So I have found another book I can not finish. I got a third of the way through it before the gross inaccuracies made me want to toss it into the trash can. The book is trying to tell a story of a forger, but it wants to blame his actions on his religion. Would it affect me so deeply if his family didn't happen to be Mormon? Perhaps. Most certainly if I knew anything about that religion. He is writing it in such a way that it sounds like a novel, but then he goes on and on about what the Mormons believe, confusing some offshoots of the religion with the main group and referring to the church as the Church of Latter Day Saints. He left out three words (of Jesus Christ). Then he claims at one point that someone who served a mission in the church had to read anti-Mormon literature to hear about something that is on page (let me look in my own scriptures real quick), oops, it doesn't have a page number, but it is the second page after the title page. And that was about the eleventh inaccuracy I found in about five pages. I would have probably found more, but on some subjects I have little or no knowledge at this point, probably because I am not ready to dig that deep into doctrine. I admit, I don't know everything. Oy, will people ever learn to think for themselves?

This book, as well as the twenty other books that I have cataloged this week which tell people how they should feel about different subjects, make me worry. We live in a society where we expect people to tell us what to do, say, believe, and feel. That would explain why people tell me, "You don't do that because you're Mormon." Yes, my religion tells me not to drink alcohol, but I don't follow it blindly. I am well aware of what alcohol does to people. Have you walked down the streets of this town on a Friday night and watched people puking in gutters, stumbling out in front of moving cars, and showing no level of decorum as they scream whatever is on their mind out into the already overburdened air? Yes, my religion tells me not to smoke. Have you ever hiked with a smoker and had to stop while they quietly hacked up a lung? Now was this someone who was otherwise quite healthy and younger and more fit than you? Yes, my religion tells me not to have sex before I am married. Why do I need to try out the goods? I don't intend to get married for a good lay. Marriage requires a lot more than a fun time between the sheets--for instance, mutual respect, ability to communicate, common interests. When I am ninety years old, I want to find my husband as exciting as I did the day he first took my hand and smiled into my eyes, and, I don't know about you, but at ninety, I think my libido may not be awake. Do I have to point out the possible outcomes of premarital sex? I could go on for hours, but I won't.

I admit that some people of my faith even believe things that I don't, but that is because we are human. None of us is perfect or why would we need to be here? We also have the freedom to choose to believe or not to believe. If someone allows themselves to feel compelled to do or say something they don't believe, then I pity them. I understand where they are coming from to an extent, but I have the freedom to seek my own answers to questions. Anyone who has been around me too long knows that I have moments where I say nothing to avoid hurting other people's feelings, but if Lil' Susie annoys me and I don't want to be her bestest friend, I am not going to invite Lil' Susie over for brunch and risk hurting her more if she finds out that chewing gum and skateboards really aren't the two most important things in my life.

So I have ranted more than anyone really wants to read. What a way to start a new month of journaling, eh? Tomorrow may bring with it new books and more excitement. Of course, at the rate we're going, I may have to dig a tunnel through the books to find my desk. Yes, they gave me some books. Apparently, they wanted to give me as many books as I have fiche on my desk. They just didn't take into account the size difference. Anyway, keep rocking on.

I can't help but make comments such as, "I just wish I was young enough to get by with it" sometimes. Today it was because the cutest little kid was licking the glass in the ice cream store in front of me. He also got peach ice cream with gummy bears. Now, when I was young, I would have loved that, but today, I balked a little. And then, being old, I ruined it all. I wondered how they could test a small child for glasses if they probably don't know all their letters. Sad, eh

So I only made a brief update on Saturday. This is because I spent so much time running around that I didn't have time to update this lovely work. The reference to ice cream came from a brief visit with Miss Kewl. I had to drag her kicking and screaming away from the most exciting homework grading you can imagine, but I did succeed in having her all to myself for a while. We visited a moose who was more than willing to sell me a tuna sandwich and a happy hippie salad. I am part hippie, somewhere deep inside. I am just not into that free love and drugs mentality, but I think the world should know by now that there is more to a hippie than tie-dye and bellbottoms.

