Bloody Steve

I had a dream I was eating blueberries last night. The more mundane my dreams get, the weirder they seem to me.

Today is my first day working at the Atlee branch of our library system; the previous tenant of the chair my butt is occupying retired, effective yesterday -- Hi, Susie! But in order to cover all the main libraries with sufficient hours on the reference desk until New Guy© starts on the desk, I was shuffled out of my office in Mechanicsville, and sent here. It's only 5 or 6 miles further for me: the commute is longer, and less direct, but not as bad as it could be. It also means that I will not be expected to travel from branch to branch the way I have been these past few months. I have spent most of my time on the desk in Mechanicsville, of course, but I have also logged time at Atlee and Ashland. That last one is the biggest pain: it's a heck of a drive, and unlike at the other two libraries, reference questions, even of the human library catalog, "Do you have this book?"-sort, are terribly infrequent. It's a nice library, and the area is attractive, everyone is really nice to me, and I actually enjoy the fact that the railroad passes right in front of it. But I would not want to work there full time.

I finished Christopher Moore's The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove yesterday, and am currently trying to decide what I would like to read next. Another Christopher Moore book? Should I revisit Vonnegut for the first time since high school? Should I follow up 1984 by reading Brave New World? The tenth novel I've read in a little over two months, I think: I discovered the key to my reading is to actually make time to read. That may sound self-evident, but it sort of wasn't for me. So instead of blaming my faulty brain chemistry on the fact I don't read, it was just that I wasn't reading. I never claimed to be particularly bright.

You may have noticed I'm trying to take time to write on my blog more frequently, too. I realize that the audience is minimal, but my brain has been feeling ossified and uncreative lately, and I think that the blog helps to get me thinking about things, and organizing my thoughts better. I also think that anything that gets me writing is, in a way, a good thing, barring terrorists pointing a gun at my parents' dog and demanding I blog.

Zoe says: "DON'T LET THE TERRORISTS WIN!!"

I started this monster as a way to entertain myself, so I guess nothing is lost if I keep on in that tradition.

And, to entertain you fine folks this Saturday afternoon, Flight of the Conchords: