So, I was updating the community hallway in the library today and I heard uproarious laughter and shrieking coming from the girls bathroom. I went inside and it had, sure enough, turned into the Provo High School bathroom in a matter of seconds. Hairspray, tons of eyeliner, and the ever popular butt-showing lowriders. Since it was during school I kindly asked the girls what they were doing at the library during school hours. (I should point out that were all 15 year old sassy latino girls - it doesn't really matter, but it helps you imagine it) "Um, like somebody dropped us off, 'djou know?" "We just had to use the bathroom."
"So, you're done by now, right?"
At this point they all looked a little nervous and one of them bolted into the bathroom. When she came out a few minues later she had a pregnancy test and she looked really relieved. But then her friend said to her "No, you have to wait three minutes stupit". It was killer.
My first thought was 'oh my heck, she needs help' So old lady library kicked in and I went through all of the adoption resources we had in the library and all of the pamphlets on dealing with teen pregnancy (not that we have many, really this is provo). But then I thought 'if she isn't pregnant she needs to know about how to not get pregnant!' But then I knew I would get fired for sure. I was just so struck with how young she was and how much she didn't know about having a baby, or not having a baby (obviously, since she was taking a pregnancy test). Eak.
So, ultimately I decided to let them have their moment alone in the bathroom and I don't know how things turned out. I realized that If I were to be High School librarian and I got to know the kids it would be hard for me to remain objective about their personal lives. Can you imagine coming home from school and telling your parents that your High School librarian had talked to you about contraceptives...can you say fired? Well, for sure here anyway. I don't know. I don't mind saying that I think abstinence only sex education is ridiculous and I can't beleive the government funds it. But maybe my job isn't worth that issue? But really, when you think about this lives of teens and their possible unborn children...maybe it is? Not yet I guess. I'll wait 'till I'm a sassy old woman with nothing to loose and some serious clout to swing around.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
A Gem
Ok, so my favorite book is "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer and if you haven't read it...this quote will kind of overwhelm you but give you a glimpse into what it's like. Think Walt Whitman meets Thomas Pynchon...in Derrida's Bathroom. Oskar's Dad died in 9/11 and here is a conversation he has with his mother in the book.
The next morning I told Mom I couldn’t go to school again. She asked what was wrong. I told her, “the same thing that’s always wrong.” “You’re sick?” “I’m sad.” “About Dad?” “About everything.” She sat down on the bed next to me, even though I knew she was in a hurry. “What’s everything?” I started counting on my fingers: “The meat and diary products in our refrigerator, fistfights, car accidents, Larry—“Who’s Larry?” “The homeless guy in front of the Museum of Natural History who always says ‘I promise its for food’ after he asks for money.” She turned around and I zipped her dress while I kept counting. “How you don’t know who Larry is, even though you probably see him all the time, how Buckminster just sleeps and eats and goes to the bathroom and has no raison detre, the short ugly guy with no neck who takes tickets at the IMAX theater, how the sun is going to explode one day, how every birthday I always get at least one thing I already have, poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it’s cheaper…” That was when I ran out of fingers, but my list was just getting started, and I wanted it to be long, because I knew she wouldn’t leave while I was still going. “…domesticated animals, how I have domesticated animals, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day because no one remembers to spend time them and they’re embarrassed to ask people to spend time with them, secrets, dial phones, how Chinese waitresses smile even when there’s nothing funny or happy, and also how Chinese people own Mexican restaurants but Mexican people never own Chinese restaurants, mirrors, tape decks, my unpopularity at school, Grandma’s coupons, storage facilities, people who don’t know what the Internet is, bad handwriting, beautiful songs, how there won’t be humans in fifty years…”
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close pg. 42
