I ching?

So, when I was working for Fox books, my friend Tim told me about the I Ching. It's the same book, but when you look at it every day, the message changes. I used to feel that way about Eat Cake. Now, Sex and the City re-runs are my I Ching. (I suppose as a Christian, the Bible should be, but I'd rather not say the Bible is my Buddhist answer book.)

I used to have Eat Cake sitting on top of the CD player in the loo, so I read bits every day. And it always spoke to me. Then I dated a struggling musician and had intimacy issues and money problems and Eat Cake was no longer removed enough from my life. I haven't touched it in a long time. (Soon, I think, I'll be ready to re-read.)

But now, when I have a vile day, I know exactly which episode to turn to: when I can't cry because something horrible happened, I go to the one where Miranda's mother dies and Sam can't get a release until the funeral. Or yesterday, I went for the one where Carrie rebounds with the new Yankee and then cries in his mouth after seeing Big in a bar. She dials the pay phone and you don't know who she's talking to, and you don't know who she's meeting "at our place" until the camera pans to Miranda.

I gotta go. It's this thing called work. They pay me to correct catalog records and help pubescent boys find the next great sci fi series, preferably one he has never heard of. (He's tired of vampires, when I recommend a Westerfeld.) (Me too.)

Lint Gate continues...

Except now, it's not about the lint.

So...I waited all week to do laundry, knowing that I didn't want to have to deal with it on a night that I worked til 9pm. So last night, I put a load in around 6:30 p.m. I moved around some books for an hour, went back downstairs at 7:30. Well, it was still going, but at least it was in the "Final Spin."

I did a bunch of other stuff, including getting a Popsicle, calling my parents (line busy), calling Michigan Sally, and gabbing away. While we were talking, I thought, let me just see where the load is, maybe I can transfer stuff to dryer. Um. Still in "Final Spin," a half hour later.

My clothes were almost dry! Who needs a dryer? So I unplugged the washer (there may be a shut off switch, but this is a laundromat style coin-op and so there aren't really dials to work with.) Upstairs again, I wrote an email to the landlord.

Luckily, I washed towels and underwear last night, so I'm set for a week. I have enough shirts to last me a while, since my mom and I did 4 loads of laundry when she came to visit a few weeks ago.

On the depression front--my body is doing bizarre things that feel like "not depression":

• I couldn't sleep last night (which feels like hypomania).
  
• I am eating everything in sight (including opening a can of tuna with a church key b/c my can opener is broken) (And yes, I know hunger is a depression symptom, but when I lick the plate clean, that seems hypomanic to me.)
• Today in the morning, I was Ms. Motormouth, and at lunch, too.
  

But this afternoon, at work on the Children's reference desk, I retreated inward and in between helping patrons, I transferred my Twitter favorites into Delicious. I grunted at patrons, and told them we didn't have books, (but then I found myself wrong, and delighted them.) So, I can still do my job, and well, but I am like dead wood inside. Argh.

Stolen moments

(I think that must be a name of a sappy song they play on "nostalgia radio")

So I'm sitting here with wet hair, no socks, and no, I'm not taking a walk around the block today. TOMORROW I will take a walk.

But I wanted to have something else up, in case you were tired of politics. (I'm not, I might start a third blog with all the cool YouTubes n'at, now that he won.)

So...if you haven't been here for a while, scroll down, I finally posted some pictures. They are pretty. (And some are pretty in pink.)

And now I'm having a bit of blogger's block. Yes, right in the middle of my stolen moments post.

Well, okay, I'll give you sumpin. Someone I know is turning 37 at the end of this month. (YES, it's me!!) And I'm having a teeny tiny get together. And I invited a boy. And for once, I don't care on pins and needles if he comes. He is not the crown jewel around which the party has been planned. He was almost an afterthought, if I were that cool. (I'm not.) But if he does, he'll be the icing on an already great cake, and I will do my best to play not so easy to get. Oh, but I sure hope he's my lobster. (It's only fitting that I give you a Phoebe clip, since the entire paragraph has been a Phoebe-ism.)

Okay, gotta find socks. Buh bye!

Yes, yes we can.

More to come. But for now, the thought that has come that yesterday, working as a poll worker in the city of Pittsburgh, yesterday I was both the obstetrician and the nervous pacing father and the screaming mother as I helped my fellow citizens give birth to the vote of the 44th president, Barack Hussein Obama.

But for now, I need to get dressed (oh, and eat breakfast) and sing songs to some 80 children and parents.

