A Home for My Tomes

I am weighed down by a guilt only other bibliophiles could understand. 

I have always kept a mental catalog of every book I possess. I always remember the title and maybe half of the time I remember the author if was a particularly good book or a “classic” or the author is famous. I am almost always able to recall when and where I acquired my books. Whether it was a gift or purchased by myself. New from a book store, used from a rummage sale, free from a library that was just going to throw it out (one of the perks of being a library assistant in college). I came by most of them honestly, some of them less so. 

Yes, I confess. I have stolen a few books (no more than a dozen, I swear) in my time. Mostly from my sister (sorry K) but once or twice I simply “forgot” to return a novel or two to an English teacher along the way. Well, when you have 100+ copies of The Great Gatsby, are you really going to notice one missing? But I digress. It is not these pilfered books that cause me woe. 

I used to know exactly where each one of my books was located. Pride and Prejudice? On top of the dresser between The Collected Works of Jane Austen and Wives and Daughters. Demons and Angels by Dan Brown? Second shelf of the white bookcase, sitting atop Gone with the Wind and others because I never have enough room. My stolen copies of Nora Roberts? In a box under my bedside table. That free copy of Case for Christ foisted upon me by an overzealous evangelical? On a shelf in the back of my closet because I couldn’t bear to throw a book away. *

How I sorted my books might not make sense to anyone but me, but it worked. I knew my system. I knew my shelves. Every time I got a new book I took great care in making a space for it. I loved the days when I could set aside hours to rearrange my shelves. Every book would come down. Stacks would be organized on the floor. I’d inevitably end up spending more time rereading my favorite parts than actually working. But each book would get held and considered; thus forever imprinting itself in my memory. 

Since moving many things have changed. I have new bookshelves and I have to share them. I always loved arranging my books. But this time was different. In the chaos of moving in, organizing them all so precisely seemed trivial. And now I had to consider where Dustin’s books would fit in. As a result I can no longer tell you exactly where each book is. Or even exactly which books I have. 

Twice now I have purchased a book only to find when I bring it home I already have a copy. The shame! I don’t even know my bookshelves anymore! This is almost as distressing as the time my older tomes got worms. (real thing. still difficult to talk about.) Sometime this summer I will have to take a day to go through my our books. One by one. Consider each. Recommit it to memory. Then give it a proper home. And take pictures this time so it won’t be as bad when we move again. I’ll also have to get new shelves because these are not up to the task of holding all my books. It’s a little difficult to tell from the photos, but these shelves are seriously bowed in the middle. 

*Side story: I usually donate the books that I no longer desire to possess. I have only thrown away one book in my life. Boy Meets Girl: Say Hello to Courtship. Given to me by a pastor I fundamentally disagreed with on multiple levels. I said thank you and took it home. Five pages in I threw is down in disgust. I’m a firm believer in the whole “to each their own” philosophy. But that book pissed me off. So I threw it in the trash. Looking back, I should have just given it away. I was young. 

Will You Be My Friend (Terms and Conditions Apply)

I knew that after school finding friends would become difficult. I have always wondered how adults do it. Sure you can make friends at work. But “work friends” are different. You can hang out outside of work, but what do you talk about? Work. Maybe if you’re lucky you can find a real friend who happens to be a coworker. But life isn’t a workplace sitcom. Everyone doesn’t mesh together. We don’t all go out for a beer (or in my case, a hard cider) after we punch out.* But this isn’t an episode of Scubs.

but gods, i wish it were

It’s lonely out here in the real word. All of the amazing friends I did manage to make in college have been scattered to the four winds. It’s hard to get together. But some of us do manage it every few months or so. The rest are either too far away or too busy with their new lives.

As an introvert (which I very much am) it’s always been a challenge to make friends. People often mistake my quiet demeanor for aloofness. They take offense where none was meant. Or they leap to the conclusion that I don’t like them. How do I know this? I overhear things. I’m quiet; so people often forget I have ears just because I don’t use my mouth as much as they do.

I had a woman I once worked with ask me why I’m always so serious. This aggravated me because I’m not. I’m not a serious person. I just have a hard time socializing and joking with people I don’t know well enough yet.

