Emos in the mist

I have lived amongst them for a year, studied their habits and fashion, and today, I am one of them. I am emo. Dark clothing is my friend (as is black hair dye, eyeliner, nail polish, and of course acessories made of black leather and metal spikes), safety pins are essential as my shirt has been ripped apart and pinned back together again, Jack Skellington is my role model, My Chemical Romance are like, totally amazing, and all I want to do is go home and write depressing poetry and cut myself, but only a little, because I'm afraid of blood. While being at work is painful indeed and makes me want to cry (which I will not do for fear of messing up my excessive black eyeliner), I do have a razor blade tucked away in my armband just in case I should feel the need to end it all.

I've already had a bunch of people tell me that A) pink and black hair suits me, and B) I look just like all the kids in the teen area. Uh, that's sort of the point, is it not? What better Halloween costume than to dress like one of the kids I am forced to spend my days with? While I was tempted to wear a hooded sweatshirt that says "Fuck off" on the back and see if a security guard would try to kick me out, I opted instead to turn "emo" into a verb and put "Emo This" in duct tape on my ass.

My Halloween morning started with a bit of slasher flick, because some idiot slashed 3 of the 4 teen computer screens last night, along with some of the comfy shairs we just had recovered a couple weeks ago. I'd like to do a little slashing of my own, and slash the jackass that decided to do that, because now the tech guys are considering taking out all of my computers in the teen area. That's just spanktastic, because No Nexopia=Death, when you are a teenager, so they either won't come here at all anymore, or will just be bored shitless and will find new things to wreck.

I also had a teen who wondered if he was maybe becoming a vampire, due to his bizarrely-shaped and coloured vomit of the day before, until he told me about being stabbed by a pencil and I suggested he may have lead poisoning and should possibly consult a doctor about that, or yes, he may become a vampire or at the very least have blood poisoning.

Happy Fucking Halloween!

Dr Zhivago, with groceries

It snowed a few inches last night (good for it) and I decided to go grocery shopping this morning (good for me) and let me tell you, it was quite an unpleasant experience. Just walking to the store, which is only down a hill and a couple blocks from my apartment, resulted in a frozen face and a few near tumbles on patches of ice covered with snow. While in Safeway, I decided I would take a cab back, so I loaded up on extra things I wouldn't normally buy when walking to the store. But after having the customer service people call a cab for me and waiting 10 minutes for it before I decided I could walk home quicker than it would take for the cab to arrive, I loaded up my backpack, put on my gloves and hat, and started my trek back. The heavy water, juice, peanut butter and yogurt did weigh me down enough to keep me from falling, but the large slippery package of toilet paper in one arm and box of tide detergent in the other made for some incredibly sore arms. The icy cold wind in the face, snow in the eyelashes and continually dripping nose that I could not wipe because my arms were full made me utter more than a few fuck's as I walked up the hill and eventually collapsed in the lobby of my building (where two people were just coming out of, but did not have the kindness to hold the door open for me). For anyone planning on giving me the "how come you don't have your driver's license yet?" lecture, they can just shut the hell up, as I was obviously thinking that every step of the way. The best part? It's only October 29, and it could very well be like this for the next 4 or 5 months!

List-making for librarians

What is the worst, or most time-consuming, question to ask a librarian? No, this is not a trick question or a joke, it actually just happened to me:

What are your 10 favourite books?

Not 10 favourite teen books, or picture books, or graphic novels, but 10 books in general ... this is a project a lady in our Reader's Services department is working on, where she puts little slips of paper in various books that people check out, to show what the staff favourites are. I think that other librarians, booksellers, and Nick Hornby will agree that this is a very loaded question, and will only encourage insomnia and feverish list-making. While I did find it tricky, I managed to come up with ten for this list:

• Ella Minnow Pea - Mark Dunn
• The Book Thief - Markus Zusak
• Beasts of No Nation - Uzodinma Iweala
• In the Shadow of No Towers - Art Spiegelman
• Black and White - David Macaulay
• Little Wolf's Book of Badness - Ian Whybrow and Tony Ross
  
• His Dark Materials Trilogy - Philip Pullman
• Why? - Nikolai Popov
• How I Live Now - Meg Rosoff
• Please Don't Kill the Freshman - Zoe Trope

Here are the ones I didn't include, but really wanted to ... and keep in mind that both these lists are in no particular order (a request that would take even more time) and I haven't even looked at my bookcases at home, which would give me even more ideas.

