So I’m kind of feeling really uninspired today and there’s this ball of emotion absence in my chest. I’m excited for an academic competition I’ll be attending tomorrow and Saturday and staying overnight, but othewise I’m pretty bored, aside from anxiety on a big test we’ve got.
I’m writing a short story I came up with yesterday after being inspired by Bagombo Snuff Box, Uncollected Short Fiction by Kurt Vonnegut. I LOVED all of his stories. They’re funny, thought-provoking, and often twist to a new direction at the end. I want to write like that.
In other news(read: rant) I was at the library today sitting next to my sister to help her format a project she was doing. There were a few other kids goofing around doing the same project as she was, stealing one another’s flash drives after being distracted from their computers. They were making sixth grade jokes which were actually kind of funny(“You’re my great grandmother, George”) in a sort of nonsensical way. Aside from the humor in it all, they were being rather rambunctious and out of control. This was the children’s section. This was nothing new.
Occasionally, a librarian sitting in front of her computer doing God knows what would call over saying, “Kids, you really have to quiet down.” Fair enough. They did have to quiet down.
I leaned forward in my chair to assist my sister, ever-studious and ever-helpful. In doing so, I began leaning forward in my chair with the back legs off the ground. About twenty seconds into my doing this, the librarian, who wasn’t more than four or five feet away, came over and told me to stop.
I didn’t quite understand her disciplinary system and I still don’t. Why would leaning in a chair translate to a wilder offense than running around and generally scattering the library with papers?
I have no idea whatsoever. Perhaps the librarian was told she wouldn’t be able to have children and somehow, by a miracle, gave birth to one. Maybe it was a little boy with blonde hair and one of those too-cute, teeth-all-over-the-place smiles and she loved him infinitely. Maybe he shared a love for books and before he closed his eyes each night she would read him Good Night Moon or Horton Hears a Who. Maybe the reason she chastised me was because this child she loved died because he leaned back in his chair too far and was concussed beyond repair.
I hope it’s not.