Debt In Deep

A few weeks ago, I was an extra in a film being done by a friend. The idea was that I was one of several students in a college class, and so I gathered a few items to put in my backpack that would suggest that. I had pens, paper, books and such. One of the books was Wuthering Heights, which I was reading at the time. I loaned it to one of the other extras, who needed some kind of prop herself. I neglected to get it back from here, and since I couldn't bear to miss any reading time, I got another copy of the book from the library to replace the copy I'd owned.

The original copy was returned to me, and I resolved to return the library book at the earliest opportunity. As it wasn't necessary for a couple weeks more, there was no urgency. By the time two weeks had come around, I somehow forgot in spite of receiving a reminder that it was due. It would have been so easy to at least renew it on the computer, and yet I didn't. I hung on to the book and it incurred a late fee.

A Word To Regret

The library is nearly as fruitful a well of material on which to draw on for this blog as the buses and trains of this city. Mostly the incidents that happen in the library are either pleasant or harmless, but they certainly aren't always in the vein of a snack vendor getting shooed outside. They are something rather unpleasant, and the other day there was something which I found to be rather unsettling. I'm not sure what happened.

I was on the way to watch movies with some friends. On the way, I had to drop off dvds at the library. I resolved to go inside and see if there was anything I'd like to check out this time around, and sure enough I located a movie. While I was looking, I noticed a rather attractive woman also scanning the shelves. I didn't let my gaze linger. I didn't have the time in any case, but who wants to come off like a creep?

Far Afield

I am a devoted fan of the local library, although my tangible displays of it go no further than visiting often and occasionally patronizing book sales. I have really taken to the Los Angeles Public Library system, making the acquaintance of the local branch in every neighborhood I've called home so far. With exceptions I've stuck to the local one, since volumes can be summoned from far away to any place you like.

I was delighted when I moved to my present accommodations that the library was again within very reasonable walking distance, as it has been in the past. Better, it belonged to the "regional" class of branches, which is meant to be open for longer hours and have more resources. That's less true than it used to be, but it isn't without meaning even now. This library is awfully nice as a building, but it doesn't have all that I would like inside its walls.

Throwing The Book At 'Em

I was walking up to the library to return a couple of movies and pick out a couple more. What did I see except several police officers advancing on the building? I looked at my watch and swore. There were perhaps fifteen minutes left before the place was due to close, and all I could think of was that if the police were necessary, then something must be going on inside that was going to eat up a lot of that time and impede my efforts to transact my business.

As it turned out, the two patrol cars and four officers had little impact on things. I gather that whatever it was that brought them there, the person responsible was no longer present. I assumed that the staff would be rather agitated, as I have found to be the case in the past, but this time it was not so. It was just another day, all appearances to the contrary. There was a woman and what I will assume was her daughter ahead of me, and I don't know that they were convinced of that.

Get It In Writing

You see strange things and encounter strange people if you are anywhere often enough or long enough. It should, therefore, be no shock that I have as odd of experiences as I do at the library. I am only there for some twenty or thirty minutes every three days, but still manage to get the full impression of all the weird goings-on at my local branch. The difference may be that when I was there for a full two hours a day for want of a computer at home, I had to suffer through more than enough exposure.

In any event, there was this recent incident. I was perusing the DVDs, as I am most of the time that I am there. Every few weeks, I am selecting a new book, but not this time. A woman softly asked for my pardon. I assumed that I was in her way, and courteously stepped aside to let her get at what she wanted. This is what I would want others to do for me, though they don't always. She asked for my pardon again, though.

An Epic Run Of Fun

When I have the discipline, I try to shy away from listening to my music while I'm out and about. I reason that I didn't leave the house so that I could continue to isolate myself with the basic trappings of my own home. I presumably wanted to experience what the rest of the world has to offer, or I'd be a shut-in. Now, on a longer trip, I'll perhaps be more willing to listen to my music, although there is always a book I'd like to be reading.