• Snow Flower and the Secret Fan – Lisa See
• Blankets – Craig Thompson
• Flood: A Novel in Pictures - Eric Drooker
  
• Never Let Me Go – Kazuo Ishiguro
• Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West – Gregory Maguire
• Happiness – Will Ferguson
• Jennifer Government – Max Barry
• Me Talk Pretty One Day – David Sedaris
• Diary of a Wombat – Jackie French
• Time Traveler’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
• The Sledding Hill – Chris Crutcher
• The Chocolate War – Robert Cormier
• Neverwhere – Neil Gaiman
• Saving Francesca – Melina Marchetta
• White Mercedes – Philip Pullman
• Stargirl – Jerry Spinelli
• The Rabbits – John Marsden and Shaun Tan
• The Three Pigs - David Wiesner
  
• The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales - Jon Scieszka and Lane Smith
  

Library Idol

I did my second Library Idol appearance at a local middle school this morning, and while it was entertaining and a good break from actually being at the library, it is not getting any less stressful or nerve-wracking. The first performance of Idol was to 380 middle schoolers, and this one was only to 150, but it was just as bad if not worse on my psyche and stomach. Luckily my alter-ego and Library Idol host is a take-charge kind of bitch, and along with the help of her Bond girl boots, black polka-dotted shirt and new white kryptonite necklace, she blew them all away. Plus the kids enjoyed winning chocolate bars for correctly answering my music trivia, and one teen was named Library Idol 2006 when I gave her an Ipod Shuffle.

Actually, I have a funny story about the Ipod Shuffles: I went to Best Buy with my two techie co-workers last week to get 10 Ipods for the ten schools I'll be visiting (our library may not be perfect, but at least we have the money thing going for us!), and one of them was not content paying $79 per Ipod and thought we should get a deal, partially because we were buying 10 and partially because they are about to come out with new ones and no one will want the old ones anymore. But all the manager would knock off was $10, so we only bought one. Well, we all went back to Best Buy yesterday afternoon, and this time I asked, and the 12 year old boy helping us went to ask his manager, and she said "I can give them to you for $30, how does that sound?". Uh, sounds ok to me. She then brought them to the girl at cash, who after taking 10 minutes to ring them all in, asked if she could get a job at the library with all of us, because we seemed like so much fun. So anyways ... the Ipod kid was certainly happy with my Idol performance, but my favourite moment was when one Grade 6 girl asked me if I owned the library. I told her that yes, I owned the library and all the other buildings in this city. No sweetie, I don't own the library - I just work here. If I owned it I might have to tear the whole thing down, put up some overpriced condos, and open a strip club, because that would be sure to make a whole lot more cashola than a library would.

Losing heroes

For those of you who haven't checked out the new television show Heroes yet, you should do that ASAP ... it's orginal and really cool, and if my theory about such shows holds, it will be cancelled in the next couple months. I think that there are certain shows (like Heroes, Boomtown, and My So-Called Life) that are either too good for tv, or television audiences are just not open-minded enough for them, and while they are shows that everyone talk about, no one watches them, and they get cancelled. Luckily that will not happen to Lost, which as we all know (including my famous author friend) is the BEST SHOW ON TV, and could be seen as the new X-Files. Sometimes cheesy or melodramatic, sometimes brilliant, but due to the crazy following of fans it has achieved cult status, and will never be cancelled. It may go for 7 years, and decide to end of its own accord, but I am just fine with that.

One for the tombstone

You're only as good as the books you've read.

I just came up with that, and far as I can tell, I didn't unknowingly steal it from anyone. What do you think? Good, bad, or just not true? The real question is whether it will still be around 100 years after I die - perhaps not. But for now, it's mine.

13 Going on 14

Yesterday after school, S1, whose birthday is coming up on Friday and has been asking me for the last few weeks what I'm buying him, informed me that "if you can't think of anything to buy me, you can just get me money ... or the Nightmare Before Christmas video game (which is $60)". I just had to laugh, because I really shouldn't be giving him any presents, let alone $60 ones! Last year I got him a birthday cookie, but this year he keeps reminding me that I've known him for the longest of anyone in the teen area, and he owes it to me. The trouble with getting him something, even some little thing, is that then all the kids will think I'm the present-buying librarian. He doesn't quite seem to understand that, bless his fuzzy little heart.

