Anniversaries

We here at Kerry Enterprises have had one eye on the calendar and one eye looking out for doom. For this week marked the 3 year anniversary of the fucking awful accident in which I broke my arm, and the 1 year anniversary of coming to the conclusion that I was extremely unhappy in my relationship and needed out, fast. Nothing bad has happened, but we are reminded of the 10 year stint of Absolutely Crappy Springs. Seriously, from the time I was 10 to the time I was 20, something catastrophic happened in the period of February-June every year. I won't go into details due to privacy issues, but it was tax problems, lost jobs, car wrecks, suspensions and more. No wonder I could never go back to NJ--it was fear of being sucked into the family vortex of despair and instability more than anything.

But we are congratulating ourselves to our remarkable efficiency, confining our happening shit to perhaps one week every other year. In celebration, I cleaned out the closet and got 10 boxes of stuff and a shoerack to go to the blind this week. Of the remaining clothes, I did not try them on due to the fact that I felt oily and hadn't taken a shower yet, but I promise to wear and dispose of anything that doesn't work in the next month or so. I also started on some patching and filling in of holes in the walls for when I paint in a couple of months, which the closet sorely needs because it is painted a brownish gray with yellow trim. Yes, it is difficult to find anything to wear in the morning when your closet is a dark cesspit. Those colors were not my choice. And I think that part of the floor has a secret space underneath, for it has an outline on the floorboards and sounds hollow underneath. Treasure!

The Last Year of Being Married--Sarah Tucker

So, if you happened to be a 30-something British travel journalist named Sarah Tucker with a young son and a home in France, would you write a novel about a 30-something British travel journalist named Sarah Giles with a young son and a house in France? Hopefully no, because the whole idea of fiction is that it should not directly mirror your own life. As a reader, that's an automatic mark down in my book, because fiction=not your real life.

Back in the readers' advisory workshop I took there was a discussion of romance novels and one of the things that readers of that genre report is that the #1 thing they are looking for in a protagonist is that she should be smarter than the reader. Humm. This is why this book sucks for me. Because while I may have a broken man picker, I WOULD NEVER MARRY A GUY WHO DOESN'T WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME. AND THEN, I WOULDN'T STAY WITH HIM FOR ANOTHER 4 YEARS WHICH WOULD MAKE OH, GOD--7 YEARS WITHOUT SEX???????!!!!!!!! No wonder ol' Sarah resulted to some affairs which sure as hell didn't improve the marriage any. Yeah, so the protagonist is passive and in my book, dumb as shit. And then, in the end she's all self-congratulatory about her struggle and her acceptance and moving on to new relationships. Except she's still defining herself in relation to a guy who can make her come. Honey, just buy a vibrator and spend the next 7 years in therapy.

I've been getting freaked out at reports of natural gas prices going up 75% this year. I have the budget plan with the heating people, but that will not be enough. So I spent today doing some house repair stuff that I'd been putting off.

What I did:

• Swept the floor near the catboxes
• Washed out the furnace filter. Realized that a reusable, washable filter is a nice ecological idea, but I live in Cleveland. I will not be running out in January to rinse this sucker out, and so I measured it to go and buy replacement filters. 26" by 16 3/4."
• Drained the water heater!
• Got 5 years worth of fluff out of the outside vent. Realized that I need to fill that in some way, as the outlet is smaller than the hole.
  
• Tried to fix my lightbulbs from where I pulled too hard and the strings got stuck. No luck. I'm headed to the library for the Cleveland Restoration Society's talk on home maintenance and winterizing tomorrow night, so I will have to conduct a reference experiment.
  

And although my most recent trip to the library lead to a lost wallet and hassle, I did get what looks to be a good cookbook that will help this winter. I haven't looked at it too critically, but a quick breeze through of Beth Hensperger's Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker Cookbook shows a variety of grain and vegetable dishes, along with the standard meat heavy stuff. It even has a breakfast and dessert section, which is rare. And did I mention that it was pretty veggie-friendly? I wouldn't buy it for Genevieve or the Phoenix contingent, but I'd at least suggest they take a look at it for ideas. Plus, slow cooker=energy efficient! And makes me pay attention to food right when I get home, cutting off my tendency to get to hungry and then eat junk.

The Truth About Libraryland

Linda Koss is right. There's just something about librarianship that attracts wimps, and the culture of the profession just reinforces that behavior and mindset to the point where spunky librarians either leave or drown in the undertow of negative thinking and paralysis. It's been mentioned in a couple of my library school classes with a shrug and a "waddya gonna do?" smile.

Think about it--if you read the new librarian listservs, what goes on? Angst about basic job interview skills and points of etiquette. Never say anything insightful or provocative or call someone out on their bullshit, because "they" might be reading! Suck it up, be nice, even when someone is an asshole whiner. Constantly second guess yourself, because of course you're more impressive if you're insecure! Never apply for a job that's a stretch. Whine, whine, whine instead of being proactive or creative.

Much as I rolled my eyes at their findings, if as Holt & Strock suggest and entry-level librarian positions are being applied for by mid-level professionals, that's just another manifestation of the problem. They didn't explore whether there's a shortage of mid-level jobs, but I'd bet that there's a lot of librarians who apply for jobs they're overqualified for due to fear and disinterest in moving up the ladder. It also plays into wages-- "you want two master's degrees, a foreign language, an ability to do the impossible and pay me $25,000? Of course I'll take the job!" the librarian says! Instead of "piss up a rope!" which is what I say.

