I read an article this morning about child mortality in India.  It said that India accounts for 20% of the world’s child mortality rate.  I feel bad admitting to it, but one of my first reactions was to wonder how overpopulated the country would be if all these children survived.  It seems that aside from the tragic issue of the death of so many children, the larger issue is the question of why so many children are being born to begin with.

The article featured the story of a 17 year old girl who recently had her first child and was secluded right after the birth because women are believed to be “impure” after childbirth.  What got me about her story was that “she will be expected to conceive again as soon as possible”.  Why?  I don’t know much about India and its cultural customs and beliefs, but I have an issue with this.  Why should women be expected to bear so many children when it’s such a threat to both her and her child to be whisked off to unsanitary conditions without needed medical attention?  And, what’s the solution?  Education?  Should we Westerners be telling them that this expectation to have many babies is wrong and contributing to the massive poverty rate in the country?  Or should we just leave them alone and let them stand by their traditions and belief system despite the negative consequences?  Of course, I see where this expectation might have made sense at one point in history when populating the earth was necessary, but it’s outdated.  The last thing India needs is more people.  So maybe we should point out to India that more babies are not the answer; that more babies will keep them poor and hungry and unhealthy.           

This morning I opened my time accruals letter from payroll and saw that my anniversary date is 8/27.  This was so not the plan.  I was supposed to work here for a little bit.  For a few months until someone wanted to give me a library job with decent pay that would allow me to work only one job and maintain a level of happiness and fulfillment in my work life.  But alas, we're coming up on a year next week and I'm still here with no prospects of leaving. 

The Boy tells me all the time that I should be thankful.  That it's not a bad gig.  It's easy, I like most of my co-workers, the pay is OK and I have great benefits which are essential to my survival.  He's right.  There are a lot of people much worse off than me and I feel kind of bad complaining.  But still, it'd be nice if half my paycheck didn't go toward paying student loans for an education I'm not even using.  I was thinking the other day that maybe library school was a mistake.  I racked up about 20 grand just for that one year since I took out money to live on because I couldn't find a job.  I blew through my savings.  I think about how I could have gotten one of the many library assistant jobs that are available which I have a sneaking suspicion I am unable to land because having a master's for a job requiring a high school education puts me in the "over qualified" bracket.  I could have gained the required years of experience while working toward my degree part-time.

But it's done and as I'm trying to learn in many areas of my life, we can't change what's already happened, but simply accept it and deal with any consequences with grace.  So looks like I'm going to continue working at a job that keeps me hovering dangerously close to the poverty line and handing over the better part of my salary to loan companies for an indefinite period of time.  And, I'm going to like it.  Not really, but I'll try to pretend I'm cool with it. 

I’m reading this book called How Did You Get This Number which is pretty good and funny. Almost like a younger, straighter, female David Sedaris.  In fact he endorses her on the back cover of the book.  And why wouldn’t you endorse someone who’s a slightly less good version of yourself?  

I spent about 3 hours reading last night, which I haven’t done in a loooong time and thoroughly enjoyed.  While there’s a smattering of run-on, what-the-hell-are-you-talking about paragraphs in the book, it’s mostly witty and clever and there were several laugh out loud moments.  One of which was a conversation she has with her friend in which he simply doesn’t recall a previous conversation she swears they had.  She insists he called her to tell her that he was going to email her an ad for an apartment.  The guy says back to her, “Why would I call you to tell you I was going to email you? I’m not 80 years old,” which I thought was pretty hilarious and highlighted the inability of people over a certain age to trust technology. 

Even funnier is that about an hour ago, a co-worker walked about 50 yards to pop her head in my office and tell me she emailed me the date of an upcoming meeting.  As far as I can tell she came over just to tell me this.  I see two things wrong with this.  One, the above mentioned outlandish distrust for the reliability of the Internet, and two, the fact that she emailed me in the first place.  If she knew she was going to come see me, why didn’t she just tell me the date when she came over?  Perhaps my confusion on why she would walk a semi-far distance when she needn’t leave her desk chair is just evidence of the laziness of our generation, but I say it’s just plain resourcefulness.    

The library I work at on Tuesday nights is right across the street from the emergency psychiatric hospital in town.  Last night as I was walking to the library, a man stopped me and asked, “Is that the emergency place?  You know…the crazy one?”  At first I thought he was there to bring his girlfriend who was sitting in the car with him.  My heart broke a little for her, that she’d be in such pain.  I have a very deep empathy for the emotionally wounded.  But then he said, “I have to pick up my mom,” and I felt a little sad for myself.  I saw my own 30-something children going to some similar establishment to pick me up someday.  I’d like to think I’ve grown and will continue to grow into emotional stability, but I can see myself losing it someday.  I’ve always worried that my tendency toward depression and my inability to cope with life will affect my children negatively.  Mostly I worry that they will inherit my sadness, but I know it’s also hard to love someone who won’t snap out of it and just enjoy life.  I worry that that will be me and I will unfairly force my family to deal with my emotional shortcomings. 

The other night, The Boy and I went to Buff to see Citizen Cope and OAR in concert.  It was kind of a gamble because we didn't have tickets and were just hoping we could get them at the door.  Despite this uncertainty, we decided to risk it rationalizing that even if we couldn't get in, it'd be a fun and spontaneous adventure.  And besides, we had nothing better to do. 

Turns out there were no tickets available, but having driven 2 ½ hours, The Boy wasn't willing to give up quite so easily, and we stood by the ticket booth waiting for someone to want to unload a couple tickets.  After about 2 hours (and 20 minutes before the show started), The Boy pulled it off and got 2 tickets for $20.  Half the price, which left us with that much more money for beer and snacks and we were able to get two orders of delicious fries instead of one. 

