Rogue tells it how it is...

Twelve hours ago I was jumping out of the shower and scurrying to my job (of which I love but refer to as Food Prostitution to give it more flair than TGIFridays) when it occurred to me that sleeping for a few hours would be really really wonderful. I look over at Rogue who lay sprawled out on her back on the couch, her front limbs stretched above her head and her rear paws reaching as far as they can limply go on that beat up but far too comfy damn orange sectional. She looks like Canaan and I must have when we spent way too much time watching X-Files (or Judge Judy- oh so sad),  lazing about in 1oo degree weather with our eyes wincing from either the heat or a hang over, which we couldn't really tell. I walk over and say her name. No response. I pick up her head and she squints at me with one eye, the other still closed, almost wincing: a warning that it isn't going to work; she's ignoring me. When I let go, her head falls: dead weight. She lets out a little sigh, and in 1 minute is snoring. I was jealous of her afternoon nap briefly but then I realized, she earned it.

I started thinking that maybe I sleep half the day because my neighbors are obnoxious, and Rogue wakes me up to warn me when they are being so. That wasn't very clear... basically they are either fighting loudly or having make up sex loudly at any given moment of the day. Preferably 5 AM but hey... noon is okay too, and so is 5 PM. Prior to my neighbor's girlfriend living there- and I don't really know she lives there but I hear her shrill voice often enough to assume she must- he was a really quiet guy. Other than the occasional sound of video games and death metal, never a peep. Actually, I still never hear him. I just hear the sound of a late teenage or early 20-something speaking all too loudly (and therefore identifying her age, or maybe complete instability at age 40):

"He has a girlfriend you f*%k!" (she definitely cheated)

"You never listen to me!" (How cliche. For the record: he has no choice, they can hear you in mongolia)

"Please just stop being such an as#$%le!" (please?! Really lady?)

"You are soooo stupid!" (but you sound so stupid)

(And other things of which I don't want to hear- and certainly not speak about- but we've all fallen victim to that as part of life in an apartment setting.)

When this happens Rogue and I scowl at the wall wishing we had some sort of superpower where we could either instantly stitch her mouth shut, freeze her or maybe just drop a pan on her head. Rogue lets out a little growl, quietly. 

 

Rogue is really intuitive... she knows when people are freaks. In fact, she has never disliked anyone I have had in my home save one woman who came to my house a few years ago with a friend. She was peculiar as it was but when she asked us to play a "sex game" she had in the car, we were all blown away. Luckily, none of us played this "sex game", thinking the request really strange of someone we had met just a few hours before. I imagine now it would have ended something like this: all of us tied up with cuts all over our bodies like the husband no one knew she had. Rogue hated her. She growled at her under her breath and backed away from her. At the time I thought Rogue was just being inexplicably moody but after I read the story in the paper, I decided to trust her instinct. If she growls in a fearful but harmless way at some one's voice... stay away! Rogue is right about them and a girl like me could use a side kick who, unlike myself, isn't amused by crazy people (remember when I prayed with that old lady from the cult on the Commons for an hour and was late to work? Yeah, I felt bad for her, but an hour?! And the horror of watching Jesus' crucifixion in flip-book form!)

So I realize, maybe I don't get the afternoon nap, and maybe I need to pimp the potatoes but hey, at least I know I don't have to keep track of the neighbors because Rogue does it for me. Rogue is well beyond the sacrifice of being woken up at 5 AM, and I am now too. I love that little growl...

 

At the Library

There are several ways to look at graduating with a useless degree. One is that you have a lot of time to contemplate the several other degrees you might have earned if you were more patient, cared about the subject, or just, I don't know, focused a little. This route, is not recommended because it really is self-annihilating. The second way to look at at: there are about a million other people with useless degrees so why worry? I mean most of the HDev and English majors have even lower odds of getting a job. The last way is well, maybe that psychology BA is pointless but now you will be forced to have an MA or phD (think wisely and you'll only need an MA!) which isn't so horrible and when you really think about it, is probably a really good thing. Especially if you are a dork most of the time anyway: may as well find yourself traipsing about the library for another 2-6 years. The girl at the circulation desk is nice and sometimes even lets you take books out without signing them out.

This brings me to another point: no one uses the library. Well, they use it to touch the over-shared computers and spread germs all over while they do things like use Facebook (I swear I am starting a "Crackbook Rehab" for at least a few people), buy shoes online, watch cartoons, or ahem, blog. I personally never use those computers due to the prior mentioned germ factor but... on rare occasion I am compelled to use it to print something and can never seem to use it due to the other people NOT doing anything. In terms of books though, no one uses them. Internet research.  I can't say I am critiquing the lack of library use: it IS easier to just do it from home. What makes me happy about it is that one can hide in the library among the books because there is no one else to find you. As the floors go up, only half the lights are on to conserve energy; almost like a horror movie where the florescent light is flickering ever so slightly among the rows of knowledge past. You can read here in quiet, nap, eat a sandwich or an entire meal including a bottle of wine because there is no chance anyone will interrupt and if there is someone else, they will likely lay out their own picnic or pillow. Library users are a rare breed. I have to admit, I wouldn't mind being a librarian, if only I thought librarians would have jobs in the future. It's like the job of the village soothsayer who fumbles through the dusty leafs and exclaims, "Here it is, I knew I had it. The story of man!" This version of the story of man, unlike the internet, is solid in form. Maybe for that reason it is outdated- things change so quickly these days and it is easier to update a website than reprint a million books. Yet, there's a serenity afforded by turning the pages and holding onto someone's master work. At least I think so. I was recently at a museum where I saw 15th and 16th century books, handwritten and decorated with real gold. I would give a kidney to own one just because it is handwritten. Maybe I should have been born in another time?

Back to the job hunt...  When you are looking both for jobs and for graduate schools, life is a little hectic. I figured I'd work on both and then make a decision. Honestly, I could use the year off from the pressure of either thing. Working full time and going to school full time throughout the undergrad experience wasn't particularly terrible but at times was exhausting. I was convinced at one point that days were not 24 hours but were closer to 36 or 48. I even thought they were 72 at one point but the almost-dementia related to that length of a day was not worth it. I continue hunting. I had an offer to teach in China, and I just received, from posting to a job site, a few invitations to apply for some other jobs. None of them really fascinate me, and they don't pay well enough for me to overlook that. 

I'm compiling a list of graduate schools... The New School, Berkley, Syracuse University (Maxwell), CB: maybe Boston (Chomsky is there after all), John Hopkins, and then all the fancy 'big name' schools that I don't know whether or not I could get into without giving away a kidney.  Right now, I am just aiming to get into a program that suits my needs. After 26 years of living I have decided what my calling is and know what to study- finally- the where part is the hard part. It is important to get the where right because I'll be spending considerable time there. The 'what' will be basically the same any place I go because that depends extensively on me. 

Now think back to high school when they told us if we went to college we'd have insta-job. They forgot the asterisk and the "some restrictions may apply" part. But I will say, it has been an interesting adventure to get here and it will be even more interesting to see where else this venture goes.