It’s been so long since I’ve actually written on my blog that I’m not even sure if I know how to do it anymore. Ok, that’s a lie. I do know how to do it, it’s just that I’ve been busy planting a garden, traveling to San Francisco to see my brother and family, keeping up with the progress of my friend who got her mother’s kidney and going to my grandmother’s funeral in Fayetteville, NC. Not Arkansas. And even though each of those events could be their own blog posts, I’m not going to go there. Not yet at least.
No, I thought that I would hop back in to the Dewlaps blogosphere by sharing with you my very personal experience last week, set over a period of two days, at my local public library.
I have a problem focusing. I’m not ADD or anything like that. It’s just that when I’m sitting at home, in front of my computer, I am easily sidetracked. Laundry, bills, phone calls, testing out sex toys for The Stir. It’s hard (ha ha) for me to write. And it ends up taking me three times as long as it should to complete something.
I love my local public library. It’s close to my house, the librarians are friendly, the wi-fi is free and there are plenty of big four top tables in a big sunny area marked for “Quiet Study”. The few times I’ve gone there with my computer, I’ve been focused and super-productive. So it was with that in mind that I made my way over there on Thursday. I got there a few minutes before the library opened and spent a few minutes reveling in the mix of people waiting: old people, moms with toddlers, Guatemalans. It just gives me so much happiness because the library is a class-less place. And no I don’t mean people there have no class though some did fart loudly a few weeks ago, it’s just that the library is a free society. Everybody is allowed to be there and use the facility and that’s just great.
I set myself up at a table, kind of spread my things out towards the seat next to me and started working. And it was going swimmingly for about an hour. Then a man sat across from me and it all went downhill. Because he wasn’t just any man. He was a smelly man wearing dirty clothes and looking kind of like Bill Murray does when he is drunk. But my momma raised me right so when he said hello, i said hello back. He kept getting up and retrieving big books of pictures of tropical rainforests and battle scenes. Incongruous I know. And bit by bit he started speaking to me. And I could tell by his intonations and the timber in his voice that he was mentally challenged. Especially when he told me that I looked like Barbra Stresiand. I wanted to ask you mean like in Yentl or that movie with Nick Nolte where she plays a psychitrist. But I didn’t. But this is the point that I started Twittering about (see feed here). After holding my breath for an extended period of time, I packed it in. It’s hard to concentrate when you’re not getting enough air flow. And I left. He said goodbye so did too.