Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

I turned in my Monster-ly scary thesis Monday morning much to my relief and trepidation. And just minutes ago I sent my second final project: 16 pages of "notecard" reviews, etc. on Gary Paulsen and his three novels: The Hatchet , Dogsong , and The Beet Fields , accompanied by a 24 slide Powerpoint presentation of the paper. I let out a sigh of relief and yet feel as though I have sent my baby out to play in traffic. Handing in papers is always such a mix of emotions; the joy at the end of a class and yet the fear that you forgot to capitalize a "t" or cite a reference. I don't have kids, yet I feel that I know what parenting is like because each time I turn in a major assignment it is like letting my baby go out into the world alone: to be picked on by bullies; yelled at by teachers; nearly broad-sided by a bus. And yet I feel a sense of accomplishment handing those papers over, much like a mother as she watches her toddler master potty training. That sai...

Death is a funny thing. People think death is so final. I thought it was final--I even said so the other night to Chris--but I am realizing that death is so continual for those who live. It is this nagging neighbor that wants to be in every part of your life. At times you think you can escape it and then there it is again, madly flagging it's arms and shouting, "yoo hoo, over here." Death passed and now the hollow that is left inside harkens me to a feeling of utter lost-ness--and it isn't bad, really. It is like going through the days and watching as someone else does things for me. Me is really curled up on a sofa somewhere in the recesses of my mind--just resting--and this imposter Me is running the show for a while. And she sees things differently, not renewed, but new. She has never seen the sprinkling of snow, salted over Dad's garden; Mom's dormant rose bushes, jutting out hautily under a dusting of white; never noticed how pungent some foods smell; n...

3 States 2 Countries 1 Continent I feel as though I have been so far removed from blogger-dom that I have to explain where I have been. Life has been so crazy busy as of late. I have had between 3-4 papers due every week for the past month+ and so much reading. Last week was especially bad, one of those "I am going to quit right now...I don't need this degree" kinda weeks. I turned in a 9 page paper on the history and literary comparisons (of 7 different versions) of The Emperor's New Clothes, which interestingly enough, may not have been originally written by Hans Christian Andersen ; but may have come from a varied versions of a tale told centuries before in Italy and Spain. I turned in a "Book talk" and "Notecard" for All quiet on the Western Front . And most horrible of horrible, I had to give a presentation of my research proposal (this is the big final paper I have to write--though only 10 pages in length--and it sucks because what is the poi...

I realized the other night as I tried to begin a new book that I couldn't concentrate. I kept reading the same sentence over and over again on the first page, because I was thinking about the settled in feeling I was finally-after 14 months in my current living situation-having for my home. It was one of those moments when you walk down the dark hallway, cool boards under your feet, and flip the lights on, reaching directly for the switch, not having to paw at the wall like a blind man. You don't even think about it anymore, the ease of navigating the window latch, admiring how smoothly it glides open, how foreign that feels after a hand crank widow, or an old heavy double paned window, fitted into a setting; a window that was replaced as you too were in time replaced. You don't notice anymore the way the breeze can blast through the window, dispelling the day's stale air that you were not able to sigh away. Your exhales were a contribution to little more than stale...

This bridge will only take you halfway there To those mysterious lands you long to see: Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fairs And moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share The twisting trails and wondrous worlds I've known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there- The last few steps you'll have to take alone. ~Shel Silverstein Stumbled across this Shel Silverstein poem this morning while avoiding writing the paper that is due tonight. I have to critique a children's book, and have chosen Stellaluna ; a tre sweet book which I love! I just can't get focused...Argh! Reading the poem made me want to crawl back into bed...and...um...read the Three Billy Goats Gruff .

To quote B1 , who when once we were in a bad situation said, "I'm freaking out, this is me freaking out!" Yep, that sums up yesterday. Got online finally and read my syllabus for my Young Adult Lit class . Holy shit. I have so much homework, so quickly that I was freaking out at my desk, just reading the syllabus! I had to deep breathe and think of sunshine and sparkles to keep myself from an aneurism. Think happy thoughts for me. My first assignment is to check out 5 web pages that have aids to help me in my search to find appropriate reading material for Adolescents, (they actually are helpful), read The Chocolate War , by Robert Cormier, and begin to work on making a note card sheet with info about the book, prepare a graphic organizer for the book (still trying to figure out what that is), and work on a group panel discussion that we will conduct via Blackboard (our online server). Things will look better tomorrow morning when I get to sleep in a little, read over the...