The point is, though, that I want people to see that I'm open to interaction with them- that I'm not preemptively rejecting them. Sometimes that's a decision that I regret or at least question after the fact. The other day, I had a string of rather interesting encounters that might never have been if I had show my commitment to my tunes. There was the pretty girl coming into my building as I was leaving and the couple of words we exchanged, but that was nothing.

In Good Standing

Some time ago I believe I outlined my assessments of the librarians at my local branch. To summarize briefly, there's one very friendly one, one basically friendly one, cordial but incommunicative on, one  rather knowledgeable one who is not such a people person and one surly one. Those are the ones of whom I can speak with confidence. It's that last one that moves me to write today, and I do wish there were no cause to do so.

I don't think she likes me too much, or at least the possibility of that is there. I have always seen her to be civil at best. There's invariably a quality of curtness to her which has made me see her as someone who is there because it's a job and not a calling. I can guess why she'd be sour, considering what someone in her position must make. You have to get some of your compensation in the fulfillment of your life's mission, because cash probably doesn't quite cover it alone.

The Lady And Her Why

I have conflicting feelings about the very beautiful. I find them as attractive as anyone- the women at least (though I recognize the handsomeness of the men in an objective way). Not considering myself to be among the beautiful though, I harbor some negative feelings. Among them is the hard to shake attitude that the beautiful perhaps do not seek out knowledge with the same vigor as those who actually require it to get by in life.

So it was that I was a bubbling cauldron of emotions while waiting in line behind a rather attractive, statuesque young woman at the library. I was, as I am every three or so days, checking out some movies. You may trust that it was a good balance of fun and 'important' films. I wondered about the lady's purpose, as I did not notice what she might be checking out. As I always am in such cases, I was surprised just to see someone of her beauty within the library's walls.

Interloper

I have lately gotten into the habit of reading newspapers and periodicals at the library when I go to checkout and return DVDs. This being the case, I often spend as much time there in a day as I did in my early days here. At that time, I had no computer at home, let alone internet access, and so had no choice but to use the library's computers. The maximum time one had was two hours a day, and in that time I got to know the characters at the library near my home.

There were vagrants and near-vagrants, kids and adults, and food vendors trying to make a buck before being ejected. None of them could I really relate to. Now I am getting to know the characters at this branch. As yet there are only one or two I know by sight, word or deed. There was the other day a rather interesting women who was rather effective in thwarting my efforts to read the latest issue of the New Yorker. Of all the intolerable nuisances that lurk there, she may be the hardest to dislike.

The Right Kinds

Yesterday I wrote about a bother at the library. Well, I'm not done with that. When you go someplace at least once for an hour or two every three days, you have more to say about it than can be conveyed in a mere four paragraphs, or indeed in a small multiple of four. I have yet to fully plumb the depths for all that I have written about the library, but let us see if today's rumination finally taps that very deep well once and for all.

In my memories, the librarian is a very particular type of woman. It is a she, and she is of perhaps three types. There is the kindly librarian who nurtures your love of reading. I fondly remember the one we had in the grade school library. I spent as much time in there as I believe I could have been permitted, and her storytime performances were really something. When she was on some kind of sabbatical, it was a pinprick of sorrow every time I saw that the lady there was someone else.

Where I Stand

As I have made more clear than anyone, myself included, could have have wanted, I go to the library a good bit. That being the case, I think it's fair to say that I have a pretty good handle on proper etiquette. Most people there don't, regardless of how much time they spend there. Maybe I'm different because I have been going to the library since they were more strict, or maybe not. What's clear is that I manage to be quiet there, when most people aren't and when I am as loud as a peacock everywhere else. That's not the only thing that people could stand to learn from me though.

You see, I know how to stand in front of a shelf so that I'm not in the way. Most people can't do that or don't. With the books it's not an issue. It's not that fewer people read these days (because probably more do), but they have been outpaced by those who do other things. The point is that it's rare for multiple people to home in on a single section of books, but they will always do that with the DVDs, and some courtesy would help a lot if anyone learned it.