Georgie Porgie Pudding and Pie, Kissed the Girls and Made them Cry

I may have mentioned this already, but George Stromboulopopopopopopopopopoopopopopoulos
is my hero, and The Hour really is a great tv show. Last night he had the guys from Iron Maiden and Michael Ignatieff on the show, and treated them both with the same critical, journalistic manner while interviewing them ... friendly, yet in your face and not afraid to ask questions that will undoubtedly get them riled up. Some people may not like his style, but I think it's quite admirable that CBC and George have managed to create a news show that has Muchmusic-style editing but with a good dose of humour and the occasional biting remark ("Many nations have now been able to create functional nuclear weapons, yet only one company has the market on MP3 players") I think it's great marketing, because they have managed to make news cool again (if it ever was in the first place) and target an age group which would normally not watch CBC or any other news show, for that matter.

Two lovely books

In an effort to show that I have a kindler, gentler side and don't always talk about cocksucking motherfucking cunts (that was for you, Erin!), I need to mention the two lovely children's books I've read in the last little while.

The first is The True Story of Stellina, by Matteo Pericoli. It's the true story of how Pericoli and his wife Holly rescued and raised a little finch in the middle of Manhattan. Stellina learned how to eat, fly and sing by Holly's hands, and was their beloved pet for 8 years. It is a wonderfully sweet little story, which made me cry (and as most people know, if a book makes me cry I have to purchase it), but moreover, the tone is so original as the author writes in a language that little children will connect with, but is not condescending like so many picture books are. The drawings are also beautifully simple, and add to the "little bird in a big city" feel.

The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, by Kate Dicamillo, once again proves that the author is masterful at creating modern classics (as she also did with the Tale of Despereaux). Part Tatty Ratty, part Velveteen Rabbit, Edward Tulane is an exceedingly vain, cold-hearted china rabbit owned by 10-year-old Abilene Tulane, who dearly loves him. Her grandmother relates a fairy tale about a princess who never felt love; she then whispers to Edward that he disappoints her. His path to redemption begins when he falls overboard during the family's ocean journey. Sinking to the bottom of the sea, Edward feels his first emotion–fear. Caught in a fisherman's net, he lives with the old man and his wife and begins to care about his humans. Then their adult daughter takes him to the dump, where a dog and a hobo find him. They ride the rails together until Edward is cruelly separated from them. His heart is truly broken when next owner, four-year-old Sarah Ruth, dies. He recalls Abilene's grandmother with a new sense of humility, wishing she knew that he has learned to love. When his head is shattered by an angry man, Edward wants to join Sarah Ruth but those he has loved convince him to live. Repaired by a doll store owner, he closes his heart to love, as it is too painful, until a wise doll tells him that he that he must open his heart for someone to love him. It's a bit moralistic, but I guess all the best classics are. The sepia illustrations really complement the story well, and again, this is one I'll have to buy.

Victorian cocksuckers

I have been watching Season One of Deadwood and while I did not instantly feel the love of the show, it is quite catching and I have now watched 8 episodes in 3 days. Most of the actors are excellent - Timothy Olyphant does a great job and has won a little respect from me, as I previously only knew him as the drug dealer from the Sarah Polley movie Go and the "I had these enormous fucking metal hands" episode of Sex in the City, Molly Parker, Brad Dourif (who I will always remember as the crazy psychic murderer Luther Lee Boggs in the X-Files), Powers Boothe, and Ian Mcshane, just to name a few. But while it is very authentic, the one thing I would like to know is did they really use the word "cocksucker" in 1876? It seems to be a favourite of all the characters, and granted, it is a good word, but I don't know if it's a good word that was used in 1876. Would one of my know-it-all blog friends (not mentioning any names) like to do some research on that and find out for me?

Weird science

Next to the paramedics with the bright orange pants in Italy, the "Canadian Pneumonia" in southern Argentina, and infected bug bite in Ecuador, what happened today may be one of the most bizarre medical experiments I have had conducted on me.

I went to get allergy testing done - simple enough, in theory - and while he started with the typical poking little holes in your arm technique, he continued on with the "kinesiology" approach, where I held a vial of the offending substance in arm hand directly over my belly button, and held out my right arm. If he was able to push my arm down, I was allergic to the substance, and if he wasn't able to push my arm down, I wasn't allergic to it. I know what you're thinking, because I thought the same thing: you're full of shit, buddy! But (BIG but, as Little Wolf would say), he wouldn't tell me what the vials were until after, and after doing a few where my arm stayed up, he gave me one and my arm went down automatically, and that was for Brazil nuts. Likewise, shrimp and crab were ok, but lobster wasn't, which I could have told you given my reaction from lobster in Boston. According to the good doctor, I am allergic to a few types of nuts, lobster, dust and mold, brewer's yeast (I knew there was a reason I didn't like beer!), and milk - although that may be more of an intolerance than allergy.

