Yeah. Me too.
I’ve done what I always do when I’m under a lot of pressure. Run away to the library.
Here, I let you in on a little secret: I don’t like pharmacy. I don’t like pharmacists. I don’t like medical professionals in general.
It, they are all so bland, so dull, so full of their own self-worth and worst of all, the vast, vast majority lack even an inkling of any creativity or interest in the like.
This all makes doing my job somewhat ...
I have a history of these little fits, of disappearing for a while. No, never so long as to actually concern people or, (god-forbid) cut into my work schedule. But sometimes I just need to vanish for a few hours, an evening. And when I do, it is to the library.
There are lots of libraries in Houston, most containing general collections, most musty with under use.
But the library I go to, the library I love is specific to foreign language and cultural studies.
It is, to me, the most perfect place in the world, with the only draw back being that the silence can become so overbearing that it actually hurts, pressing on your ears 'till they ring.
I know I’m not the only person who goes there, the writings on the reading cubicle walls tell me as much, but I’ve never seen more than a fleeting glimpse of someone walking away.
I’ve developed quite the fascination for reading these cubicle walls, knowing full well that I should be offended or horrified, but instead I find myself wishing that who ever had tried to scrub a way some of the older leavings had not.
There are entire religious debates consisting of such inspired arguments as:
“Cause the Bible says so. DUH!” and “All of you should just shut up,” to which someone else had answered, “You shut up. This is a serious issue. ~ Rancho 2003”
No, it never got much deeper than that, yet there was an entire wall devoted to this particular debate. Scattered across the other surfaces were requests for better tips for Hispanic waiters, offers to girls who might want to cyber (email@example.com) and various other statements and/or requests including:
“I don’t want a relationship. I just want to bang, bang, bang.”
Offering a slightly less animalistic view of love, someone else had written, “Can someone one love me, even for a split second, even if it’s a lie?”
A poem, or perhaps lyrics to a song were scribbled in the upper left hand corner, “We are the fossils/relics of our time/motivating the meaningless/of our youth tonight,” to which someone else had answered, “Fuck you,” prompting a third party to comment, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This word is written 87 times on this desk.”
But by far, my favorite was the following old poem:
“Here I sit,
All lonely hearted,
I came to read,
And only farted.”
Only someone had scratched out read and written shit above it, making a third person comment, “He, he, he, har, har, har, ho, ho, ho.”
People do fascinate me, to that I’ll freely admit, but, and this is a very important clause, only at a distance. People up close…never.
I also found a book I really enjoyed, not even making it out of the library before I had finished it. It is called The Changelings and it is the English translation of an old oral Japanese court tale.
It is funny.
And, no, I cannot emphasize that enough. If you ever enjoyed Voltaire, you’d love this.
But having emphasized it so, I feel I must also tell you that it has some decidedly poignant moments when you cannot help but pause in your reading for a few moments and just stare at the wall. Some things don’t change, not even in a 1000 years. Makes one wonder if we really have stopped evolving altogether. Hmmm.
Remind me someday to tell you all about it.
I have a small cut on my tongue and drinking water from the tap makes it burn. I can’t imagine that this is a good sort of burning.