Library Adventures, Part One

As I think I've mentioned before, I work as an evening/weekend supervisor at the Berry College Memorial Library. From time to time we get some interesting characters in there. For instance, there's this one guy who calls himself Faruq who pops in from time to time. Faruq is really into conspiracy theories, and has gotten the impression somewhere along the way that I am likeminded enough to want to hear him talk about them for hours on end. Because that's what he does. Twice now I have been victim to his unique ability to wax paranoid on an incessant level. In both cases I required rescue from others working here, who were both able to "require my assistance" when they saw my plight. Plight? you might ask. Why did I let him talk for so long? It's a result of the combination of a few factors. The first, and perhaps major, factor is that I'm just plain unassertive. I have a tendency to let people walk over me, talk over me, and generally dominate interactions, which is tempered only by my tendency to avoid repeated encounters with people who do that kind of thing. Second, I find honesty important enough that I would feel bad if I falsely claimed to have work to do. Thirdly, I try to be politely disinterested. I figure that if I let him have his say, he'll eventually finish making his point, or realize that I'm not interested. So, I don't talk unless absolutely necessary. I'll nod, say "mm-hmm", and in extreme situations ask questions. Otherwise, I look at the clock, shift my weight, sigh, put obstacles between us, and not talk. All the non-verbal signs of somebody who's not willing to be engaged in conversation with you, right? Unfortunately, this has no effect on someone with as much social awareness as a bucket of kidney stones. He talks of Illuminati, Bohemian Grove, September 11. He talks while I'm helping other library patrons. He talks for at least half an hour.

At one point last night, he wanted to check out a book. Our circulation desk worker informed him that community cards were $5. He claimed he had checked out books before (unlikely, as he was never in our system, even under his real name, Clarence), and even gotten interlibrary loans. I backed up the circ worker, saying that thought that may have been, the system now required $5 from community patrons. The circ worker threw in the fact that he had been enjoying library resources, such as the computers, for free, whereas students must pay a technology fee each semester. Good point, especially when you consider the sheer volume of stuff he prints out. Anyways, I think my point was somewhere in the area of awareness. Does he not realize that I am not mentally engaged in the conversation? Does he ignore it? Am I the only person who doesn't tell him he's crazy, and that's why he keeps on talking?

People who get so caught up in the study of stuff like that scare me a little bit. Let me rephrase that. Faruq himself doesn't scare me, but an obsessive mindset like that does. It's not a way I want to be, not even when it comes to things that are highly important to me, like my religion. I had a Sunday School teacher once who is a lot like Faruq, but is obsessive in the same way about eschatology and gifts of the Spirit and whatnot. I don't think obsession (I hate overusing that work, but I can't think of a better one) like that is healthy, no matter where it's applied.

In closing, Faruq in particular reminds me of the words of a particular wise man:
"...a fool's voice is known by multitude of words."

My Head Asplode

Ugh. Applying to graduate schools is not fun. Not fun at all.

All work and no play make Casey a dull boy.
All work and no play make Casey a dull boy.
All work and no play make Casey a dull boy.
All work and no play make Casey a dull boy.

Okay, you get the point. Crazy going soon probably. No time fun arrrggh. Must pay for transcripts and GRE score reporting. And application fees. And write.
Write
write
writewriteriterightriyarglbxtwqz.

On the road again

Today, as I was driving across some town's main street along Highway 120, and I saw a guy with a sueded leather jacket and a scally cap holding a sheet of white poster board that said "Hug?" on it. I was tempted to turn around, park my car, and give him one. Though it must have seemed creepy or dorky to a lot of people, I saw that he was trying to inject a little random humor and friendliness into the day. I appreciate that, and the purely unadulterated smile it gave me.

Hey...unadulterated smile...now that could be a good band name.

What I did before work today

Here's a morsel from the cartoon I've been working on since May of this year. I mentioned the idea for it back in April in this post. I'm still working on it in bits and spurts. This is one of the genius characters from the toon. I wanted the Astrophysicist character to look as little as possible like the mental prototype most people probably have for what astrophysicists look like. As I was drawing, I was having some trouble with the legs, so I decided to have him sat in a floating chair, like he's a bit too big (or lazy, which is perhaps more likely) to support his own weight. And trust me, this isn't even 1/100 of what I've done on this thing so far. But I'm plodding along, and though I don't think I'll have this done before the year is out, the end isn't too terribly far away.

I got a rope right here

It's somewhat of a surprise to me, but there's a new television show that I find myself quite interested in. Boondocks, based on the comic strip by Aaron McGruder. I can't say I've read the comic strip that much, but I think I may start. I've not had much interaction with African-Americans in my life so far, so a lot of the issues facing them (as a group or individually) are foreign to me. But the show (and, I'm sure, the strip) tackles issues head-on without any degree of beating around the bush. The problem is, it's often hard to see exactly what position Boondocks takes on certain issues. I mean, sometimes it's obvious, through the absurdity of some characters' statements, which points of view McGruder is making fun of. But overall the show, it seems to me, has a certain level of ambiguity. Which, oddly, is what draws me to it.
I'm at a point in my life where many of the answers I've trusted in for so long no longer fully fit. It seems now that re-defining issues, asking the important questions, and having a healthy level of skepticism (for both sides, sometimes), provides more depth and meaning than taking a quick, dogmatic answer that works, or fits in with the way I want things to be. Maybe I'm missing what McGruder is trying to achieve, but I see this somewhat mirrored in Boondocks. The show makes me laugh, makes me think, and makes me uncomfortable. I couldn't ask for too much more.