I'm taking the afternoon off (hopefully taking both Sally and Marian the Librarian to lunch first) and to work on (gah!) the latest resume/cover letter.

"If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog. --Harry Truman." (Tim Russert's wife on the Today show right now.)

Gee, do I have to turn the TV off? Thank you, Lord, for NPR. I am so glad that I can now listen to the radio with hope and no more political ads, woo hoo!

I promise a real post this afternoon, including a link to the speech Obama referenced (Lincoln's first inagural.) I have no time to link now.

Mwah! And I mean that, to my readers on both sides of the aisle. Let's be the dream, not a red, or a blue, but a United States of America.

...and I'm outta here! (image of Dennis Miller, SNL Weekend Update style.)

Pleasant words are like a honeycomb...

(Proverbs 16:24)

It's amazing what joining a small group (women's Bible study) has done for me. I've been to a Pirate's game, attended part of a murder mystery party, and by not going on Monday, someone wrote on my FB wall saying, "we missed you." And someone else got me on G-chat just as I was shutting my computer off at work last night. And my picture has been featured in two FB albums (and I have pictures I have to post...)

And as I bite my nails over the latest "what if?," another opportunity, which looks pretty good too, shows up. I think the universe is telling me to lighten up.

And if all else fails, starting in September, I'll up my work hours to 40/week (from a current 35) and that will be my car payment. I talk to Dad tonight.

On my walk, I realized I still am such a baby blogger. I'm still trying to figure out who I am, where I am, and what this blog is.

But hey, look at the time! If I'm getting a shower, I gotta go.

More better writing later, I promise. Oooh, and maybe pictures. Kiki and I are neck to neck on kitchen beautifying. I have the easier task (do the dishes). She's painting hers. Oi.

Have just started Love me Tender. Really gotta go now.

****

Thanks to Helen, here is another post about using [pleasant] words, by Susan Estrich. I especially like this bit: As my friend Jack used to say, 90 percent of life is just showing up. In hard times, it's probably closer to 99 percent.

A little repast, or repost.

Okay, so this is not food for your stomach, or maybe not even your heart. But it's food for my heart, and I'm sharing it with you.

I have been shook to my foundations in the past coupla days. Each day requires more than a 15 minute explanation, but here's the "Twitter version."

Saturday: red gatorade, car seat, three shirts, two library books. one friend, oxyclean, and lunch. (It will make a fun post someday. I'm not completely ready to make that much fun of myself.) It's better in the oral form not the written word.

Sunday: long meandering chat with my daddy, Sunrise (an item on the menu, not the time of day) at Quiet Storm, visit with Babs, no move the sofa...yet. Ice cream.

Monday: a disaster, humble pie, I survived, I love my therapist, I love my friends, my shirts (see Saturday) are okay, joined a new Bible Study. many many children with questions about books.

Today: haven't spoken outloud to a person yet, but have "g-chatted" with Kiki, facebooked with a new friend (from Bible Study), and had a cry. Hormones anyone? Happy Canada Day!

Sunday at church BJ asked us if we had any thoughts on the Holy Spirit, since we've been taking in sermons on the ghost himself since early June. I said I've been learning that the HS has my back. So this morning, when my eyes kept getting drawn to a book I bought at Goodwill ages ago, I took it off the shelf. There was already a marker at my favorite passage, which I posted about a while back. I'll see if I can pull that post, but here's the passage, first:

Our moments of happiness are those when we see a burning light through the bars of our personal prison, when for some amazing reason we look out through the cracks; or perhaps by suffering with someone in charity, we leap out of the prison itself , guided by the Spirit, which has never lost its New Testament talent for walking through brick walls. The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key, that comes form time to time and unlocks the heavy doors.

(Donald Swann)

There's a poem that reminds me of this passage, in the post I posted on this before. Hold the phone whilst I browse...

**********

(Well, that was a walk down mem'ry lane. I had no idea I'd posted SO many post on poetry. This comes from a post in the halcyon days of blackbird's Show and Tell and the summer of Loretta's List Friday.)

When I fantacize your kisses it rattles me,
like downing four mugs of coffee in advance of noon,
making me tremble unnervingly through the whole lunch hour.
But your real kisses,
when they come to me,
calm me like half a Valium chased with beer,
so that my convict heart stops banging its cup on the bars--
because the iron door has suddenly shuddered open,
and the guard's waving me out,
waving me out with a smile
after all these years.

(Joseph Hutchinson) (I'm assuming my link is the same guy--I have no actual proof.)