We also enjoy organic fruits and berries. Some of us even celebrate our first oversize book. I am celebrating my first three today, actually. I celebrated by having lunch with a friend and going to Family Home Evening. Some talk came up about me marketing some of the games I make. *shrug* I make them for fun, not for money. Taking advantage of people like me is how the rest of the world feels they have redeemed themselves. In the meantime, too much to do and far too little time despite finishing a shirt and a quilt this morning.

Me on an art book around 7:20 am this morning: "You could study this stuff forever and never learn to draw."

We live in a world where we study to become who we are meant to be. We cram so much information into our heads that it eventually just washes out in our tears of frustration. Then we stand there empty waiting for the world to breathe us back into life, in the image that society dictates.

Who we are meant to be is not something we should have to study. I have known since I was about ten that I wanted to be a librarian and a writer. I have known since I was about thirteen that I can not help but be a poet. I have no special training to be this and so much more, I just am. People ask me to teach them how to do this or how to do that. How can I not sound vain and pompous in saying, it just makes sense to me like breathing. But that is too much and more, isn't it? It always is.

Today at work, we decided to start the afternoon off with a dramatic reading. I highly recommend the book Knuffle Bunny: A Cautionary Tale. It reminds us that we should not leave our friends behind. Besides the book is cute and has a happy ending. I have always been a sucker for happy endings. I am also a sucker for books. My truck at work is now absolutely full of them again. It has been a good day in the Cataloging department. Soon they will begin to disappear and I will return to my darling microfiche.

Even outside of work, I have a million projects going at once. My brain has even started pondering Christmas presents. I don't want to be sitting there at the last minute trying to decide what to make for people again. With some luck, I may even be able to scrape together enough money to actually buy a couple of people things I know they'll like better than the little bundles of oddness that I make. I love them, the truly sentimental love them, but some of my friends aren't into mushy sentimentality. Can you imagine?

And this website needs so much love. I haven't even scraped the surface of getting it up to my high standards. Overlook the fact that I have more dead than living links. Overlook the fact that the pages I have put up are not anywhere near what I want them to be. Overlook the fact that I probably have typos that no one has told me about. You still get a website that could be so much more if I devoted a little more time to it. Instead I am updating the journal because I have an hour until I should head out to class, a phone that should have rang by now, and somewhere two demonic cats who want to jump on my laptop and snuggle its keys. Let's see what I can do with an ounce of motivation, shall we?

The more I work on my website, the more I realize how I really do a lot and get very little appreciation for it. A "thank you" or a smile is good from time to time, but even those of us who despise money wouldn't mind a little financial appreciation from time to time. I have so many friends who constantly ask me for advice, input, help, whatever and then think "oh, thank you" is enough when they profit from whatever I helped to create. It saddens me. It makes me wonder. Am I like that?

Do I ask you for things continuously? Do I ask for things and then get mad that you won't just give them to me? Do I offer to pay you for something and when you hand it over or spend the time on it, suddenly decide I am not interested or it isn't worth my money? Do I absolutely refuse to take no for an answer and then get offended when you mention it?

I need more books about knuffle bunnies. To be honest, my work mommy is right, I need a vacation. Such a pipe dream of the idle rich or those who would rather be rich than proficient, capable, and content where my work is concerned or those who have no problems with overcharging people. Oh well, it doesn't matter, so I get up every morning because I don't want to sit around the house with the cats which is all I can afford to do with a day off. You can imagine that excitement.

More sad news. The Ralph to my Sam, The Ubbo to my Senorita Estrella will be leaving us on Friday. We may yet build that anti-acquisitions fort near the elevator. We can launch packing paper snowballs and, if all else fails, we can just hide under our desks. I will be amid three empty cubicles, empty except for the books that are trying to take over. Ah, I must go now.