While standing at the gate of a concert for two hours hoping to snag tickets might sound like a drag, I actually rather enjoyed it.  It was some good people watching, which is always fun.  The majority of the crowd was under 20 and I was amused by their choice in clothing.  It seems that the fashions of the 90's have reared their ugly head again.  Fluorescent colors are everywhere.  The small print floral design has appeared on dresses and even (gasp) rompers.  I even saw some keds.  I've seen a lot of this fashion appearing at the retail establishment as well (even flannel shirts!) and have been a little shocked that the teenagers are eating it up.  They love this ugly shit that I wore in elementary and middle school.  I guess because in 1992 when this stuff was cool, they were infants and so it's all new to them.  Still, I don't get it. 

Some examples of the night's fashions:

I've been feeling kind of discouraged about this whole no job thing. It's now been over a year that I've been looking and it's frustrating.  The other day in a staff meeting, we were talking about the enticing offers from the state for early retirement.  A few of our people are thinking of taking it and it made me wonder if this might not open some more jobs here.  The old people retire; everyone below them moves up and new jobs open up for us new(ish) grads.  It's a nice thought but I don't know how it will really play out. 

At this point though, the thought of actually being called for an interview is kind of surreal and doesn't seem like something that can ever really happen.  I'd probably fall off my chair if someone actually did express some interest in me.  But I'm really tired of my current job situation.  I'm tired of working that the Retail Establishment and it's only going to get much worse very soon.  The current high schoolers at the place are quite tolerable, fun even, and I enjoy talking to them.  But they are all headed off to college in a month or so and the new batch of high schoolers coming in is horrible.  I'm convinced that with each passing year, kids get lazier and dumber.  A result, I'm sure, of playing too many video games and not getting enough sunlight.  I'm not sure I can tolerate them and I may have to quit regardless of my lack of funds. 

The other job isn't so great either.  It's not a bad gig really, I sit at a desk all day and for the most part, no one really bothers me.  I don't have anyone looking over my shoulder or breathing down my neck, checking on what I'm doing and if I'm maximizing productivity.  But in all honesty, there's not much opportunity to be productive these days.  Perhaps because I'm so efficient, or maybe because it's a mind-numbingly simple job, there's not too much on my to-do list these days.  Which is really boring.  I want a job I can feel proud of--one where I can use my brain and learn things.  I guess if I'm to believe what everyone's been telling me for over a year, something will come up.  It just sucks waiting. 

Had breakfast with LB this morning.  She was in town from NYC and squeezed me in for some pancakes and grits…in her case.  Disgusting amounts of bacon and home fries in mine.  Anyway, as she excitedly told me about her life in the big city, I could see how happy she is right now and felt very happy for her.  And it made me wish I lived in a fun city--somewhere that you could do fun things and not have to pack a snack and bottle of water in preparation for the long drive to the closest store.  I've often at times wondered if I could be happy in a city.  I tend to panic in crowds when people get too close to me and also believe that the majority of people in this world are not really that nice and most of the time I'd rather just avoid situations that involve other people.  I don't know if I'd go so far as to say I have agoraphobia or anything, but I'd definitely say the majority of the time, given the choice, I'd rather stay home and read a book.  This perhaps makes me boring, or at least a person that enjoys things that other people might consider less than an optimal good time…but this is me.  I can't help it. 

Unless, maybe I could.  I was thinking today that maybe, if I lived in a city, I could become cool.  Like maybe having the option of a good time (and a boyfriend that would encourage me to have a good time), might cause me to develop a taste for fun.  The thought of going to bars on a regular basis still doesn't appeal to me, but going to the theater does.  The likely abundance of used book stores and trendy coffee shops and cute boutiques does.  The thought of huge, beautiful libraries with an excellent selection of CDs does. 

I remember this one street Liz and I walked down when we were in New York.  I think it ran next to Central Park.  It was just so cute, with wrought iron fences and the perfect amount of shade and just the right amount of cracks in the sidewalk that I could have walked up and down that street all day long and not gotten sick of it.  This really appeals to me too--interesting and quaint parts of town that make for an excellent late afternoon stroll.  I like the idea of finding little-known cafes and restaurants that have amazing food and atmosphere that The Boy and I could go to and could become "our place".    

I went over to my sister's new house to help out with the preparations for the big move (and to do laundry) tonight.  I taped off the trim in preparation for a new paint job.  I found it to be exhausting and tedious…and I'm sure the 80-90 degree temperature in there didn't help.  I hate being sweaty.  There was a lot of work to be done in the house.  They are ripping down wall paper, painting every room, and building a new bedroom for Mik in the basement.  As I was standing on a chair and stretching to tape off the molding on the ceiling, I started to question my deep desire to own my own home.  I certainly won't be able to afford some beautiful, newly renovated house and anything I get will likely be a "fixer-upper" in need of a great deal of work and manual labor. 

I decided though that I was just being lazy and owning a home is definitely worth all the effort that goes into it.  This thought was definitely confirmed when I went home and tried to maneuver in the tiny kitchen.  I'm not sure of the exact dimensions, but I know for certain that I can't fully extend my arms in it.  You have to move the trash can to open the dishwasher and unless they are standing side by side, two people can't be in there at once.  You have to hold your breath and suck it in if you need to pass one another.  It sucks.  So owning a home and being able to knock out barriers that keep you from being able to comfortably move around your kitchen would be totally worth all the work of home renovations.