A Heavy Something

There will always be something. 

A Heavy Something she refuses to let free.

A weight she chose to carry.

but she takes this weight with reason,

simply because she lives in fascination of it’s beauty.

It’s Heavy weight has reformed her, changed her thoughts, 

and changed her ability to trust

along with the lack thereof.

She adores this weight because it reminds me she is real. 

Real, Damaged, but fantastically alive.

Forsaken and betrayed,

but never again to be left alone.

–

For my burdens I am blessed.

What an adventure it is to be broken!

Such opportunity, to be chained.

What more blessing could I ask?

than to be accompanied by my very own

Heavy Something.

The astonishing comeback, and undeniable insignificance, of vinyl

Peasant Burning Weeds – Vincent van Gogh

Biblioklept

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Medieval Town

1001 Scribbles

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Jeffrey Rotter’s The Only Words That Are Worth Remembering (Book acquired, 4.14.2015)

Biblioklept

Jeffrey Rotter’s novel The Only Words That Are Worth Remembering  is new in hardback from Henry Holt. Their blurb:

A darkly comic, wildly original novel of a family in flight from the law, set in a near-future America — a Clockwork Orange with a Huck Finn heart.

In a not-so-distant future, astronomy has become a fairy tale, Copernicus is forgotten, and the Earth has resumed its lonely spot in the center of the universe. But when an ancient bunker containing a preserved space vehicle is discovered beneath the ruins of Cape Canaveral, it has the power to turn this retrograde world inside out.Enter the Van Zandt clan, whose run-ins with the law leave them with a no-win choice: test-pilot the rocket together as a family or be sent separately to prison for life. Their decision sets off an antic and heartbreaking search for human solace in a world bent on…

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Blood Wedding — Richard Pousette-Dart

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Reference Desk: 50 Sh…ut up, that book is terrible.

FINALLY! Someone that can back my up in saying that 50 Shades is at the very least completely and utterly useless as well as boring.

LibrarianShipwreck

By now we all know that 50 shades of grey, its sequels, and its movie adaptation are all the worst, and have no redeeming value, literary, moral, or otherwise, beside maybe helping a bunch of people get their rocks off. But, everyone is reading it! And that’s not nothing!

No amount of reading of it will change the fact that the kink, sex, and relationship described therein are abusive and dangerous (when not physically impossible), as well as….kind of boring, actually. Fear not! Turns out there’s a great big world of delightful dirty sex out there! It’s clear that E.L. James has never dipped her toes into that world, which at its best is one where consent and communication and safety are as important as pleasure (for some meaning of pleasure). And maybe you, my dear librarians, never have either, which might leave you at a loss…

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Relationship Status: Not Pertanent

So I wouldn’t consider myself as president of the Anti-Valentine’s day committee. Heck, I probably can’t even consider myself a member. I love Valentines Day. And call me crazy, but I kind of enjoy being single on Valentine’s Day. Just hear me out…

Growing up, Valentine’s day was always about my family. It meant heart-shaped pancakes, cookies and candy for breakfast. I’d go to school and get those cute little valentines candies in a shoebox, only to come home and trade my snickers for my brother’s skittles. At the end of the long day, I would cozy up with my chocolates on the couch by the fireplace, while my mom and my brothers danced in the kitchen to Norah Jones. From my view on the couch, I had the opportunity to capture that picture-perfect view of true love. And it was just dancing around my kitchen. This, I knew, was Valentine’s day. Being goofy with the people I’m fortunate enough to share my life with.

This Valentine’s Day, is very very different to what I just illustrated. I am hundreds of miles away from my family, watching the snow and drinking coffee in my freezing cold dorm room attempting to focus on my homework.

But I’m totally satisfied with this.

I’ve spent the day focusing on my life. I’ve taken a step back to examine how much has changed in just short of three months, and how lucky I am to have such a simple and beautiful life. I am truly in love with what my life has become. Despite all the pain and struggle I’ve ben forced to endure, i’ve befriended some incredibly caring people along the way. (Shoutout to my sister, Kersten, for always being strong for me when I’m at my absolute worst. I Love You.)