********

So, since that old post is from June, I am reminded that for me, summer is all about love and love lost. Egads, the mental energy I exude...for me, February has nothing on June, because at least in February EVERYONE else is also angsty.

But it's July now. Um. Anyways.

I think I'm going to go visit Loretta, and then get into the real part of this day which involves clean hair and looking like a Children's librarian.

Would you look at the time??

Yesterday...love was such an easy game to play...

It was like a dream: a book that I'm on the wait list for (with at least 300 other people) was there, on the shelf, at the Squirrel Hill library in their Bestsellers. I squealed, and went off to lunch at Gullifties. (Yes, I'm eating out less, but Monday lunch is a non-negotiable.)

Emily Giffin hit the scene a few years ago with Something Borrowed and Something Blue. LOVE those books. Couldn't read Baby Proof, I draw the line at reading too many books about people wanting babies. (Since I'm clearly so ambivalent...not.) Anyways, I was excited about her latest, Love the one you're with. I spent the afternoon and evening reading it. Ah, to be caught up in a book.

Even if it wasn't the best book (I still maintain that her first two are her best, and I own them in paperback), it was a great way to spend hours. Ellen is a girl who discovers photography, loves NYC, and marries into old Southern aristocracy. It's about meeting the guy who was not so great for her a year after she married her husband. For all of us who dated (at least) one of those intense types, it's a good read.

I probably would have been less hard on her as a writer if she hadn't chosen Pittsburgh as the hometown for her heroine. Her references to da Burgh seemed stiff, like she'd only read a wikipedia article or something. (Her facts were right, but...no soul.) Go back to your roots, Em!

Geez, I'm 15 minutes late for a date with myself for a walk...oh, and I didn't do the TCK call either, I napped yesterday afternoon. Yep, I'm into the beginning of SUMMER, my least favorite season. I'll try to be positive here, but no guarantees. I still have clean underwear though.

Monday, Monday, can't trust that day...

From now on, you'll have to expect tiny spoilers from the SATC movie. I will try to not give it all away, but them's my girls, and I feel like writing about them is as normal as writing about having coffee with Babs at Tazzo. [-ed.]

So I'm I guess in a burst of writing, since I've posted at least once a day in the past four.

I'm still just reading Philip in the morning--we go through these seasons. When I say just, it's because I'd rather be in a place where I'm finishing up the Beth Moore homework that I didn't do for the entire study, just about. Or reading the Psalms at least, and marking up my Bible. But Philip lets me know what I know--there are seasons. God bless him.

And last night BJ's sermon was on the spiritual gifts. And he said, I'm not going to give you something you a pat answer, now you'll know your gifts. This is a life long journey. He said that a couple times throughout, just to make sure we got the point. Thank God! I don't have to be perfect today, or even tomorrow. Good, cause this sinus infection is cramping my style. Yes, after one round of antibiotics, I'm still not feeling great. I went to bed last night at 9:30 and woke up at 7:30 a.m. Yo, that's not because I'm depressed. It's cause I'm exhausted.

(drat, I didn't get a handout!) (BJ had handouts about spiritual gifts...I'll have to email him.) (Well, I was going to email him anyways, I'm hoping to get a small group started this summer.)

At the end of the service, we prayed for two families, one who is going through what they hope is adoption (they're foster parenting the child right now, the court hearing is Wednesday) and one family who is pregnant but just found out there might be complications. It felt good to stand there, laying hands on the families, praying for them. The OD is growing up, yo! Not that we haven't prayed for folks up front before, but BJ went around, asked the families if they wanted that, asked the church leaders what they thought, and well, you know, it was Presbyterian. But nothing frozen about it. (I only learned in my adulthood that Presbyterians are often called God's frozen chosen.) I don't think I've met a frozen Presbyterian in Pittsburgh yet.

I had put a bookmark (well, truth be told, my bookmarks are often napkin holders from restaurants, you know, the paper that holds the napkin closed with the silverware inside) in what I read yesterday morning. I read some more today, but went back to see what it was that I had bookmarked (I had a bookmark for where I'd stopped yesterday, but another one to remind me of what I'd read yesterday--two bookmarks.)

Anyways. Is anyone still reading this gobbledygook? Yesterday I put a marker on this paragraph.