But that wasn't the weirdest part. After the needles and the "kinesiology" approach, he told me he would treat me for dust and mold, which was my most severe reaction next to nuts and lobster. He could do it for nuts and seafood too, but it wouldn't likely last long and I should just avoid eating them whenever possible. So, thinking that I'm going to get an injection in the ass, I gear up mentally for the needle, when he tells me to take off my shoes and socks and lie down on the table. He then gives me a small jar of dust (from a vacuum cleaner) that he puts between my belt and belly button, and proceeds to hit me for about ten minutes - tapping, or maybe more like rapping - my various pressure points with his hands - nose, cheeks, collarbone, ribs, ankles, toes and soles of my feet. This, he announced, would lessen, if not eliminate entirely, my allergy to dust and mold. After doing this he did the arm test again and this time he could not push my arm down, and my nose was surprisingly unstuffy.

I suppose one way of looking at this experience is that I only paid $25 to be poked, tested and hit, so if he is full of shit, I can just go to another doctor to get a second opinion. But who knows - maybe he is right. He said that approach has worked for people with the most severe peanut allergies, so maybe there is hope for me. The weird thing is that he was an oldish (late 60s at least) doctor who does not look like an alternative medicine kind of guy, and plus he practices in a conventional medical clinic and not some earthy crunchy homeopathic wellness centre.

I honestly don't think my day can get any weirder, but in this city, you never know. It snowed this morning, but the way - just for an hour, but it was still snow. It may be typical to this particular city, but to me, snow in October is weird.

Sickness becomes her

Great news! I may only have to live through another year of being sick with everything under the sun and then I'll be hunky dory. I was just talking to a woman this morning who said that when she and her husband first moved to this mid-sized Canadian city 10 years ago they were sick on and off, almost every day, for two years. This was partially due to the slightly higher altitude and dry weather, and resulted in any number of health-related problems that could not be explained by conventional doctors. But, after those two miserable years they were fine and haven't been sick since. Doesn't that story just warm your heart? If the theory can be applied to me, it means that my body is in fact allergic to this city, but will only be for another year, and then I can continue to live the rest of my long, boring life in complete happiness (if such a thing is possible here). So only another year of stomach pains, headaches, unexplainable allergies, nosebleeds, and then I'll be fine? Fantastic. Should I just kill myself now, or would someone else like to do it?

My nose hates this city

I just got back from Mr Nose Doctor and apparently I have a slighty bent septum (maybe from bumping my head as a child, which is a distinct possibility as I was always falling down and bumping into things, and I still do) and a thin nose lining, so as long as I continue to live in this city (or any other dry city in a dry province) I will have nosebleeds during the winter. Isn't that just fanfuckingtastic? I waited 7 months to find that out, because that's how long it took to schedule me an appointment with this specialist guy, and this was after having nosebleeds at 1:30 pm every day (lunchtime) for about 6 months. This is yet another example of how I am allergic to my mid-sized Canadian city ... stomach pains that cannot be explained, allergies that may or may not be there, and a nose that won't quit. I think I need to do a pro and con list for my lovely mid-sized Canadian city.

Pro

• Pretty sparkly winters with actual snow that stays for longer than a day and an abundance of bright blue skies
• Awesome thunderstorms with dramatic thunder and lightning and the occasional downpour, but very little of the grey drizzly, misty rainy shit seen in Vancouver
• A relatively job good where I have a healthy budget, a supportive director, and lots of opportunity to update my blog while at work
• Nice co-workers
• A couple fun friends
• Cool (albeit expensive) apartment
• Dry weather lets me have nice, straight hair
• Mall stores (Reitmans, Smart Set, etc) with frequent sales

Con

• Shit for films
• No good concerts (except for David Usher last year, and that was a fluke)
• Dry and windy enough weather to give me nosebleeds, frequent electric shocks, and dry skin that cracks and bleeds
• Apartment has many pigeons (and their resulting shit), is like a sauna in the summer and freezer in the winter, and is high enough that it was hit by lightning once and may be again
• The relatively good job has many more dumb-ass teens than nice teens
• High level of drug abuse that helps explain the dumb-ass teens
• The nice co-workers are all way older than me and have teens of their own
• Shitty restaurants (down with the Mongolie Grill and their ecoli!)

