Watching LSU football with Lauren. I think I want to start writing on here some more. I have a few ideas as far as creativity goes. Me and L painted some pictures last weekend, that was fun. I haven't picked up a guitar just yet, but I have listened to music. I am back to thinking about investing in some music making software. it is too easy now to trade pieces of sound with your friends. Easy to say, yes. Not so to get off my ass and do.

My job is a challenge, one which I relinquish( I would like to add here that a day removed from this blog I decided to actually check out the definition for the word "relinquish." It is only now that my sad ass realizes it means "To let go." I meant...embrace). There has been anxiety, but I feel like that is my learning curve. Keeping everything together. I have ideas for my library. I have planned some programming, but I need to keep this up. Part of me feels like I started too early, like I need to hold some ideas back. I am still learning the ins and outs of running a library. Things that should eventually take second nature: Scheduling, staying on top of policy, etc...
Some days I feel I have in 100%, other days, there is an uncertainty. But again, the challenge. I enjoy it. I may possibly start book club, wondering if I want to invest the time to read.
Currently reading some easy non fiction. Finished a great book called Tinker by Paul Harding. An old man is dying, and his the last few days of his life, his mind races through thoughts of his past, and that of is father and his father. His memories weave with theirs and is in an organic way, going from first to third person.
I want to read Jonothan Franzen's new book, but so do several of my patrons! That makes me happy, I want to get more books that these patrons like, build up a literary culture. I should put together a small survey for those that read modern literature, build a collection. Luckily we have a good collection development librarian, and our collection is sound. I think I may someday want to work as a liaison with different departments in an academic library. But I do enjoy working with the public.
So many aspects of this job I can improve on!

Running some, whatever, couple times a week. Rode my bike around campus tonight, listening to drunks yell and scream. It was scary really, there around state street where the meth heads dress like the frat boys. The look the same, but the light shows darkness within their faces. In like to get there 1000th beer. Spaces between their teeth. "Hey rider!" they yell. "Want a beer?" But are they talking to me, or each other? The invitation is false. Its for your lunch money in your pocket, you bike, you teeth and blood.
There were rumors of a group of meth heads down here who would think nothing of sticking a knife in your arm, and sucking its blood like vampires. My first year here they found two girls from Theta Alpha dead behind the Tiger Den Apartments. Their bodies looked like they were drained and stuffed with formaldehyde. They said there were no restraint marks on the girls, no abrasions. Just two small holes. This rumor came and was thrust into darkness two months later when LSU won the national championship game.

WE stood for about 15 minutes staring out at the sea. It was February, and the air had a clean feeling. Though only about 60 degrees, the wind kept a nice chill to the air. Some surfers braved the much colder water in wetsuits, trying to catch something of the winter waves.

I used an old camera of my dad's to try to make the afternoon more memorable; it wasn't needed. My amateur photography was shakey, but it was fun getting you to pose with the ocean behind you. It was fun playing with the aperture, and the focus. It was fun walking around holding hands.

We ordered a can of beer from a concession stand and paid the two dollars to walk along the boardwalk. The obvious feeling of infinity, staring out among the sea. I had a small notebook and scrabbled out this nonesence, more proof of my lack of growth as a writer of any kind:

Can this be exactly what I had planned all along
Had I somehow known exactly what I was doing,
Amidst all that turmoil in my mind? Fake catastrophes, moments holding on to dear life, the bottom of the floor, staring at the cheap tan carpet.
I moved alone after all. I took some risk, for myself anyway...
and it looks like its panning out.
This final embark,
from nothing to the end of the earth

colors stare back at you, but only quick, really quick like, so that you register nothing.
In your head everything is going a little faster, air is warm, and you are uncomfortable.

Forever ago in this very same heat,
I packed up everything I had and headed south.
I stuffed envelopes full of my dreams and buried them in my yard.

I cut off my beard, and put it with my buried envelopes.
I arrived at my destination just fine,
only two days later did I cry so much it hurt.

Those envelopes under the ground at my parents house,
Deep below my father's garden.

They sit idle.

Forever ago,
the only cool room,
behind bedsheets, box fans blowing.
Cool beer making condensation on the tattered old wooden floor.
Making shorts.
Scissors lain on their sides,
a pair of pants folded in half,
contemplation of the right size.

Lulled to sleep,
the warm breeze allowed inside,
so I can hear the rain on the front of the house.

My legs starting to stick to the sheets,
I keep my eyes shut against the light.
I can remember being able to sleep better during the day.

I focus everything on the black behind my lids,
Turning the absence of color into dark reds, blues, and purples.

Tiny stars form just outside of my view,
I try following them,
reaching outward towards the one closest to my hand.
My focus is weak.

Drifting back to my room, i sit up.
Angered that my nap is over.

In last june I arrived at the library ten minutes early. There was no reason for me being there early. I had misjudged the amount of time it would take me to pull of I12 and get a cup of coffee from the McDonalds in Gonzales, and pulled up just as my coffee was getting cool enough to take my first sip without causing white flashes of pain that stayed on my tongue like your shadows on the wall under artificial lighting.
Arriving before Salina, I opened up the doors and flipped on all the lights. I turned on our computers, secretly praying that the one fault one had been ripped and cleaned since I had taken my vacation. Sometimes things move slow down here, from the local government, to the tech guy at the local library.
It was after I turned on the lights in the computer room that I first heard the silent squealing sound coming from the Non Fiction row: the 741's...graphic novels. The hair on my arms stretched towards my sweater, creating tiny pathways for electric current.
"Who," I half shouted out, just as the lights went off with a loud CRACK!

It was summer, so the sun was out well before the 7:15 that I found myself in. But it was the dark gray June clouds that held back the light from the windows lining the upper part of the wall, just behind the shelves of paper backs and romance novels. The only trace of light now came from the lightening storm, miles away, but close enough to spare traces of white hot purple glows surrounding the walls.
CRACK!

Again! The lights were already off! What was causing the sound! Walking quickly towards the door, I felt a heavy grasp onto my leg, stumbling!
"Ayye," but before the sound could come out of my mouth the lights came on brightly!