"'Tempting God means trying to get more assurance than God has given,' said the wise Bishop Lesslie Newbigen. I have to face the honest fact that Christians live in poverty, get sick, lose their hair and teeth, and wear eyeglasses at approximately the same rate as everyone else." (oh, will someone tell that to the advertisers of the local Christian radio station?!!) Phil goes on, and here's the kicker: "Christians die at exactly the same rate: 100 percent." [emphasis mine -ed.]

It's not health and wealth, youth at any cost. Yes, women can be fabulous and single at 50 (Thank you Samantha!) It's okay to ask for prayer for a summer sinus infection. (Afterwards, I had one guy come up and say, I'm fighting one too.)

I was late to church yesterday. I came in during the second song. (We generally sing three songs at the beginning.) The chairs are fixed funny so there's less "back row" seating. I'm sure that's on purpose, but for those of us that like back row seating, it's a little unnerving. And Alyssa's on vacation, so I couldn't sit with her on the rug with the kids. So I stood in the back. Finally, I got myself a folding chair, and since there was no logical place to add it on to the funny way the chairs were situated, I sat against the wall. Yes, I was my very own church wallflower. When he wasn't singing, my friend S. was sitting back there too, so that was a comfort. And I was right by the fan, so BJ gave me a job--bless him, I was the one to turn the fan on and off.

It's a life long journey, yins. We go through times of belonging so hard we can't imagine a time we didn't belong. We go through times of feeling like we can't see through the dirty glass no matter how many times we wash it (bird poo has that effect.) And every once and awhile, we get a hug. Or just good eye contact. A couple of smiles and a conversation.

Have a great Monday. I have to get ready for walking the treadmill, talking to my therapist, and ack! I have to go to Trader Joes today! But at least if I have to go to the grocery store, it's one where they try to make things fun. Be forewarned, I may take pictures.

Oh, look at the time!

happy birthday to Princess Julianna and Queen Beatrix!

Can you tell I'm Dutch? I called my folks because I needed someone to tell me to go for a walk and my mother said, of course you should it's a beautiful day and the last day of April. and my dad said something about Queen Beatrix that my mother didn't get, so she handed him the phone. Go google it. I have to take a quick shower and run off to sing to babies.

So, I think I forgot to post yesterday. Well, so I won't be winning a prize for napoblomo. oh well. Tomorrow is May 1st!!

okay, gotta go.

I'm thinking I want an ipod. Because I don't think I've EVER heard the last song on the Wedding Bell Blues soundtrack and it's really a nice one. (You know, b/c a CD starts back on the first song if you're using a Discman or somesuch.) Rambling, gotta go.

okay, really going now.

Back to work...

So yes, my schedule is Tuesday-Saturday, so today would be like your Monday, if you are most people in the working world. I generally attend a Women's Bible Study (which is what we call it, hence the caps, WBS for short) on Tuesday mornings, but today I feared I would go nuts if I tried that, as at 11 a.m. I have a therapy session and from noon to four I have a work "retreat." (Um, the only "retreat"-ish thing about it is that we will be off site. It's to talk about strategic long term planning. Our library turns 40 this year in October, so the board has decided that it's time to get serious. Or something. Anyways. I figured my introvert sirens would be going at full blast anyways by the time we hit four o'clock, so to add going to WBS (which I'd be leaving early anyways, b/c of therapy...) (This, the last month of seeing my therapist, I have had to change days because she's not available on Mondays, except for our last session.) (Looking at this paragraph, I realize an English teacher would make it bleed. Which is why I'm not an English teacher. Which is why this is MY blog.)

So. I woke up at 5 am feeling feverish. I stumbled to the loo, stumbled back to bed, at some point stripping off the socks I'd been wearing. I figured a) I might sleep off the fever and b) I was not in a clear enough mind to find the thermometer, much less take my temperature. So I went back to bed. And when I woke up, I felt less feverish but more congested, still with the slight sore throat...and I'm a little disappointed that I don't have a fever... but it is completely possible that I will use some of my accumulated comp time as a sick "rest of the" day after the "retreat."

***
Pause for phone call from Dad. He and I are often each other's "internet librarians," so I'm off to find the phone number of a chiropractor/physical therapist I used when I lived in Virginia with them. Generally, the conversation starts with "are you by your computer?" The good news is my dad went to the bone doctor this morning, no longer has to wear the sling, which he referred to as a "noose" in our short (for us) conversation. There were conversational alleys I could have veered us onto but didn't because I still have much to do this morning. It is a treat though, that I enjoy talking to my father, that I'm related to this interesting and fun man.

