There are about 80 zillion summer festivals in Chicago every year. That goes from the first breathings of spring all the way to fall, and this year I hardly went to any. In fact, I hardly ever do. But today Jess and I went to Jazz Fest, just for a little bit. It was lovely. Not hot at all, with a breeze off of the lake right behind the stage we were at, and an audience full of the most random collection of people ever. Every race, age, kind of clothing. It was sort of awesome. And with the city looking so pretty and everybody in such a good mood, it makes me think: why would I ever want to leave here?

But sometimes I do. If my parents sell their house here (that won't happen for a good long while now), and move out of state, I'll feel like an orphan. Even if I'm not living here myself. Sort of selfish, but true.

Anyhow. It was a pretty day. The light's starting to change to autumn light, and it's just a good feeling.

Tonight I told Mandie that I thought that FB had supplanted LJ. Not in coolness. Just in how much time I have to check stuff.

New job is okay. Lots of tension there because the women who were already there before Lindsey showed up have been there for about 8 to 20 years, and are pretty much just phoning it in until they can retire. It's a job for them, not a profession. Boy. They did not respond well to me and my young, virile ideas. They especially didn't like it when the kids started to like me. So, it was weird for a while. We had a majorly shitty week last week, and yeah. It was bad. We seemed to have worked things out with the people I have to work directly with, and while I don't trust any of them any further than I can throw them, it's at least no longer a hostile environment. So that's something. I miss some things about my old place, but what this place lacks in modern technology (they still use Corel Word Perfect) and basic innovation (why wouldn't teenagers like watching the movie "Aladdin"? That's a cool flick for the teeny boppers, right?), they make up for in other ways. Pay's better, nobody brings guns into the library (that I know of) and I haven't been called a bitch by an outraged preteen yet. Well, to my face, while they run screaming out of the library after I tell them they can't hit other patrons.

Sigh. If anybody wants an idea for a TV show, I have one. A reality TV dramedy set in a library. There are a lot of feelings there.

It's cool and rainy here right now. Sweater weather. I'm thinking of apple picking in Michigan this September. Don't you love that smell? You know the one I'm talking about. Apples in a bushel on a brisk day. Then a bigass 32 egg omelet at the Country Kitchen afterward.

Ah, youth...

Gotta go to bed now.

Sometimes I wonder what I would need to make myself happy. I read somewhere that Gen Xers tend to think happiness is their birthright. Is that good or is that bad? But whatever it is, maybe it's not doable. I have moments of happiness mixed in with general contentment. I have moments of unhappiness mixed in with general contentment. I tend to get by on a steady of nostalgia and yearning. I think that's generally what gets me in trouble. Sometimes I think my heart doesn't work properly, because I think about love, and I sometimes want it, but when I really think about it, I think I need a protective moat around me, just a very very slight one, filled with that Dr. Scholls' foot pad gel stuff. I can't stand people all up in my space. I hate it. And it seems like you can't just broker a relationship where you step into that comfortable space and silence right away. But maybe that's not true. The second I think it isn't true, the moment I almost certainly believe it is.

I just read Mandie's journal. It's making me feel alternately very sober and very flighty. As in my heart feels like it's flying around.

So, the new job seems okay. There is a LOT to do. The library has lots of money, but they exist in this weird-ass vacuum. Our department's got the crappiest cataloging, the most ridiculous organization, and hasn't been updated in about a zillion different ways. For example: the computers still have Corel Word Perfect on them. The email they use doesn't allow for the opening of attachments. Makes me feel like I'm taking crazy pills.

But I'll learn a lot. And I'll get to do a lot. So, despite the resistance that I think exists on the part of something like 60% of the people in that department, I think it's a good thing. I'll make it one.

In other news, I'm the last of my friends in my immediate circle of friends to be single. The single state doesn't really bother me. But I feel like there's an unspoken shift now. Maybe I'm imagining it...I sort of don't think I am.

