Too Bad

One of these days I will stop thinking of the books I will write, and actually do it.

My latest idea is probably impossible, and it's too bad, because I think it's pretty good.

I have to credit it to my subconscious. I dreamed I wrote a book called Mom's a Bitch, narrated from a father's point of view as he explains to his children their mother's recent departure. While I don't this is marketable, maybe it would appeal to an adult audience. I would have to write under a psydenom, though...somehow I don't think the fact that it was written by a youth librarian would make me very popular.

I hope that one day soon, I will get a more realistic idea.

The End

I think it was my uncomfortable conversation with Mr. 3:36 that contributed to my nightmare the other night. I dreamed a clown wearing a tie dye shirt asked me out, and I said okay even though there are few things I dislike more than hippies or clowns.

I hate the borrowed ideology of contemporary hippies. And I'll admit it, I think the aesthetic is appalling. Don't even get me started on clowns, and the way they pick on audience members, pushing their comfort zones. Mimes are even worse.

I'm so glad the hippie clown was only a dream. I was really disappointed with myself for being so passive in my dream, and prepared when Mr. 3:36 called back. I knew he would. I made an exception to my renaming rule, and entered him into my phone as DON'T ANSWER so I could be warned when he called. He left a message about how I said I'd call him with my schedule and hadn't, and if I didn't want to see him, that was fine, but at least I could be civilized and let him know.

I thought civilized was an interesting choice of words, given that he had hung up on me. I have tried to be direct, I have tried to have an open mind, but the fact is, Mr. 3:36 is a serious alcoholic. I'm not sure he remembers a lot of the things he says and does, which is why it's not worth it to me to remind him that his own behavior towards me has been anything but civilized. I'm done.

Once In A Blue Moon

Unexplainable strange things have been happening. I dreamed I was at a musical, the live premiere of a new Joss Whedon series. I usually don’t like musicals, but this one was great, full of good music and really smart writing.

I was rudely awakened from this dream when a Christian radio station suddenly turned itself on. I have never set the alarm on my Bose, and even if I had set it, that wouldn’t be a station I would choose.

I was annoyed to be wide awake in the middle of the night, a little creeped out, and irritated with myself for becoming increasingly superstitious until I realized that I had composed all the music and written the script of my dream musical. I felt like a genius and went back to sleep.

When I woke up in the morning, my legs itched. I looked down to discover over 20 fleas feasting on me. I never had fleas when I had pets, and now seems like an odd time to get them. They are aggressive little guys who are a lot more into me than I am into them. I set off some bombs this morning, and I hope they are dead by the time I get home from work.

Origin

I'm sure everyone has been dying to know how I became The Angry Librarian.

It's not based in real life at all. I have a temper that I try keep in check most of the time. The angry librarian actually comes from a dream I had my final semester of library school when I was under a lot of stress. I dreamed I was in a really boring class. I was glad when it was time for a break, and left with a group of people I was working on a project with to go to lunch. I waited in a line to order my sandwich for what seemed like an excessively long period of time. I started reading a book while I waited.

At some point, I became aware that somehow the people behind me in line had been able to order their food. I got the attention of the woman taking orders and told her I'd been waiting for a really long time. She smiled at me in a shitty way and told me she hadn't thought I wanted any food because I was so busy reading Seventeen magazine.

I didn't read Seventeen when I was a teenager, I definitely wasn't reading it in my early thirties, and I let the woman know it. She had already moved on to another person behind me in the line. I started yelling at her, and she ignored me. In a desperate attempt to get her attention, I took a stack of books and started hitting her over the head with them. She began to bleed. It looked pretty bad, but head injuries often seem worse than they really are.

A couple of the people I'd come to the deli with rushed over to help her. They decided to take her to the hospital.

It was at this moment that I realized my whole MLS program had been reality t.v. show on the process of becoming a librarian, and that I would forever be known as The Angry Librarian.

Dream On_, Librarianship_,Remembrance of Things Past_

Eat Her Heart Out

Today I remembered a dream I had about 13 years ago. A couple of friends of mine and I ate my grandmother’s heart. This weighed pretty heavily on me, not so much because of what I’d done, but because I hadn’t done it alone. I would have to trust my friends to keep this secret for the rest of their lives.

I finally broke down and told my father what I had done. He was astonishingly understanding, assuring me that everyone did something like that at least once in their lives. He told me not to worry about it.
Remembrance of Things Past_, Dream On_, Bon Appetit_