Do I know how to change this? No. Am I a wimp? Hell, yeah. But I despise my own wimpiness. And in the end, I can't change the profession, just stick to my standards and work on my own flaws.

Wikipedia to tighten editorial rules

People who know me know I am no fan of Wikipedia.* Hey, let's have anonymous people churning out content relying only on volunteers and peer pressure to verify it! Yeah, that's a swell idea. My ass.

So I was happy, nay--briefly overjoyed--to see this.

*The wiki I think is a great tool. The Wikipedia is a crappy idea, especially for reference. I wrote a whole paper on it. A+, Ms. Kerry!

Girl of the Limberlost--Gene Stratton Porter

This book was published in 1909, and it is still a great read. Okay, it's a little preachy but these are lessons that are still valid and true.

What did we learn?

• Always get an education.
• Even if it looks like all is lost, if you just keep at it something will change. Or you will, and you'll be better able to get past it.
  
• A little crappy parenting makes the child a tougher person.
• It's nearly impossible to kill a child's love for a parent.
  
• There's nothing so silly as losing your head over love.
  
• Be frugal. You can do impressive things with a little creativity. But not cheap!
  
• Be yourself.
• The bitch act does wear thin after a while.
  
• Don't get involved with a guy with entanglements.

Anything else?

Book Thoughts

The amount of crap I have is truly driving me bugfuck. Not to mention that I have no place to put things. The Tuscan Nightmare room has Gimlet and her kittens (Sidecar, Cosmo, Mai Tai and Tom Collins), plus the second I get her out of there and either adopted or in the general population I want to start work on it as the wallpaper is bubbly in parts and the paint job truly nauseating (thanks again, idiot ex! Just had to "finish" the room before you moved out, even though I said not to bother.). The red room is still locked. The attic--well, that's how I forgot about how much I had in the first place, no?

It's the books that are the tipping point. I have so many that I thrifted in crap condition that I bought just to have. I can't sell them, they are still readable so I'd feel guilty recycling them (I love my town--they do let you recycle books on the sidelawn!) so I have to give them away, back to the thrifts because Friends of the Library doesn't give tax deductions. Goodbye Booth Tarkington! I suspect that everyone else has forgotten you. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall--well, Jasper Fforde has been slagging on the Bronte girls a ton, so I'm sure I'll remember you. It's Charlotte who helped her husband knock off Emily and Anne and then died of morning sickness, right? Oh, Michael Chabon. I am getting rid of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, even if it is a masterpiece, because since I found out you are married to first class nutter Ayelet Waldman, I cannot take you seriously. I'm keeping A Passage To India because of my mild literature set in India interest, and Persuasion because it has been a Jane Austen sort of year, but The Dante Club violates the "No serial killers!" rule and must go.

Thank heavens I have been able to stop buying books and magazines. Now onto the dratted library habit.

Galveston--Sean Stewart

The hurricane coverage reminded me of this book as I saw the rioting pictures and the flooded streets. It's a bit of a genre bender. I'd classify it as fantasy, but it doesn't fit neatly into any of the conventions. Right, so you've heard about the deadly Galveston hurricane of 1900 that killed 6,000 and nearly destroyed the city? This novel takes place after a second hurricane 100 years later that hits Galveston again, this time cutting it off from the rest of the world and opening a second dimension that is a magical Mardi Gras. Over time, people die off due to age or illness and lack of supplies or become corrupted by the magic and have to cross over to this other world. So it's a book that deals with the struggle to remain human in the face of a destroying influence and loss of culture and familiarity. It's a sad and beautiful book and I ought to reread it.

Did The Baroness Pontalba And Her Mama Get Out Okay?

Like, oh everyone, I've been glued to the Hurricane Katrina coverage. Amazed at the utter incompetence and stupidity of the federal government (and you know it's gotta be bad if I'm saying I'm amazed), strangely turned on by the lawlessness, shocked at the disintegration of people, sad because I'll never see New Orleans now. It's dead--there's no infrastructure, the city proper is 80% flooded, and from the fire and chemicals and heavens know what else it's a gigantic Superfund site now. It seems as though people have started to stop and say, "Whoa. In retrospect, this is so not the place for a major city!" Pump it out, run skeletons in to take care of the oil and gas refineries and the barges, let Baton Rouge become a boomtown.

I'm in mourning not for the people or the architecture or the food. It's the larger loss of a giant piece of American culture, that richness of the coastal South. Lucinda Williams is looking for the road to Slidell. Julie Smith has let Skip and Talba lose--where did they go? Not Houston. No more seductions of straight-laced Yankee girls a la "The Big Easy." Nanci Griffith singing about how she needs a year down in New Orleans and the roses. There's a huge hole where all that's left to remember it is stories, pictures and songs and the idea of a city that has not much going for it, but by golly it is happy to have you come and stay a spell in its fairyland.

It's very odd to think about Hurricane Katrina so thoroughly wiping that out leaving nothing its place, not even hope and promise. America's usually got that in spades--not today, and I think no more.