Is this what everyone thinks of me? That I’m just sad and serious all the time? Yeah, I can be those things but that’s not who I am. And when people say things like that to me I usually snap back because it pisses me off. Nothing in this world irks me more than the following phrases:

• “We’ll break you of the that shell”
  (which implies there’s something wrong with being introverted. There is nothing wrong with being introverted, you jerks)

• “Oh look! You even made Jamie laugh!”
  (which implies I am some alien life form that has no sense of humor. I’ll laugh when you say something that’s actually funny, dammit)

• “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for”
  (which implies I’m always plotting something devious. But, then, maybe I am…asshats)

So on and on it goes. People think I’m unfriendly or “have a problem with them” because I’m quiet. These misconceptions throw up huge blocks on the road to friendship. But I refuse to become someone I’m not just to please people and make fake friends.

i might have shared this before, but i still love it.
so look at it again. 

Side note: I've been reading Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking. Highly recommend, no matter where you fall on the spectrum.

*please note that I am describing my previous place of employment here. My current coworkers do, in fact, go out after work together quite frequently.

Movin’ On Up

To the east si- Actually it’s mostly south. So really, I’m moving down. Because north is up and south is down. 

Unless you’re in Australia. Then everything is flipped, turned upside down. But I’d like to take a minute, so just sit right there. I’ll tell you all about how I because a Department Assistant in the Cardiac Cath Lab at Sanford Medical Center… 

*The other day I made some goals for myself. I plotted out a flexible outline of when I wanted them accomplished. I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. The word resolution sounds so final and concrete. And yet they crumble so quickly. So last year I set goals and gave myself a rough estimate of when I wanted them finished. I need the wiggle room. I don’t do well with deadlines. (more on that later)

But finish them I did! Well, all except getting a tattoo by my 25th birthday. But I put that off for good reason. 

I needed the money I would have spent on the tattoo for my birthday/Christmas/anniversary gift for Dustin. What did I get him that could cost so much that I could justifiably count it as three gifts in one? Another Xbox One? No. (though he did want one and eventually went on to purchase one for himself) Super fancy cologne? No. (I’m not even sure he’d want that, let alone use it) A big fat gift certificate to NewEgg or ThinkGeek? No. (but those are good ideas)

I got him a freaking sword. And not just any sword. 

Anduril, Flame of the West. 

a genuine, licensed replica of a prop
from the movie adaptation of the books.

Blow his mind, did I? Yes. Yes I did. Totally worth it. But I’m getting way off track. 

All the other goals were accomplished. Granted I only made about seven-ish goals. But they were big ones:

• Purchase my own car. All on my own. No co-signers on the loan. No other name on the title. Mine. Paid for with my own money. 
• Move out of parent house once and for all. Postal address changed. All financial and government institutions notified. Childhood bedroom being turned into an office for Father. No going back.
• Move in with Dustin. Successfully learn to cohabitate. 
• Go on a real vacation. One week. No real plans. Just he and I enjoying life. 
• Get a new job. 

And that last one brings me back around to my original point. I have a new job. I am no longer working as a CNA at a nursing home. 

I mixed feelings about this. I loved my job. I loved my people. I loved going to a place where everybody knows my name. And they were always glad I came. 

But it was time to go. The commute was the biggest factor. 35-40 minutes there, 35-40 minutes back. (inclement weather permitting) The pay was another. And the hours were getting pretty rough. I feel awful for leaving them when they were already so short staffed. But sometimes you have to do what’s best for you. I was getting burned out; finding it more and more difficult to be patient with my residents, which was always something I had prided myself on. But when you’re overworked and underpaid, it’s hard to stay positive. When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month or even your year - it’s time to move on. 

So I said goodbye to some of my favorite people and started new. I had a lot of “new” to kick off 2016. New car. New job. New living arrangement in a new town. It’s nerve-racking. There have been some bumps to be sure. (dropped out of college for the third time - more on that later)  But I’m taking the good. I’m taking the bad. And there I have the facts of life. 

*Originally written in January of 2016

And just for funsies: a picture of me, Dustin and our fat cat Emmy. She’s slowly learning to tolerate me. It helps that I am constantly bribing her with treats. 

it doesn't help that i keep putting her in little outfits

Here I Go Again

Dear reader,

It's been a while, hasn't it? So let's jump right in!

The next few posts will kind of be a catch-up. Going through the backlog.

I've still been writing sporadically over the last year and a half. I just haven't been able to find the time (or rather inclination) to put my words on the internet.

But I'm attempting (yet again) to get back in the swing of things. Writing is one of those swing things.

So let's back this thing up and start from the beginning.