To-do list

‘What the hell am I doing?’ She asks herself at least once every hour,

As she sits in a cold room, no window, no atmosphere.

‘To zone out or not to zone out?’ That’s not really a question,

Because to zone out will always be the better suggestion.

Doodling. Scribbling. Yawn. Sigh. Cough. Yawn. Cough.

Slurps water from her glass. No coffee for her. Jesus, she’s feeling rough.

“Yes, sir. No, sir. I’ll see what I can do”.

But, of course her advice isn’t suffice,

“It’s a man I want to speak to!”

Male colleague provides the same information…

‘What the hell am I doing in this gender clarification?’

Doodling. Scribbling. Yawning. Staring.

Listening to strange conversations that she wants to be sharing.

But back to focus. Click. Answer. Type.

As she continues ticking off the duties of day to day life.

On Loving Libraries

Most of you may know that I’m not a super serious person. My poetry and blogs tend to be of a non-super serious nature. But, now, here is a chance for me to show my super serious side. I’ve said super serious far too many times that it now sounds like a comic book hero… And don’t even begin to tell me that you wouldn’t want to read such a comic book. I mean, come on, who wouldn’t want to know about The Adventures of Super Serious? A 20-something brunette who is the first point of contact for those who need to discuss such serious matters as long-term illnesses, complicated relationships, and bacon. For as we all know, there’s nothing more serious than bacon.

Well, if you ever DID want to read this kind of comic book, you could always use your library services to hunt it down. Your library. YOUR library. It’s yours.
I would like to share my story of why the library is important to me.

One day I was at work and feeling slightly stressed. I was moody. I was quiet. A display at Leamington Library was celebrating LGBT History Month, and I fancied a quick gander at some of the new titles. I picked up a graphic novel called, ‘On Loving Women’ by Diane Obomsawin. It had unique illustrations and I thought it was perfect for me to read during my lunch break. I marched up to the staff room with music blaring from my headphones (the displeasing metallic sound probably irritating fellow colleagues who were also trying to enjoy their lunch in that room. I apologise for that, guys!). Anyway, I parked my derrière upon a chair and started to read. Diane Obomsawin shares her friends’ and lovers’ personal accounts about first love and sexual identity. It was a new book and I was intrigued to find out more. Little did I know that the book was to have such an influence in my life.

As I was reading Catherine’s story, I realised that I could relate to her so much. I thought I was reading about my own life and the inner struggles I faced when I was 15 years old. I had always thought that I was weird and alone to experience those things but finally, after 10 years, I was reading about someone who I could relate to. Once I finished reading that story, I no longer felt alone. I felt happier. I felt comfortable. I am pleased to say that I was much more cheery after my lunch break and had a productive afternoon at work.

Within a few months I got a tattoo on my wrist of Obomsawin’s illustration of Catherine. The book had arrived in my life at the perfect time. When I look at that tattoo or people ask me about it, I can tell the story behind it and feel proud in doing so. I am eternally grateful to share an extremely identical story with one of Obomsawin’s friends. I am eternally grateful to the library and especially to the wonderful Emily Davis of Leamington for ordering the book and other LGBT titles. (Emily Davis of Leamington…I’ve made her sound very Royal, haven’t I?)

Without the library, I would have never discovered such a poignant and incredible book. A book, which for me, is vital.

That is why libraries are so important for me and why I use them.