Moving On

Wherever you live, there are reasons why you may not be able to go to a particular place where you mean to run an errand. There might be traffic, or you may find they don't have what you need. The place may even be moved away or closed, and this may come as a surprise to you if you don't have reason to go there often. In LA there is an additional reason for being unable to patronize a place, and it does not surprise anyone here. I mean of course the sudden specter of filming underway.

Usually you do get notice. Sometimes the front of my own apartment building bears notices for filming some brief time in the future. Sometimes you don't get notice, as I did not when I went to the library the other day. It is a picturesque one, and probably quite appealing to the filmmaker. In this case, the library served as a location in what I gather to be a spec commercial. This is when someone makes a commercial out of their own pocket for a company that may certainly reject it and leave them holding the bag. I don't much see the sense in it, but if people are doing it then it must work.

The Cranky Stroke Of Justice

My library seems to be an eventful one. I write of it often, but then I am there often. I spend a half hour there at least every three days, and this is a marked drop-off from my early days in LA when I had no computer and no internet. I spent two hours there every day, and when that's the case you see some things. You also become intimately familiar with the characters, the relationships and the common conflicts.

Another rather interesting (to me) drama played out within earshot at my current local branch the other day, but not under my direct gaze, because watching would have meant being involved. Two young men entered and came to the dvd section where I was. I did not notice them at first, really. To me they were just more bodies clogging the small area around the shelves, blocking me from quickly perusing them and locating movies I wanted.

Again

Something that I believe I have addressed in some fashion is the habit I have of patronizing the local lending library's selection of DVDs. It reminds me of an incident from some years ago in Florida. I had never before visiting the library in Gainesville seen a place with such a robust selection of VHS tapes. I remember a man chiding a woman for selecting several just because they were free. That happens with me as well.

I'm in a routine now of having out three at any given time, and while I do a pretty good job of watching as many as I can, many of them go wanting since I check them out with no regard for what time I will actually have to watch them. It's sort of like I'm maintaining a rolling library of three discs just in case the opportunity will arise to watch them on a free night or even during the day. As I said, I do manage to watch a good number of them, but not all.

Dewey Decibel

Upon consulting the archives, I find that I have written posts which are predominantly concerned with the public library on six occasions, some of those occurring during the early days of this blog when I was somewhat less serious and refined in my method (but no more or less successful in drawing readers). It surprised me that I had not commented on the silence (or lack thereof) that may be found within the walls of that institution.

I was raised to be as quiet as a dormouse (whatever that may be) while in the library. Librarians were always very imposing and intimidating figures, and they always wanted you to be quiet and still. They got their way when I was a boy, and I must concede as a grown man that they had the right idea. I then would have wanted some leeway where both were concerned, but I am all turned around on the subject now. A graveyard would be too noisy for me if I were reading, studying or selecting materials.

Smoked Out

As many hours as I have spent in libraries, I have been witness to some remarkable things. You see the long term patterns that are hidden to he who flies in and out to pick something up quickly, but you also are by the law of averages present to see a lot of things that are as unusual there as anywhere, but eventually are going to happen given enough time. That's what it was for me this time around- if you go to the library enough, you'll inevitably be shooed outside when the fire alarm goes off.

If someone were reading Fahrenheit 451 or something of the like, I imagine the experience was all the more potent for them. As it was, it was sufficiently memorably for me. I detected nothing until the alarm went off, at which time I briefly contemplated trying to check out as I saw someone else do. Though the building seemed not to be in obvious peril of being engulfed by flames, I felt it was more important to ensure that I live to read another day.

Old Library, New Library

I've always found it rather interesting to compare and contrast libraries. I guess I spend more time in them than others, sparking that habit. Where I grew up, we were roughly equal distances from libraries belonging to two systems: there was the Phoenix Library, and there was the Scottsdale Library. Little things made them different from each other. It started with the cards. Phoenix had a plain vermillion-like red one which about matched the license plates in use at the time. Scottsdale's was both more colorful and less memorable. Apart from that, the physical edifices just had different feels to them. The functional differences were trivial by comparison. The computers became the biggest of those differences, and they were about the same.

