work. work is good. quiet. easy paced. the pressure is small. i still feel a little thrilled in my stomach when i come over commonwealth bridge and see the library.i work t h e r e... the idea of it is very exciting. the paycheck. the thought of contributing to something bigger than myself. the library is more like a book museum in that the books are kept not so much for public access as for the sake of history. my day is structured around cataloguing books. the brand new ones. by law publishers are obligated to send in a copy of evrything they publish and i get to open the packages.
but as it does the boredom is slowly slowly creeping in. nothing terminal. just a need to wiggle ones bottom in ones chair. roll the ankles. stretch. in times of boredom i reach for my mp3. it has kept me sane on crazy bus rides in india, helped me sleep late at night when all my brain do is wonder and wonder about this and about that... but i listen to my music now and it is ok but does not thrill me. it doesn't reverberate in me like it did.
violently happy. off bjork's debut.
since i met you
this small town hasn't got room
for all my big feelings
it doesn't ring as it did. before it would set me off. happy. mostly hoping the boy i was violently happy just to know would be thinking of me too. but i guess things have changed. he doesn't make me violently happy anymore. i just wonder if i will ever be lucky enough to feel that feeling again. to want to listen to all my music about boys and love and happiness again and again... not because i yearned to feel what the musicians and writers were feeling but because they explained what was in me so well.