It is another Thursday. As typical as any other Thursday on which I have graced this earth or cursed it depending on who you talk to. If memory serves me correctly, one of my friends is getting married today. Another beautiful bride will commit herself to a man who respects her, loves her, and wants to spend eternity making a life with her. Isn't that sweet?

We also had a double celebration today. Miss Sherry celebrated a birthday and we were wishing Barbara luck in her new endeavors. I read that lovely book about Knuffle Bunny to a bunch of full-fledged adults. I believe they were all impressed with my great skills. Almost as impressed as they were with the word games I created for our enjoyment. If someone wants to buy me my own copy of the Knuffle Bunny book, feel free to do so.

The rest of the day was spent cataloging books. This means that from time to time, I would find a picture or snippet of words that made me think or disturbed me beyond reason. One book had a chapter entitled, "If you love someone, chase them down and kill them". I found that disturbing, not as disturbing as pictures from the era of the Civil Rights' movement. In a country built on freedom, we spend a lot of time proving ourselves to be hypocrites. The laws that protect the innocent put the innocent most in fear of losing their rights. Sad, isn't it?

I will soon be leaving to shimmy the night away. In the meantime, I shall continue to fight against the absence of links on this lovely website. I should point out that this should take months for each link *wink*. In the meantime, I shall keep working on it.

Who would have thought Tears for Fears was singing that song about Bella, the Queen of Hearts? Chained down by my own love for life, laughter, ladies, lords, and loyalty. I could break these chains. I could loose myself from this, but chained down on the other side seems to be so much that will be lost if these chains break. I will fall into a vat of water and come out dripping but alive and able to start again. The rest will fall into a vat of acid and be burnt away. Terrible the way that works, isn't it? Or is it just my own conceit? Perhaps, I am not needed here, after all. Maybe, I value myself too much. No worries because most of the time, I am the only one.

I just want to go completely mad, completely free of the constrictions of society. I want to pull my car over by the side of the road because I can smell the perfume of the flowers, so delicate and sweet. I want to dance in nature's perfume, breathing it in while an old song plays on the radio and the hobbitmobile's engine purrs. I want to dance in the headlights, alone with my veils. I want to be lost in the moment, so lost that I even lose myself and all this tension that binds me rigid to my chair, keyboard at my hand and images in my head that could bring no one the peace that they bring me (as much as they may imagine and repeat or rephrase my words later, claiming they never saw or heard them). Instead, I drive home, chain myself down, slip under the sheets, and try to sleep while Ziggy continuously slaps my chest in a ploy for attention like so many others who don't realize how close to death I come every day just trying to give them enough to warrant one smile before my illusion fades and my chains strangle me.

Ah, but there is no time for such thoughts as these. It is Friday. The sun is out. The world is full of light and life. The library is full of books and the piles that were ubiquitous days ago have begun to be dispelled by the industrious workers of the Cataloging Department. It is even believed that the room was left more empty than when the week began, and not because someone has left us. That is a different kind of emptiness that we feel far too often these days, isn't it?

To participate in Bella's water treatment, you must choose your path. For the first option, you must simply sit by the side of the pool. As soon as a water canon is available, Bella will shoot some glorious pool water your way. This is very soothing, cooling and inspirational. The recipient of this treatment did find his way into the pool, clothes and all.

The second treatment requires a little more work on your part. You have to get in the water and cleanse your nasal passages. You do this by snorting chlorinated water straight up your nose. Yes, this is painful, but it cleans your nose right out.

The water goddess did enter the water for the first time in two years. It may be addictive though, so be wary. You may find me snorkeling in the marsh that is my front lawn. Okay, maybe I won't go that far, but something interesting is sure to happen soon, right?