I like to think I'm not so bad with nature. Generally speaking, I think I could survive for at least a little while out there in the wilderness, provided there were no serial killers or crazed bears stalking me. But today, our Rudy gave me pause. We have a garden alongside our fence, and it's pretty overgrown -- there's a big fat hydrangea bush there, along with tons of daylilies, and peonies, and bleeding hearts -- all things that grow up very densely. And it's our belief that there's a family of rabbits who have created a warren there. (Not a Mandie Warren, but almost as good.)

When I was in Prague, Rudy apparently went on a killing spree and got a litter of baby bunnies before we could get to him to stop. I say we, even though I was many many miles away. The Royal Rakowski We, I guess. We try to keep an eye on him, but...

So today I called him in, and he wouldn't come up the stairs. I called a few more times, and then he picks something up (hardly a surprise, as he enjoys bringing his treasures in and out of the house -- rawhide bones marinated in the garden for a few days), and trots up the stairs. And I see that it's not a toy, but a little bunny. And it's dead. And I run in the house ahead of him, hollering.

We wound up putting a bucket over the poor thing until my father got home to deal with it. I feel bad for that bunny. They're taking a risk living in our yard -- we have the best yard for wildlife on the block, I'd wager. The most plants and vegetables, along with plenty of good places to hide. There's sweet grass growing alongside the tomatoes, because it springs up faster than we can weed it. There's plenty of exit strategies, too. But there's Rudy and Lou, fearless defenders of the joint.

I hollered, and I wouldn't let Rudy put his face near mine, and truth be told, I think I offended him. I guess I can't handle nature as well as I like to think I could. The other day I was on campus and a particular aggressive squirrel didn't move as I walked by him, but rather came moving toward me, and I freaked out, and I opened my umbrella at him and screeched. While some undergrad kid was watching me. Such is life, I suppose. Now Rudy's laying on my bed, looking at me reproachfully. I have to remember that sometimes dogs will remember their roots.


He looks so innocent...

UGH. Summer colds can go to hell. I have a fever, and I can't stop sniffling, or just outright blowing my schnoze. My mother actually walked into the room and said, "Oh, is the circus in town?" That's cold, Mom. That is COLD.

I can't wait for this semester to be over, which will be on Wednesday. Today something so uncomfortable happened in class that the instructor felt compelled to send out an email to the class, asking everybody to remember that we were in a classroom, and that we all had to dial it down a little. Here's what happened. This is a storytelling class, see, and so we work on all kinds of materials and programs. This week we've been doing personal stories and this really bizarre girl gets up and she tells a story about back when she was a student patroller at college, and it was Mother's Day weekend, and she got called to investigate this van from which there was all kind of noise and giggling. Know what the punchline of the story was? These two guys decided to celebrate Mother's Day by "banging" each other's mothers. Everybody sort of let out a noise of shock, and it was insanely awkward. Yeah, inappropriate.

But you know what surprised me? How shocked I personally felt. Sometimes I think I might be kind of a prude. Well, no. Not a prude, but rudeness really bugs me. I guess that includes social niceties and decorum.

Tomorrow's class is gonna be weird.

So, yesterday was my last day at my library, and on Thursday, I start my new gig at another. I'm pretty happy about it, to be honest. Pretty relieved. The old job was getting to be a grand drag -- routinely being dismissed by my new boss, condescended to, and just generally intercepting her hostility was actually less fun than it sounds. I sort of struggled with what to say at my exit interview, with whether or not to say something, and I did wind up doing so. Maybe that will come back to bite me in the ass, but I tried to say it in a tactful way, in a constructive way, and hopefully it will make life better for the people I'm leaving behind. I don't think I'm imagining how bad it got. And I know that every single person in that department feels discouraged. So, I don't know. I just hope saying the things I said means that it will get better.

I just want to do everything. I want to try to make a name for myself in this field, and that sort of surprises me. Sometimes I feel like I gave up on that vision of the future I had for myself back in Kalamazoo. I don't know what I thought I would do -- be a college teacher, be a publishing writer. I'm not saying the publishing writer thing can't happen. I still write, but I think I've let go of that old image of what that means. And it's made room for all this new stuff. I like being an advocate for literacy. I like finding the best book for a person's taste, situation and needs. I like forwarding the cause of the book. This has been sort of a lucky accident, finding this path.