Where I am now, there are several different systems, three of which I have received cards for. One of those, Santa Monica, has now expired without my having made a second trip succeeding the one I took to get the card. I obviously therefore can made no credible judgments on that one. The other two are the Los Angeles Library and now the Glendale Library. I'm quite grateful for the presence of the latter, which makes up for some of the shortcomings creating by merciless rounds of budget cuts to the former. Glendale's branches remain open on Sundays and Mondays, which is a blessing. Also very nice are their pretty designs for cards. That's correct- there are multiple designs, and the patron has a choice. Also rather neat is the apparent availability of automated checkout machines, which they had at the systems in Arizona when I was a kid, but which remains unavailable in Los Angeles. That about sums up the advantages held by Glendale.

I, Freedom

Around St. Patrick's Day, I misplaced a library book and never recovered it. Naturally, I exhausted every possible search area and delayed just as long as I could in hopes that it would turn up in my home or that of a friend. I even had some notion that a Good Samaritan would come upon it in the public place where I must have left it and just turn it in. After all, what would your typical thief on the street want with an old hardcover edition of "The Return Of Sherlock Holmes"? Surely they could not enjoy it for themselves or find a buyer. That hope died along with the rest. Finally I broke down and paid the outrageous cost that the library determined would cover the value of the book and the expenses that replacing it would entail.

Now, I am not so angry as I might be were it some other entity and not the library. To get angry at the library would be unfathomable, like getting angry enough at my mother for bumping into me that I would disown her. Now more than ever, I love the library so dearly that it's difficult to imagine an offense which might turn me against it. That's especially true given the present dire budgetary circumstances. In a way, I feel grateful for the opportunity to serve my library by being gouged on the value of a lost book. Like Liam Neeson's Oskar Schindler, I only wish I could do more.

The Film Lover's Diet

I have for a long time consumed media to a prodigious degree. It began with books, and that continues, but my intake matured with the addition of movies. For years, I made due with a movie or two once in a while when the family made a trip to the video store. I still have memories of visiting the one at the mall near our house of the time. I would bound in with bare feet, taking in the confines with wonderment. At that time, the stores carried VHS and Betamax. Once a houseguest mixed them up, and we were left wanting for an evening. A video store in the neighborhood we moved to later became something of a second home, only to close in advance of those which fell victim to one of the current sources of my fix. Netflix I believe I have spoke of either in passing or at length. Either way, it needs no further discussion.

What I'm so fond of these days is something which I've had tastes of all too fleetingly in the past: the beloved and precious public library. In my youth, it carried only books, periodicals and cassette tapes. CDs came in after a fashion. Somewhere around that time, VHS tapes also entered into common circulation. I did partake of them when the opportunity would arise from time to time, but was regretful that it should do so most seldom. That changed in concert with my transition from a fairly nascent charter school to one which was so early in gestation that it had no home. In between meeting in a conference room at one parent's office park and acquiring a permanent home in a humble strip mall, we met in a series of library meeting rooms.

The Library.

Previously I mentioned going to the library. The public library is, in my opinion, possibly the best thing that public dollars are spent on. It occurred to me after not really writing anything for several days that I had a bit more to say about the matter. I've been in library branches belonging to a few different systems. I have also been a consistent user of the libraries in schools I attended. I'll start with the school libraries. Here's a review of libraries I've used.

Firstly, I remember the library in my first school at Squaw Peak Elementary (I don't know whether they changed the name of the school when they changed the name of the mountain. It would be sad to think they did, all politics aside). It was a simple room with books lining two walls, a corner for public reading, an administrative space, a computer area. I don't think that last area was there when I started kindergarten, just because computers were not so integrated at the time.