Indeed, as every man in my department knows, it is flag day. Luckily, I have a flag and have it displayed or I may have been drummed right out of the office. Of course, I admit I didn't know today was flag day when I started out. I thought it was book day like every other day. Somehow, despite this, I know that a month from today is Bastille Day. This will make sense to all the Frenchies. I also know it is easier to sew a French flag than our beautiful Stars and Stripes (go figure). And I know that Gordon B. Hinkley's birthday is coming up next week. Who's Gordon B. Hinkley? Come on.

I seem to be full of poetry today. It keeps slipping from my mind's lips like blood from an open wound. Terrible analogy? Or just more of me slipping away into words no one will read and understand? Not much different from my average day, of course. Then again, people seem to like me pointing out they are repeating what I just said even less than me sitting silently by and saying nothing. But is it plagiarism, mockery, inattention, flattery, or just rudeness? Who is to say?

And if you read those words and feel touched for a moment, have I written well? A writer writes that their thoughts may be born again and again each time they are read. But sometimes they give birth to bastards who were not meant to be born because the reader chooses to twist them and take away the eternal vows of word to meaning.

We all read a bit too much into things from time to time. Most of us recognize this fact and try to temper our assumptions a bit. Others just keep assuming the impossible. For instance, my life is no fairy tale. No fairy godmother taps the books and makes them dance and process themselves for me. Anything beautiful or enviable that I have, I assure you I earned. Even in my own way, I earned the lovely hobbitmobile (by fighting it into submission almost every time I drive it anywhere). None of this has much to do with current events though. It's just the state of my world. And with that, I better go check the state of my pillow.

So the world continues to spin. I checked out a couple of books for variety. After looking at them day in and day out, I just had to take some pity on them and let a few out of the library. Some of the books we get may never ever be outside the library's walls. Feel free to come on by and take pity on them by checking them out. You can explore everything from uniquely disturbing poetry to books about Bonnie and Clyde.

In other news, my cat loves to take naps in the afternoon. So do I. This, of course, results in not accomplishing much, but that is the closest thing I ever get to a vacation. Mmmm. Sleep.

Upon entering the great home of books, I found myself faced with more books than I left on Thursday. In my absence, people took pity on the empty side of my cart and put some books on it. I fear my fiche may be missing me. In the meantime, I find myself flipping though the books and wondering why on earth I thought that would be wise. For fun, you should randomly walk through the library, grab a book and flip through it. It will be fun. Go ahead, put it on your "to do" list.

So the real excitement of the evening was the adoration shown to cookie queens or owners of cute hobbitmobiles. I pulled into the church parking lot and found a little girl observing me from the grass near the old folks' home. After I pulled in, slipped her into park, turned off the engine, and grabbed the pile of books that were my passengers, I turned to open my door. Sounds like a simple task, but it proved to be tricky.

The aforementioned little girl was standing at my door. I believe she actually tried to open it for me. I waited patiently and her grandmother came to rescue me. I proceeded to bribe her with a cookie. I just like to spread happiness and the addiction to my cookies. Soon people across the country will be addicted to my cookies. Then I can move them on to the harder stuff offered at Miss Kewl's Cookie Palace, but we won't get into that.

So I woke up yesterday with a deep and pressing urge not to move, not to roll over, not to pick up the phone and call into work. I fear that I am getting old or my muscles are trying to force me to take up exercise. I could just need a new mattress, but that would require me to have a little bit more money to spend. I will get around to it eventually, won't I?

So while I was lying around wondering about muscle pain and such, I was approached with a curious proposition. My number 2 and number 3 Lauras were taking a little road trip, and getting lost on the road is no fun without me. Perhaps, they were hoping to end up in Fairmont or had heard rumors of my running commentary being amusing. Anyway, I finally consented to join them for a brief jaunt to Pittsburgh. Four hours, one group prayer and 20 personal, silent prayers later, we finally arrived at the Cheesecake Factory.