***

Am generally amazed at how easy Google searches are. In library school, I had an entire class on "Retrieving Information" and the professor, was he ever CUTE. Sigh. But as a children's librarian at my library,* I rarely have to do searches involving online subscription journals--my dad as a library patron is more well versed in those than I (and his library has a much better online selection than ours...). So my "online retrieval skills" are not the best beyond "look up a phone number," but I'm really good at that one retrieval type. I sometimes fill in at the adult reference desk when Adult Services has their monthly meeting and some of the questions they get...gah!

Well, it is the 10 o'clock hour, so to fit in a shower etc., I must bid you, dear reader, adieu. (Which makes me think of The Sound of Music but I mustn't down any blog-writing alleys either.

STOP!

mtc,

SL

___________________
*reference work varies from library to library. Our patrons don't ask a lot of questions beyond "I'm looking for books about...." but I can't be so narrow as to say that exemplifies ALL children's reference work.

spoke too soon

Um, yeah.

So remember about February being great?

Yah, my therapist is leaving the practice at the end of March, I've been in "stalled" mode for the past coupla days...whine whine whine.

BUT...yesterday's weed-a-pa-looza (my friend Kelley organized some of us librarians to help another library weed its collection) was super fun.

And Juno won for best screenplay at the Oscars.

And my momma's back from Mexico.

And if I don't wrap this up, I'll be late to work. But it's been a while, I just wanted to shout out to my three readers (hee!)

MTC,

SL

Why I have nothing for you this morning...

I spent all my good words commenting over at Eliza Jane's blog...

and I'm off to get ready for my first full day of work this week. (I went in for three hours yesterday b/c otherwise L would have been the only one in our dept.)

Peace out, dudes.

Square peg--round--ughngh!! hole

Yep, it's not as if I hadn't realized this at other junctures in my life, but allow me to elaborate:

• I am 36. Most other people I know my age are: married, homeowners, and with children, one or more. I am single, renting, and thankfully, (see first two points) childless.
  
• I go to a church where most people are 26, married, homeowners and/or parents.
• I work in a building where most women are 40+, homeowners, and grandmothers. Oh, and they all live 5 minutes from the building.
  

(I'm using all and most a bit too generously, but this is my anonymous blog, I can be black and white for once.)

• Oh, lots of other stuff.
  

Just came back from appointment with psychiatrist. This is our typical appointment: "Well, I see no reason to change anything, do you need any refills, come back in [time period contingent on how depressed I seem at time of visit]." I ADORE my psychiatrist, but he's a psychiatrist and therefore not helpful on the soft side of things--he's good at dispensing drugs, not advice. Which is fine. But I hate the fact that I'm close enough to the edge that I'm going back at the end of this month instead of mid-next month. But I'm grateful that he cares enough to know that I need to come sooner. ARGH!!

But good news, I have been funded to go to Minneapolis for the Public Library Association Conference. And probably Marian the Librarian and I will be roomies!!

So I think I can put aside fantasies of taking people's temperatures. I told Marian about my aspirations to becoming a nurse and she said, "two words: sponge bath." I told her if I was supporting an artistic husband, it might become an option again, but for now, I think I can live on what I make and ENJOY what I do. (Not that I don't think I'd enjoy being a nurse, I just think I'd enjoy staying a librarian for now.)

Okay, gotta go. Off to coffee with a friend.

In which I find myself commenting all over the place...

This morning, I have travelled to Chicago (Hi Poppy!) and Oz (Hi Suse) and Canada (Hi Jess).

I left long comments, and so my brain has nothing left for writing here.

Let's see: I went to TJ Maxx last night b/c I was waiting for the 6:55 movie...I got really cute Sketcher shoes and a brown turtleneck.* Which it is too warm to wear today, I think.

checking the temperature...58 degrees.

I may get my car back today. (One does not like to hear the word "snafu" from the auto body guy, but he wouldn't give more details.) After which, I'll start trying to recruit someone to go with me to the dealership to say, um, well, I don't know what I'll say. But something akin to it sucks that this major part broke on my car two days after I bought it and the warranty you sold me doesn't cover that part.

Okay, I'd better shower and get ready for Women's Bible Study. We're studying Colossians. No Beth Moore? Oh, alright, I'll go anyways...

________________
*My aunt gave me some money for Christmas. I couldn't see explaining to her that I spent it on two seasons of Sex and the City. So a turtleneck and cute shoes--that's pretty good for twenty bucks!!

movie quote here

Must see movie: Juno (you must, I just did.)

things that make me happy: my Joy bracelet, which seriously needs restrung. (Yes, I know that sentence needs a "to be," I'm from Pixburgh, get over it.