I'm sure there are many other things, but I'll leave it there for now to demonstrate my dilemma - there are eight items on both those lists, which shows that while I may hate my job and city at times, there are also things I like about it, so it's not just an easy fuck it, I'm leaving decision. If it was, I would have left already.

Dirty tweens

Apparently my sweet little tweens are not so sweet after all ... the cute little group of 12-14 year olds, in my absence, have been talking dirty about me describing the ways in which they want to have sex with me. While I am flattered by this sentiment (ok, not really), that is just not cool at all. It's bad enough to not have any control whatsoever over a group of teenagers, but to then hear that they are fantasizing about you is even worse. What next - stalkers? Oh wait, I already have some of them. Today three different teens were enjoying themselves going through the non-fiction sex books, reading about penises and STDs to their heart's content and giggling like people addicted to laughing gas. When the one person I was actually trying to help was looking for books, J was wearing my glasses, S was on my chair, and other S was trying to hack into my computer and busy reading stories about circumcision out loud. It's no wonder I get no respect - I have no fucking control over these monkeys, and maybe never will. Should I give up, or just yell Shut the fuck up! really loudly so that everyone, teens and librarians, can hear me and know that I mean business? Maybe the satanic puppets should make an appearance and open up a can of wup-ass on these kids.

Dancing meat at the film festival

I just saw 9 films in 3 days - 7 at the Vancouver International Film Festival, and two others (Stormbreaker and Little Miss Sunshine), so I was happy about that for a few minutes but now I'm depressed because I'm back in my mid-sized Canadian city that has shit for films. Some of the good titles I saw: The Pervert's Guide to Cinema, narrated by "philosopher and psychoanalyst" and Slovenian superstar Slavoj Zizek (lotta Lynch and Hitchcock), a boring Paraguayan one (I actually fell asleep, but that could also be attributed to the comfy theatre and being a little drunk), an ok Turkish one, a very sweet "boy genius" Swiss one, and Lunacy.
I couldn't decide what the hell to say about Lunacy, so I stole the writeup from the VIFF guide, which helps to describe it.

Lunacy (Sílení) - Czech Republic, Directed By: Jan Svankmajer

Who's free? Who's mad? And what does all that raw meat have to do with it? Jan Svankmajer's characteristic stop-motion animation, here taking the form of slithering tongues, severed animal limbs and lumps of raw meat, punctuates this “philosophical horror film” which offers a forceful argument for the primacy of the body and its senses over the mind and rationality. Loosely based on short stories by Edgar Allan Poe and inspired by the Marquis de Sade, it unfolds in a bizarre version of 18th century France. Our hero, Jean Berlot, is haunted by nightmares in which he is dragged to a madhouse. A licentious Marquis observes Jean's nocturnal misery and later invites him to his chateau. There Jean witnesses a blasphemous orgy and learns about aversion therapies. Hoping to conquer his own fears, Jean reluctantly accompanies the Marquis to a lunatic asylum where the patients rampage freely and the staff have been tarred, feathered and locked in the dungeon... Veteran actor Jan Triska, marvelous here, will attend the festival.“Svankmajer has spent 40 years developing a distinctive visual style, and it's front and center in Lunacy. His nihilistic story isn't for everyone but he skillfully manages its disturbing execution in ways no one else could, and he brings it across in a darkly comedic way that encourages simultaneous laughter, horror and thought. If that isn't art, what is?"--Tasha Robinson, The Onion.

Jan Svankmajer Filmography: The Last Trick (64), The Garden (68), The Castle of Otranto (73-79), Alice (87), Faust (94), Conspirators of Pleasure (96), Little Otik (00)

Let's just say that this movie makes Eyes Wide Shut seem conservative, Christians will stop complaining about The Da Vinci Code and focus their attention on this, and that I may have to be a vegetarian for the next little while because I will never look at raw meat the same way again. For those of you who won't see it (likely all of you), the best scene is the last one: after a movie of dancing raw meat and severed tongues, the shot is of a supermarket meat aisle, and zooms in to one lone steak in a plasticized package where the plastic is moving slowly in and out, as the meat tries to breathe. This was either the best or the worst film I have ever seen (I haven't decided which), but it certainly was the most memorable. This seems to be a pattern in Svankmajer's films - Faust with puppets, a tree stump with an appetite for blood in Little Otik - say what you want about him, but he certainly makes films that are hard to forget.