So, I gotta go to class right now. Storytelling class. It's as fun as it sounds.

So, I haven't been super-posty lately. Things have been kind of nuts, and I don't know. I had things to say, but, yeah.

I'm switching jobs. My old boss hired me at her new library, and I'm really excited. My current boss (at the library I'm about to leave) has been treating me like crap pretty much ever since she took over. I can't figure out why. I can't figure out if she's bi-polar, stupid, or threatened. But whatever she is, I have absolutely no reason to put up with it. The truth is, I feel like she's been trying to push me out. I get the sense that no matter what her issue is, she simply doesn't like me. So at my new place, I'll be working with somebody who respects my ideas, my time, my efforts, and teaches me a lot about the profession in a way that urges me to be creative. So, I'm pretty psyched.

Monday's my last day at my current place. I've been saying good-bye to patrons all week, and I know some folks will come in on Monday. I feel like I'm going to be missed, and that makes me feel like I did a good job while I was there. No matter what hell happened to make things so messy for me there, I can feel proud of that.

On Monday, I have my exit chat. I don't know what to say. The director is generally not great at listening to what his employees say. And I don't want it to backfire on me. The library world is very small. But on the off chance that it will actually help the other people in my department who are putting up with our boss's intense condescension, erratic behavior (one morning she was breaking up with her boyfriend over Facebook messaging -- I know because she was using my computer to try and "teach" me how to run a report, and then wound up hijacking the GD thing for three hours), and general incompetence, I feel like I need to say something, and in a way that won't look like sour grapes.

Blah. Moving on to greener pastures, Komarads.

School wrapped up last week (thank Jeebus) and this week I've got a weeklong break from school before I have an intensive month. It's incredible what a load off that is. I'm more or less doing the things that I've been putting off for about 200 years. For example, attacking my crafty pile. Making curtains for my bedroom (still can't choose the fabrics I want...). Not thinking about anything too hard.

And today, the dog beach. Rudes and Lou and I drove downtown and up Lake Shore Drive to Wilson Beach, where the dogs party like rock stars. I love those little pups. I sat on the beach and watched Lou try to get a split tennis ball that was stuck in the sand about a foot or so deep in the water, while Rudy barked at him. Rudy really likes order -- Lou was not doing exactly what Rudy wanted, see. Lou would get frustrated and come sit on my leg, all the while staring at the spot where he thought the tennis ball was, then go back to it. Rudy inspected all dogs who came our way. I chitty-chatted with other dog owners and pet their dogs, and the weather was perfect. About 75 degrees, maybe, and the clouds parted to give us some sun. It was great. So maybe the dog beach is one other thing I like about summer.

This was one of those days where you don't want anything. You just have what you have and you are what you are, and it's all just fine. Other days lately have felt like a string of stepping stones that I keep having to place for myself. I barely look up on those days. I'm going to go have some dinner and watch a movie, piled on the floor with my dogs.

Yes.

Things are going pretty well lately. Let me list some things:

1. The first summer term is almost over, and I could not be happier about it. This was a long, hard month. I took collection management (yes, the business of managing your collection -- it really is a thing), and it was just sort of this constant barrage of complicated information and procedures. But on Thursday, it will be finito.

2. I just interlibrary loaned a crapload of soul music -- The Staple Singers, The Impressions, Sam & Dave. It just sounds SO good. such a great thing to have coming through the speakers in the summertime.

3. I've kind of been ensconced in Austen world lately. Reading spinoffs, re-imaginations of her life, scholarship. I don't care what anybody says about Jane Austen. She was the balls. Deal with it. To the type of person stupid enough to say that Austen should have been bolder, go eff yourself. She stuck to her principles no matter what. We should all of us be so brave.

4. I just found an awesome book called "How to Make Books", by Esther Smith. I am stupidly excited.

5. It's in the ninties here all of a sudden. At least it's good for the tomato crop. They're starting to sprout flowers!

6. I think I need to return to yoga. My balance is for poop!

7. My dad is turning 60 this year. How is my Dad 60? How am I almost 30?