No, it is not a factory full of elves who just pump out cheesecake. They do offer other delicious meals and three whole pages of alcoholic beverages. I was a little afraid I was never going to find the pages where the food was listed. I persisted and was rewarded with a choice of salads--one of which sounded very much like the infamous Santa Fe gorditas whose loss I lament each time I go to Taco Bell. The salad was delicious and the two different types of cheesecakes we tried were also quite yummy and have settled in nicely about my hips with the last six fattening things I decided to fill my body with. Ah, but the taste was worth it. Mmmmmm.

This was followed by Institute class and drinking lots of water. Actually, we were playing a game that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am not as aggressive as I think I am. My cats did enjoy the floor show of me racing to the bathroom in a deep state of half-asleep. This would be the state where I trip over the cats, flail about a bit, and finally get to the bathroom just in time to avoid being completely awake and very unhappy.

Entering my cubicle was like Christmas all over again. I found a truck full of books awaiting my attention. Of course, one of the integral pieces of software for processing these books decided not to work, so I had to flip the cart around and work on another project. I must admit my days are never dull. I haven't even touched fiche in weeks. I still have my mad fiching skills, however, which I demonstrated in a card game last night. Never say you don't learn new skills from your job.

After my afternoon nap, I managed to make it to Enrichment. We potted plants. Let us see how many days until I forget about them and they die, shall we? And another deep thought (or planted seed): "Our children are not going to be just "our children"--they are going to be other people's husbands and wives and the parents of our grandchildren." ~Mary S. Calderone (1904-1998): Physician and educator

So I awoke this morning to realize that I was running late again. Some days it is just so hard to drag my little hobbit body into my pillowesque bed, and when I finally get there, the cats attack me and beg for affection. Well, anyone who has met Ziggy knows that she does not beg. The little queen demands affection and if it is not forthcoming, she is willing to poke some holes in you with those charming fangs. So after I had finally cocooned myself into my covers and turned my back on her, she did consent to let me sleep. I still had to speed through my morning routine, but I made it to work in a timely manner to find...

No one brought new books to my desk in that brief time that I had deserted it. Another set of headphones has mysteriously died on me, however. I really do begin to think the janitors like to slam things down on my desk. I can not imagine what would possess them to do this, but the janitors at the library have been historically good for a story, from appropriating other people's shoes to eating candy from people's desks to the famous janitor who got drunk one night and was wheeling a desk down High Street on one of the book trucks. In other words, I don't put anything past them.

Just to keep you all completely posted. The Hayride is coming up. Of course, this year, we are going to have a new twist on the haunting of Morgantown. Oh yes. You'll be amazed, appalled, excited, and scared. We do try our best and it supports a good cause. Why do I bring this up? Because we are already plotting and planning and preparing. We take that much pride in our work.

And because I am horribly petty and this is your one semi-reminder of the obvious, I have updated my wishlist for some reason yet to come.

I went for another of my delightful drives in my incredibly sexy hobbitmobile. As luck would have it, I met up with some interesting characters. These were some of the esteemed members of the Suicidal Squirrels Society. They like to congregate on roads that say things like Old Route and wait. They wait patiently until they see someone driving by at a reasonable rate of speed and then leap out in front of them. The hobbitmobile always gets their attention. Unfortunately for them, I do not like to run over little woodland creatures and all their attempts to commit suicide came to naught.

So what was the purpose of this drive? A visit to the family diva's convention. We got together and chatted merrily, pumped ourselves full of sugar, and celebrated a birthday. We were only a few months behind, and I may never look at monkeys the same way again, but we certainly had fun.

I got to meet my great uncle, who was so tall he must be adopted, and observe that the women in the family tend to be true hobbits. Assuming that my camera works, I may even have some proof about all of this. One of my cousins is even a golfer. She also has perfect posture. She somehow managed to fall asleep despite the excitement of our conversations. I'd say more, but among our conversations was how people read journals. My great aunt allegedly is quoted as saying, "Forgive me for I have sinned" in hers. Tehehe. Keep wishing you knew.

