People are Strange

     I am dead-set on becoming a librarian right now.

Right now, in a world where books made of paper are starting to slowly disappear.

In a world where the only places I really feel at home are having shorter

and shorter

and shorter

hours.

      I want to be the person smiling behind the counter who knows what's in the back room.  I want to be the person who makes sure the covers aren't falling off of books, the person who barcodes all of the fiction works in a matter of weeks(until I worry my hands will fall apart from the copy/pasting).

     I want it so bad.  So terribly bad.  I may never get to have it.  

     Books are disappearing because it is more eco-friendly, easier to carry and easier to purchase novels and typed literature on kindles and eReaders and iPads.  Does nobody care for the scent of a book anymore?  I have nothing excessive against this, but I can't help but feel a bit hurt.  

     A bullied kid on the playground would get beat up for an iPad, but a book?  The little demons find no value in a book.  Trust me.  

     I feel like technology is leaving me behind.  My media is out-of-date.  I should watch the news, or read it online.  I should already have some fancy reading machine.  I should have Marty's hover-board from Back To The Future 2 (okay, the last one's wishful thinking).  

      I still like the newspaper, I am enamored with the ever-shrinking funny pages. I love my books, and have re-bound a few, myself. I really do want the hover-board, though.  

      Last year, I worked in the library after class almost every day.  It was amazing.  I have been working the library this year, too.  I have been teaching the Freshmen how to handle the front desk, how to check books in and out and how it makes life easier to alphabetize the books on the cart before you put them back on the shelves.  

     I found my dream job, the only problem is, it looks like it might be gone by the time I'm able to have it.  

The Fair

     Call me sentimental.
     Call me insane.
     The fair is magic.

     Yup.  Magic.

     OK, I'm not a stark-raving looney(kind of).  It's just that the fair is different from the rest of the year.  It doesn't take place in "normal-time", it takes place in the same weird, alternate-reality that houses Halloween.  That place where kids have freedom to just run around, junk food is not just allowed, but mandatory and enemies declare(temporary) truces.
     For one weekend of the year, every year, everyone is friends.  For the parents - there's nostalgia, for the kids - a world of light and wonder, the teens get a chance to live in a place of their own, a domain that is solely based on their decisions.  It's sort of like real-life, except someone else is paying your bills for you and there's no mortgage.  The really neat part is that the normal rules of engagement don't seem to apply in this other-world.
     Under the stars, gaudy lights and too-loud sounds of the music, games and crowds, everyone is equal.  You can be a kid.  You can run around, tell stupid jokes, and basically act four or six or eight as a middle-schooler or high-schooler.  Balloon-animals, "sword fights", ice cream, tag, hide-and-go-seek-tag*.  Parents lose a lot of the "serious, parental attitudes" and laughter is everywhere.  Seriously. 

I'm not making this up.

      We live in a fairly average sized city and that part which we inhabit is fairly small.  Don't get me wrong, this isn't some small-town, my high school has enough humans for the Census Bureau to gain us the title of "Small Town"






































 Anyway, when you're my age, the people at the fair are the people you've spent your whole life with(although you may not know them super-well).  You pass these people on your bike, that group you've known since pre-school, those guys are your buds and you've been saying, "Hey" to that person at the baseball field since before your brother stopped using a tee.
     So, in order to break grudges, break normalcy and basically break the whole fair down to one component, I have come to the conclusion that the fair is magic.  It's not perfect, but it's not perfect in the most perfect way possible.  You know Sandlot?  The fair is a lot like the Fourth of July in Sandlot, minus the fireworks.  It feels like something is going to happen, something unusual.  The anticipation and possibility mix with the sickly-sweet cotton-candy and adrenaline from the Gravitron**.
     I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting weekend.
 -AG

 *like tag, only hide-ier and seek-ier.  And cooler, that too.
**I'm still too chicken for this ride.  Oh so very chicken.

Top O' the Mornin'

     Well, as the flag hanging out in front of the porch of The Homestead so boldly pronounces to the world, I am "LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE IRISH".  That's right, folks! AG, the crazed Italian chick posting all over the interwebs, is also Irish. 
     So, St. Patty's Day has always been a bit of a big deal 'round these parts.  You go to bed in Green Clothing the night before, unless you'd like to be awakened(quite rudely, shall I add) by a pinch.  Green through the day and Green when you go to bed that night.
     I went to bed with a green shirt on and some red sock-monkey(think Nick&Nora*) PJ's(the monkeys have green scarves).   I stumble out of my room and slump onto the couch next to Emboo.  I'm still not quite awake yet.  She leans over** and pinches me. 

