Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

I love Mindy Kaling. I love The Mindy Project. And I love her Harvard speech . Today as we begin our 2nd day of Summer Reading '14 and I'm feeling a little tired I'm tapping into my inner warrior...

Well, I guess it's official. If you will notice I changed my blog header. I have graduated from the Monster Library Student to the Monster Librarian. Holy cats!

Graduate School is over. Wow. It feels strange. When I started this program just over a year ago I felt like I would never be able to say that. And looking back now I can't believe how fast the time has gone, especially, mercifully this last semester. My best friend L asked me if I was excited--when I called her Saturday afternoon to say that I had submitted my last paper--excitement isn't the word I would use. Glad that it's over--certainly, but there are so many things to think about. I feel tired more than anything. It is amazing that I could do all nighters with no sleep a few times a week to get all my papers and projects done, but now that everything is turned in I can't believe I ever was able to do that. All I want to do is have a serious Rip Van Winkle, and catch up and then, maybe after all the sleep the excitement will settle in. I feel like too much life has happened this semester. Death, Graduation, Finding a new job, possibly moving again. Oh, argh, ...

*based loosely on Shel Silverstein's " For sale ." One Monster for hire! One Monster for hire! One jobless and helpful young Monster for hire! I'm really not budging, so stop judging! Do I hear Monopoly money? Aztec Gold or a few grand? Oh, isn't there , isn't there any one boss who will hire this recently trained and certifiably Masters-gained sobbing and slobbing young Monster for hire? Ok, so maybe I am wallowing in self pity today...just a little. I sit on the threshold of the final two major projects, the worst and most dreaded of the semester turned in this very morning--to the professor who I have had ALL semester long, who looked at me as though he doesn't even know me, who I hope will also allow his alzheimer's to fog out the memory of my paper and give me an A. And yet, in this almost-merriment of being so close to being finished I feel a little nervous about work and that feeling is heavier than the happiness. My position at the school libra...

and in the end... I am almost there. I can see the end in sight. Not like a bright light, but rather my bed....because after this, that is where I will go. I am almost there. I have 3 big papers to go. So what if I watched three movies last night just to avoid working on my thesis... who are you to judge? And so what if they were all really hokey movies, say for example: Elizabethtown , Robin Hood: Prince of Thevies , and The Hobbit . I am not ashamed. I am nearly done. The end is in sight. Fluffy bed here I come.

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...