Work Sucks

So, it’s been one week since I began my new job. Well, sort of. I’ve had a few days where I’ve gone back to the old job to help train some new people, and cover in some staffing gaps, but today is the last day I have to do that.
My new job sucks. My new boss gives new meaning to the word unorganized. Seriously folks, it’s a library, so doesn’t it make sense that things would be organized at least a tiny bit? Apparently I am the minority on that one. It seems to be an accepted fact that at my new library, books that should be on the shelves, books that say they are available in the computer – good luck finding them.
Now it is inevitable that there will be some miss-shelved items, because patrons like to “help” by putting books back, and sometimes the kids think its funny to pull books down and put them back wherever to annoy the mean library lady. And yes, sometimes the people who are in charge of shelving aren’t all there, and they miss shelve items. But this library is tiny. It’s one of the smallest branches – you can see almost the entire collection from the front door. And it doesn’t get used often as an actual library – more like an after school baby sitting service really – so the books don’t even get pulled off the shelves that often. But I could deal with simple instances of items being misplaced – it happens.
What I can’t deal with, what is driving me crazy, is the fact that my new boss feels it necessary to hold onto materials and items that we really don’t need anymore. Every shelf in the library is packed so tightly, if you try to pull one book off, at least 3 more come down too. And when she runs out of space in an area, it seems like she just puts items wherever she can find a spot, even if that spot is halfway across the building and in a completely different section. Or she starts to stack the items on top of each other.
I really wish I had pictures to show, because there is no way I can possibly convey the extent of the mess in words. There are entire sections shoved in the middle of other areas. Like there are juvenile fiction items in the middle of the juvenile non-fiction section. And there are paperbacks stacked two deep in the test prep book section. And to make it even worse, almost nothing is labeled, and the labels that do exist are mostly wrong.
I know that I can at times be a little compulsive when it comes to organization. Alright, a lot compulsive, but I really, really think that if any of you were to come and see the haphazard way items are arranged, you would agree with me – this goes way beyond a little disorganization. It’s like a giant cluster fuck.
Here I was, worried that dealing with nasty attitudes from teens was going to be my biggest hurdle to overcome. I can deal with the kids – really, they aren’t so bad. You just have to act crazy. They’re afraid of crazy. And that’s not really a stretch for me, come on, I already talk to the computers. No, my biggest challenge is going to be learning to let go of my compulsive desire to have everything where it belongs and letting it go. Three months people – I only have to stay for three months, and then as soon as another position opens up, I am so out of there. Think I can make it?

Woo-Hoo!!!

I got the job! I start on Monday!
And Happy Love Day all! I won't be making it to knit club tonight - Kevin has plans for me...
Peace, S

Silent Poetry Reading

My addittion to:
http://branchesup.blogspot.com/2007/01/second-annual-brigid-in-cyberspace_25.html

My favorite poet - Pablo Neruda. So beautiful. Even more so in the original Spanish, but I couldn't find it online. Peace, Steph

TONIGHT I CAN WRITE
PABLO NERUDA

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her
.Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

translated by W.S. Merwin