The next morning I told Mom I couldn’t go to school again. She asked what was wrong. I told her, “the same thing that’s always wrong.” “You’re sick?” “I’m sad.” “About Dad?” “About everything.” She sat down on the bed next to me, even though I knew she was in a hurry. “What’s everything?” I started counting on my fingers: “The meat and diary products in our refrigerator, fistfights, car accidents, Larry—“Who’s Larry?” “The homeless guy in front of the Museum of Natural History who always says ‘I promise its for food’ after he asks for money.” She turned around and I zipped her dress while I kept counting. “How you don’t know who Larry is, even though you probably see him all the time, how Buckminster just sleeps and eats and goes to the bathroom and has no raison detre, the short ugly guy with no neck who takes tickets at the IMAX theater, how the sun is going to explode one day, how every birthday I always get at least one thing I already have, poor people who get fat because they eat junk food because it’s cheaper…” That was when I ran out of fingers, but my list was just getting started, and I wanted it to be long, because I knew she wouldn’t leave while I was still going. “…domesticated animals, how I have domesticated animals, nightmares, Microsoft Windows, old people who sit around all day because no one remembers to spend time them and they’re embarrassed to ask people to spend time with them, secrets, dial phones, how Chinese waitresses smile even when there’s nothing funny or happy, and also how Chinese people own Mexican restaurants but Mexican people never own Chinese restaurants, mirrors, tape decks, my unpopularity at school, Grandma’s coupons, storage facilities, people who don’t know what the Internet is, bad handwriting, beautiful songs, how there won’t be humans in fifty years…”
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close pg. 42
Templar Man
Ok, so we have this fabulous patron who insists on giving us 20 minute lectures about government corruption, Dick Cheney (one and the same?), History, who really killed Jesus Christ -you name it- every time he comes to the desk. He's always taking on city hall AND the federal government, and we have no idea how difficult it is to fight the man...who is taking away all of our civil liberties. Today the Templars were introduced to the crazy stew. Somehow in the course of our "conversation" he said "You know my ancestors built this nation - they were Templars. Do you know what the Templars stand for?" And in my best, most unintended, George Bush I responded "Freedom?". (It was more like John Stewart doing George Bush if you've ever heard it). Well, I guess that's not really what they are about, BUT they are are about beards apparently. He has a scraggly long beard and "it's not just a hippy thing"...he's taken a Templar oath to uphold the legacy of his heritage. Really? I love my job.
Some Good Old Victorian Shizzle
THE THIRTEENTH TALE: Diane Setterfield: Contemporary Gothic
When Margaret Lea, a waif of an antique book collector and amateur biographer, is summoned by the most beloved, and secretive, writer of her time, Ms. Vida Winter, to finally write her true biography she is hesitant to say the least. Winter has a history of supplying false "biographies" and keeping her identity securely locked away. But Winter, on her death bed, begins to reveal her sad and oft times violent tale of growing up at Angelfield and the real story is better than any she has or ever could manufacture. In this process of recording Winters' life, Margaret comes to learn more about herself and her own secret past than she ever expected.
Complete with twisting (and sometimes not so twisting) family trees, obsession, Gothic violence(think Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights), Madness, Love, Loss, and secret pasts this book is a page turner from the beginning. Likened to a Modern day Jane Eyre, this book will certainly keep you guessing and ultimately make you believe in the power of storytelling...and ghosts.
When Margaret Lea, a waif of an antique book collector and amateur biographer, is summoned by the most beloved, and secretive, writer of her time, Ms. Vida Winter, to finally write her true biography she is hesitant to say the least. Winter has a history of supplying false "biographies" and keeping her identity securely locked away. But Winter, on her death bed, begins to reveal her sad and oft times violent tale of growing up at Angelfield and the real story is better than any she has or ever could manufacture. In this process of recording Winters' life, Margaret comes to learn more about herself and her own secret past than she ever expected.
Complete with twisting (and sometimes not so twisting) family trees, obsession, Gothic violence(think Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights), Madness, Love, Loss, and secret pasts this book is a page turner from the beginning. Likened to a Modern day Jane Eyre, this book will certainly keep you guessing and ultimately make you believe in the power of storytelling...and ghosts.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Bad Childhoods make for Good Writers?
THE
While based on a mostly sad childhood, this book doesn’t have an ounce of self pity or really, bitterness. I felt angrier about Walls selfish parents at the end of the novel than she did. To some extent she champions her parents for making life seem like an adventure and teaching her about ‘truth’ as the dedication states. In addition to a memoir of an outrageous childhood, this novel explores the vices that make us human, but also the breaking of unhealthy cycles. A quirky, entertaining read…even if almost ruined by a “Family Christmas Letter” last chapter.
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