Kyle Lake, 1972-2005

One of my heroes died last Sunday.

I just found out about it today from one of my friends out that way. Kyle Lake was pastor of the University Baptist Church out in Waco, Texas. He was accidentally electrocuted while preparing to baptize someone during a church service, and soon passed away.

Kyle Lake was the author of two books, Understanding God's Will: How to Hack the Equation Without Formulas and (Re)Understanding Prayer: A Fresh Approach to Conversation with God. Not a single news article that reported his death (Christian-based publications notwithstanding) mentioned either of these books, which is a shame. I read the first earlier this year, and I'm currently reading the second. Kyle Lake is the first writer I've ever read who has been able to speak to who I am. Though I never met the man, I felt a kinship with him as I read his words. The man thought. For so long, I encountered church leaders and writers who demanded only acceptance of, and adherence to, explanations for all the questions we typically have regarding this or that pertaining to religion. Many times, my experience and learning seemed to have outgrown the answers I was being told I had to agree with, and they no longer satisfied the questions I had. This fact even gave me more questions: was I thinking too much, as I was so often told? Was I over-analyzing things? Was I unwilling to accept the truth? If I couldn't accept all that I was being told about my religion, did that place me outside of it, and consequently away from God? I could not become the wholly-confident, zealous Christian that seemed to be the ideal because I knew that I would not be true to myself.

Kyle Lake struck a chord in me by asking the same questions, by approaching things the same way I did. I received much needed affirmation by reading his work. It was like having someone come along and unlock the chains binding me. It was okay that I asked questions, that I thought past what I was told. He helped me reconceptualize a little of how I viewed God, and this re-framing lifted a lot of the feelings of failure that I had built up in the traditional church setting. For one thing, I no longer had to worry so much about questions like "What career does God want me to pursue?" Because Lake helped me to see that God's a lot more concerned with how I live and who I am. God may not tell me "Marry her" or "Say this" or "Take this job and not that one", but if I strive to be a learner of Christ, I will try to make careful, mature decisions about who to date, what to say, and where to work. That's not to say I've achieved being a learner of Christ; I still struggle. But it's a struggle that, if I take it on, I know will bring success and life and happiness and new opportunities for growth. It's a struggle I would take any day over trying (and failing) to be someone I'm not because someone else has dictated my ideals and goals to me.

I imagine that Kyle Lake was a wonderful man. He reached me and spoke to my inmost being. If he could achieve something like that, I have no doubt that he was a wonderful husband, father, pastor, and friend. And if I feel loss over his passing, it hurts me to think of what those who really knew him must be experiencing. I'm sad to know that he died, just as I would be for any person. But it goes deeper, I think, because I realize now that I'll never get to meet him in this world, to shake his hand. To say "Thank you."

Another recent work

Most libraries offer a service called Interlibrary Loan, which involves the sharing of resources (books, articles, audio/visual materials, etc.) between libraries for patron use. Many ILL departments are courteous enough to include Thank-you notes when returning items. I was inspired last week to create this for the ILL department at the library where I work (I used to work for the department myself). I got the image from this website; the advertisement was originally for Pliofilm, which in this case was being used for squeezable margarine packets. I cannot at the moment locate the site where I found the fonts. The top font is called Muriel, and the bottom one is Fette Fraktur. I think they go well with the 1950s artwork. I used Macromedia Flash to erase the margarine packet and put in a book (All in a Day's Riding by Will James). A grand total of six have been printed so far; I signed and dated one and submitted it to our library's Archives department.

Mysteries of the Universe, Part One

Of the many questions I have about life, the universe, and everything, there's one that has plagued me since the days of my youth:

Why do the Wrigley's gum Plen-T-Paks have 17 sticks? Who settled on the number 17? It's not a good, round number. It's not a multiple of the number of sticks in smaller packs. It's not even a popular number. In fact, the only opinion I've ever heard about the number 17 was from The Archies, who claimed that it wasn't young. It makes no sense. Wrigley's Plen-T-Paks stand firm under my cognitive pressure, defying every piece of logic I throw at them. In fact, I would go so far as to say that Wrigley's choice of 17 sticks of gum defies all logic. The Plen-T-Paks are entropic anomalies, living (so to speak) contradictions, a threat to order and peace everywhere. Let us now rise up and...eh, forget it. It's still good gum. Plen-T-Paks can stay...

...for now.

Insert funny post title or obscure reference here

I just found a quote I really like:

"If two people were exactly alike, one of them wouldn't be necessary."

I found it at this page while trying to find the meaning of the word "dem" (as in "A dem fine woman", a line from The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis). For the curious out there, yes, it's a British-type slang form for a word I'm sure you've already guessed.

My most recent work

This is a "team" logo for my library's circulation workers (whom I supervise). A couple of them decided they wanted team shirts with their nicknames on them, so I designed a logo. It's not the best I could have theoretically done, and truthfully I'm not fully pleased with it, but I don't really want to work on it anymore right now. I'll see what everyone else thinks. By the way, the number on my shirt is going to just be the symbol for Pi. Shoot, it was either that, 6 and 7/8, or the square root of -1. Pi is probably the most recognizable joke. Now I just need a nickname.