guilty that I use such an easy level.  And yet, it is less frustrating and is a quick mind exercise and the gratification is immediate so I go back to it.  If it was the New York Times, I don’t think I would continue to put myself through again and again.  I have enough hardship.

Today a colleague showed me a site about relaxation called “Sound Sleeping,” and I promised to pass this along:

http://www.soundsleeping.com/

Deep breath in…

…deep breath out.

Sadly, I report that my yoga instructor of five years is moving too far away to continue her local classes.  As Kermit said, “Life is full of meetings and departures….that is the way of it.”  It’s okay – to feel sad, to get over it, to move on. That’s the process.

A tribute: Remembering the one who took me to the library

Today is my late father’s birthday.  With a pang in my throat, I want to say here that I miss him even though it’s been five years since his departure.  He was the one who brought me along to the Seattle Public Library way back in the late sixties and early seventies.  He talked to me about stories and definitely influenced my taste for science fiction and fantasy.

He will live on in me and through me to my children, in some manner.  I see his expression illuminate my son’s face from time to time.  I hear him call my name if I concentrate very hard.

Those who have been lucky enough to have a mentor who eased them into the library and literacy world will understand the tribute I am trying to express here.  Thank you, Dad.  Thank you, for always.

Added later:

The Seattle Public Library is a bit different (!) than it was when Dad and I frequented it.  He’d take me up to the third floor to scan and choose Science Fiction, and he’d pick up his weekly stack.

I’d like to offer here two viewable versions of the SPL.  Version A is about a minute in length, and the teen inside me would prefer this one:

Or, if you have ten minutes and really want the full tour, here is the extended version (with no music):

Ahh, brings back good memories!  I wish I could work there!  Maybe someday.

What’s this for?

I admit it…I’ve done this blogging thing before.  I have a MySpace blog that is focused on libraries and authors.  I’ve been careful about what I post, especially since my work is centered on helping people and information literacy.  The best way I can do this is to be as professional as I can – and that means “tolerance and open-mindedness,” and to keep my opinions to myself.  I’ve been cautious and skittish about stepping over that line.

But this time I swear it’s new, it’s fresh, it’s different…and I won’t be afraid.  I won’t be ruled by fear!  I mean it.  I won’t let the lurking shadowy “who will read this?” prevent me from being a bit more personal.

I’ve taught information literacy and Internet Safety (yes, with capital letters).  I know about the hard and fast rules about the endless visibility online and yet there is a veil of a dare to this.  I don’t mean to give you the wrong idea about me.  After all, we just met.

So what’s this blog for?  What am I doing here?

• I want a place for my poetry and thoughts, free from the politics of my library work.

• I want to get a draft of my novel “Any Decent Person” down.  You will see the tag line “novel.”  The book begins with “Morning in the Hot Tub,” October 9, 2008.

• A public place invites interaction – I welcome any thoughts or comments as the story unfolds.  I will continue adding to the story (I have a written draft to work from) and will edit previous entries as needed to polish and smooth out the rough edges.

I hope you enjoy reading it.

Bye for now,

The Digital Librarian

Where I grew up

Hello! My first post in a long time…

I have not used Word Press in a very long time, and it’s nice to be back. This is my new Word Press blog.  I hope you continue to come back for information about libraries, digital reference, and librarianship in the cyber world.

See you soon!