No joke.

She pinched me.  

      This.

               Means.

                          WAR.

     I pinch back.
....and get a very startled look from her "oh-so-innocent" face.  Her head whips back to shoot a questioning look at Jax.  "She's wearing green, Emboo."
"No, she's not," comes the "victim"
"Yes, she is," I return, holding out my shirt for inspection.   It turns out that it actually is green.
     Nami was even wearing a kelly green bow and bright green socks.***

Ok, enough of this.
To Business.
To FOOD.
To this.

      It is Shepherd's Pie and it is delicious.  We substituted corn for the peas(they were gonna make me go out and buy peas.  In the rain.  Besides, I secretly wanted to use the corn in it.  I love corn. MWAHAHAHAHAAA.)
     The irony of the situation is, we had to eat this as a substitute to Corned Beef and Cabbage due to corned beef and cabbage being too expensive.  You may not know this, but Corned Beef and Cabbage started out as a luxury, but Irish consumption in the USA shot through the roof.  Because it was cheaper here.  Psha!
       Also, to breakfast!  Ammamay made bacon and eggs and hashed-brown potatoes with onions.  YUM~!
     After a long, lovely day, we watched THOR.  *ADJUSTS GLASSES* I'm more of a DC girl, myself, but I can honestly say that I liked it, Marvel and all.****
Happy St. Patty's day and may the Luck of the Irish be with you and yours.

*It has a jacket, which I had worn over my green shirt(although, it had green in it and wasn't exactly blocking my solid-green t-shirt)

**She's all decked out, man.  She's got a Green necklace(with shamrocks on it), an "Irish"(think "Leprechaun and Pot O' Gold") pony-tailor, an all-green shirt and Green-and-Black "Got Luck?" socks.

*** Thanks to Emboo.

****Spiderman, Iron Man and X-Men are my secret, secret exceptions for Marvel.  Ssshhhh!

AAAAAND now, more on Radios!(Right after this quick* Commercial Break.)

      I guess I have a bit of an unnatural love for my radios.  They are my "babies".  I guess I have this thing about music(free music, all the moreso!).  I have grown up with a radio.  I have developed some weird music tastes/preferences due to this.

For Instance;

     I like the "crunch" that you hear in FM radio.  I think it makes some songs sound better than if the band were playing the song right in front of me. This is not normal.  

     So, basically, little things like that influence my taste in music, advertisements, basically anything auditory.  I LOVE my radio, it is my pride and joy.  You might even be able to say that is was my friend growing up.  Some of my fondest memories revolve around radios.

     To me, music is necessary.  I need it to calm down sometimes.

Being an Aspie** has a lot of ups and down,  Just like being an NT***.   My ups and downs are a little bit different, though.  When I am overwhelmed, thinking becomes a bit of a problem for me.  When I am like that-too sad/mad/over-stimulated/sensory-deeprived, music helps to sooth me and to make me feel better.

And so, my radios are very prized possessions for me.

I have two radios.
One is a clock-radio that I keep nex to my bed.  The face of it glows, it glows so brightly that it would keep me awake if I didn't face it down every night, although there is a downside to doing that.  It is scratched, a mega-super-number-marring-scratch is on the face and lots of little scratches make it look almost like it's dirty!

     My other radio is portable and from the '70's.  My Gramma**** bought it from Radio Shack for around $7.⁰⁰ and if it wasn't used it would be worth about five times that much***** on popular auction sites, but
I don't plan on selling it any time soon.  It is red and is supposed to be for emergencies. 
Like when the power goes out.******
Or I am DEAD BORED after class gets let out.
Or...or....or...
...well, I think you get the picture.
     I take very good care of them both(except when I'm sleeping, unfortunately).  I know most of my generation are all hopped up on iPods and stuff, but I'd take a good book and a good music station and be happy for about an eternity or two.

Love,
AG








*LIES!(those breaks feel like they take hours, ugh)
**Aspie=person with Asperger's
***NT=neurotypical/relatively normal person
****Gramma=Ammamay's Mom
*****last time I checked, it was 36 or 37 dollars.
******There will one day be a post about this.  I swear it!