I have been seduced into the glamourous lifestyle of a librarian. I fear this may be the career path I choose.
Look, it's not like I need a lot of money! And you know, it's cushy and stuff. Well, not really. But there's books! And children learning about the joy of reading! Plus, if you work in a library you have a monopoly on your product (or at least the most competitive prices), so you don't have to worry about serving customers well.
Yes, you say, but Phillip, you'd be working a government job. And you know those jobs make you sign a contract that says you're not trying to bring down the government, the establishment, the Man, the United Fruit Company, or Mom's apple pie.
And I say, yes, but my word can be compromised.
But you'd be an agent of the establishment! The Man! The United Fruit Company!
Look, I'd be subverting the enemy from the . . . what the hell is it with you and United Fruit?
Santa Marta. Colombia. 1928.
. . . I could be morally ambiguous. Some say that's sexy.
You can't bring off morally ambiguous sexy without a sleek black trenchcoat and good hair.
I have the hair! I can buy a trench!
And brooding eyes.
I have those too! I'm dark, and brooding, and mysterious, and, and, and . . . *pout*
Yes you are, lovey. *pats head*
In conclusion, librarians make the best secret agents. They are the guardians of knowledge, which is power. I shall be an Anarchist Librarian! Or better:
Phillip: Dark Lord of the Library
In other news, this weekend I carved pumpkins. I created the savage Pumkas people, a tribe of head-hunting cannibals dwelling on a remote South Pacific island.
This included a bunch of little pumpkins with X's for eyes stuck up on spikes.
And pumpkins with sharp sharp teeth taking bites of other pumpkins' brains and guts.
Pictures are on Facebook. As of Sunday morning, the neighbors have already complained. Success!
You know what? I like the finer things in life. I like classical music and opera and going to the theater. I like good wine, good port, caviar and tartar. I am utter and total snobbish Eurotrash. I know good formalwear, and I love to wear it whenever I have occasion to.
I'm realizing I was raised to be capable of moving in classy society just about anywhere. I discuss art and opera like an ennui-ed aristocrat and make polite banter in multiple languages.
Not sure how I feel about this. I'll get back to it later.
Half a bottle of very good port + very sharp knives + slippery pumpkin juice + tough to pierce pumpkin skins = oh jeez the ouch.
I try to live without regrets. That's a major thing about me: if I am afraid to make mistakes, I will not experience all I'd like to. The greatest experiences I have had would have come to naught if I'd allowed my fear to get the best of me. And I can get some good or profit out of anything, no matter how ill-advised it is or how disastrously badly it turns out.
That is why when I say I do regret something, it is fairly important. It means that I feel the negative consequences outweighed both all that I enjoyed about it AND all the learning I gained from the experience. I can count my regrets on my fingers (and no, I'm no polydactyl).
A regret before it is complete is a mistake. You see, I must have had good reason not to do this and yet went ahead with it anyway despite that. Basically, the consequences came--consequences which I foresaw--and were just as awful as I'd foreseen, but the value of the experience was far less than I thought it would be. Or perhaps I was dumb enough to hope I was wrong about how things would turn out.
Of all the people I've been involved with over the years, I've had two regrets. I won't share those, simply because I think it's rather cruel to say that's what I thought of my time with them.
I think I am coming to the point of making another such mistake. And I shall not. I shall at least learn from my past, this time.
I'm listening to Cake's cover of "Mrs Robinson". I'm building a deep love for Cake. Coo coo cachoo.
I should think I'd like to marry rich. That's right, I'm in college not for my B.A. but my M.R.