This year, Valentine’s Day has a whole new meaning. It’s a time to reflect on the love I’ve been shown in the past, and to focus on the support i have been smothered with these past few months specifically. On this day centered around love, I see too many young girls broken up and wounded because of this idea that Valentine’s Day was designed to smite the singles. I challenge you to rise above it. Put down the chocolates and Ice cream. Turn off the RomComs, And call your friends and families just to tell them you love them. Because love, i’ve found, is much sweeter than even the finest of chocolates.

“The writer has three sources: imagination, observation, and experience” — William Faulkner

Biblioklept

Unidentified participant: Sir, a few minutes ago you mentioned that people in your hometown were looking into your books for familiar characters. Realizing that you’ve got a rich legacy as it were, of experiences, it seems to me that nowadays the modern novelist is writing merely thinly disguised autobiography. Which do you think is really more valuable [in] the sense of the artist, the disguised autobiography, or making it up from whole cloth, as it were?

William Faulkner: I would say that the writer has three sources: imagination, observation, and experience. He himself doesn’t know how much of which he uses at any given moment because each of the sources themselves are not too important to him, that he is writing about people, and he uses his material from the three sources, as—as—as the carpenter reaches into his—his lumber room and finds a board that fits the particular corner he’s…

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Messiness: A Common Misconception

As I sat down to write this post, I had all intentions of writing about something elementary and simple. Something safe and pleasant that would give my readers the impression that I’ve got it all together.

But I won’t lie to you.

Life is messy; if it weren’t messy it wouldn’t be Life. Or at least, it wouldn’t be my life. We see messes everywhere, on our desks, in our friend’s lives, and in practically any college dorm room. Messiness is understood as a negative attribute. But who’s to say that a little mess is bad? Quite frankly, I say. In fact, on a daily basis I tell myself that messy and unorganized lifestyles are wrong. Holding myself to some unwritten standard of being perfectly organized. Simply by instinct, I can point out the most detailed flaws within myself. Flaws in how I handle certain situations, how much effort I put into my studies and how dedicated I am to my relationships. The list goes on into oblivion. But having flaws is not what’s important; everyone has flaws. What’s important is how we view those flaws, and if we choose to correct them, how we go about it. This week, I had a dear friend confront me on precisely this topic. As we sat down in the university café, we made some quality small-talk. That is, until he asked a question that would ultimately change my outlook on messiness. All he wanted to know is how my week had been going, but I hit him across the face with an encyclopedia of mess and negativity. I went on and on complaining about all the things that were going wrong and criticized every little aspect of my life that wasn’t near perfect. Midsentence, he stopped me; telling me to take deep breaths and listen to myself for a moment. I didn’t understand what he meant at first. Did I say something wrong? Had I crossed some line amidst all my ranting? After a good 5 minutes of deep breathing I started to realize that maybe I had crossed a line. What I had been saying started to sound petty and empty. But what was it exactly that suddenly made me feel this emptiness?

My friend left me with a new understanding of my flaws that day. I won’t disclose all the details of our conversation, but there are a few things I would like to share. I realized just how cynical I am which lead to a new appreciation for messiness. It is, after all, a characteristic that distinguishes one imperfect human from another. And since perfection is unattainable, what is there to gain from endless criticism and constant negativity? There are two more points I would like to make. The first is that having flaws is not what’s important. What’s important is that we take caution not to let imperfections hinder who we are naturally. Flaws and imperfections can reveal the darkest the lightest parts of our being. Once we accept that, the only threat to being who we really are is the amount of power we give our criticizing minds. Thus, we should be careful to approach criticism in such that we abstain from destroying what makes us imperfect. My second and final point is this: It’s perfectly okay to want to improve ourselves, and sometimes a little gentle criticism is critical, Therefore, we then have to realize that we will get nowhere by breaking ourselves down. Rather, we build ourselves up with encouragement and inspiration to be better. Owning our imperfections and ultimately accepting them as what they are, a beautifully messy reminder of our imperfect human nature.