So I spent more time yesterday trying not to hit furry woodland creatures with my car. A kitty cat even tried to sneak up under my tires, but I foiled them all by not driving quite fast enough to splat them. The hobbitmobile was very helpful with this, or it could have been the carburetor that was so kind as to save them from their own suicidal nature. Of course, to get to this intriguing wildlife retreat, I had to drive along a somewhat uninteresting stretch of road. The beginning of my journey was excellent, however, because for the first 15-20 minutes, I had the most wonderful view of the aforementioned and delicious Mitsubishi Eclipse (circa 2005) that I love so much. This was until some one who felt I was driving too slow inserted himself into my safe following distance. It intrigued me that two minutes after her did this, the Eclipse turned around and went back in the opposite direction.

So, I reached my first destination and my mother refused to let me kidnap her. People can be so contrary when they are not feeling well. My brother was in hiding, and thus I made the magic journey by myself. Upon arriving, I found the same cousins that I had just met the day before. They were lounging on the grass. The menfolk were watching television (golf, in fact) or playing gameboy while the women did what women in our family do best, admiring pictures. I decided to look through the pictures. Judging from those pictures, my great aunt missed her calling as a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, and I need to get a picture of me on the hood of the Omni to keep in with the family tradition. We can make any car look sexy *wink*. I will seriously consider this after I give the Omni a bath.

After a while, even more family members showed up. I had met most of them before since it was my two aunts, their husbands, and most of their children. We proceeded to divide into groups that I like to think of as competitive card players and non-competitive card players. I joined the non-competitive in a game of Rummy that I somehow managed to win. In some cases, not really caring seems to work out well for me.

We also did what hobbits do best. We sat around and ate and ate some more. One of my young cousins even foisted off a piece of key lime pie on me that she didn't want. We also set off some fireworks. This would explain my Uncle Chuck who is way too tall to be a hobbit, perhaps. He must be a wizard (that or a treasure troll). Luckily, while some of the youngsters were quite merry, they had no Pippin to encourage them to try to blow something up.

After that, we finally got around to taking the Miss Universe pageant to my mother's house. This was a much shorter spout of festivities as it was now quite late. Needless to say, I did not arrive home until midnight when I crashed so I could get up this morning and make my way to the house of knowledge. What wonders will this evening hold?

We'll never let you know you hurt us. We'll stand there smiling with one hand clutching our wounds, staunching the blood that wants to flow so freely, while the other is wrapped around the shoulders of the one who just stabbed us. We won't lop off our breasts to shoot our bow better though. Figuratively, society has already done that, making that more important than the essence of the woman. We will fight for you, slave for you, and in the end realize that we didn't need you nearly as much as you needed us. Not that you will ever admit that or begin to understand it as you cast us aside and take us for granted.

So I stop myself from finishing posts. Who are you to complain? It's my journal. Ah, power, don't you just love it? Anyway, I have not even bothered to mention a new friend I made this week. Now some of my readers may have to read this very carefully to understand it, in light of previous entries. My new friend is Jonah. Jonah is a fish. (This is where the careful reading comes in, he is a fish not a fiche.) Jonah is visiting for a week while his mommy is away. I have been pondering whether or not he wants to meet my baby. I know my baby would love to meet him.

Every now and again, he flits about his bowl excitedly, probably trying to get some attention. It startled me the first time since most of the things on my desk don't move of their own accord (except the dust bunnies, but we don't talk about them anymore). I even caught him staring at me today. I think he caught on that I am a cat lady. He has to keep his eye on my now to make sure he doesn't become a tasty treat. So untrusting.

The rest of the day has been pretty uneventful. I decided to make part of the cow in my kitchen into dinner. This means that the cats really love me right now. Of course, no one needs to perform an experiment to prove that meaty smells attract cats. Ah, but I do love experiments. Perhaps, I should devise one. *rubs hands together in childlike glee* That shall be something to discuss with myself later, however. In the meantime, off to clean a few things.