Items procurred at GE:
Amy's bowls pesto tortellini
Amy's wraps spinach and feta
Funny birthday card for co-worker
Seasons 4&5 of SATC on DVD (Iggle Video is going out of business. Sandy, if you see seasons 2, 3, or 6, I'll pay you back!)

I am a mess. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Because I'm realizing that everyone else is a mess too.

Sat next to a cute guy at church (or he sat in my seat while I was looking for water, causing me to lose my bulliten.) But his name is way too long (he was filling in the address info on his brand new journal during the time the guy from Scripture Union was talking.) And I had to say hi, my name is Sarah Louise when the service was over, he gave me his name (I'm not telling you, c'mon.) but that was it. I think he's probably younger (well, aren't all the guys in Pittsburgh?) I could have had my lunch paid for at Panera by my dear friend M, but I was too quick. Oh well. She's a dear heart, a octogenarian widow who I often have lunch with after I go to Bellefield for church.

My dad called this afternoon, just to chat, before I went off to the movie. What a great guy. He just wanted to see how I was and then talk my ear off, because, well, yesterday when I called my mom, I told her how bad the depression had gotten. Today I have felt just blank, and the sobbing in the bathroom stall at the movies was yes, for me, but it was started by the ending of the movie (which was beautiful, but you know girls, they cry at beautiful stuff too.)

So my eggplant something that I got in the organic frozen foods at GE is ready and I just heard Mr. First Floor come in. I'll eat my dinner and off to church.

While I may not be the brightest bulb in the galaxy, I have figured out that me trying to psychoanylze him isn't going to make him come back and say, hey, that "liability" thing I said, forget about it, I want you back. So it's okay for me to watch movies and read books where people have happy romantic endings, but I don't think this is one of them. If I didn't have to go eat something, I'd pull up a perfect Nick Hornby quote for that from Jess in A long way down. Maybe next time.

Til then, keep your stick on the ice.

Accept the fluster of lost keys...*

I woke up this morning with these words (the title) going through my head. As I think about how to be kind and honest and still be me (transparently me) on this blog, I am at a loss.

Ugh.

Not that I was necessarily being unkind, but I wasn't being exactly kind by writing about someone else currently (sort of) in my life without his permission (and possibly with out his knowledge), writing on the Internet, which is open to all.

I just finished reading a book called "I found it on the Internet," which is about teens and their uses of the Internet, etc. I cannot imagine having a blog with my real name where I wrote about my feelings--I'm waiting to be a grown-up, I guess. A blog with my real name would have to be about being a librarian, or the mechanics of being a writer. But not about ex-boyfriends and about being still single at the Christmas of my 36th year.

"Children's work is play. Teenager's work is socialization." I think about how guilty I feel about checking Facebook at work, how, when I started this blog, I vowed that I wouldn't write in it during work hours. The problem, I think is (at least) dual: I am lonely. I am bored. These things don't go away when I'm at work. So while I am generally always having work to do when I'm in the Technical Services dept, when I'm done with a task, I "treat" myself and check my email, Facebook. In Children's, it is more pervasive (is that the right word?)--when I'm at the desk, I generally don't take "work" with me. This means the Internet is right there, calling my name. "Come play!" Instead of reading blogs that might be pertinent to my job (there are a lot, librarians blog a lot), I use the time to catch up with my friends.

A Zits comic strip really brought it home. The mom comes over to Jeremy and says (something like) "Your father and I are worried that you aren't spending any time with your friends. Is there something wrong?" She talks for all four frames, meanwhile Jeremy is sitting at the computer. Each frame has a little factoid that announces something about Jeremy's online life. Frame 1: (and this is from memory, the book is at work) 187 IM friends. Frame 2: 31 blogs. Frame 3: 325 unread emails. Frame 4: Jeremy says, "Not enough time."

Truer words were never spoken. The online world is always there. In the words of country singer, Alan Jackson, "It's five o'clock somewhere." So someone is ALWAYS "online." And I have friends in Thailand and the Czech Republic, so they're online at different times because they're in a different time zone.

I have had time to send how many emails, post how many blog posts, check my Facebook profile, etc. etc. But I have not MADE time to write a letter to a friend who has written me three letters (on stationery) in the past couple of months. Part of it is that ohmigosh, it is 9:15 and it is soooo easy to lose time on the Internet!

(But I showered first. I do have to eat breakfast, though.)