Thursday, May 21, 2015

Thoughts on the Library and Into the Wild

It is 1:08 am on Wednesday night and I'm still not asleep.

Nor am I cramming for finals or writing papers.

I love summer.

So far, summer has been rainy, quiet. I've read, swam, listened to Father John Misty and Tame Impala. I bought overalls and got in a wreck (but I'm fine and the other person is fine and the car will be fine). I've looked for jobs and eaten chocolate and had a picnic and stayed up late.

I worked at the library for four hours today (well. volunteered). I like working there. I think I would rather work at the library than a bookstore, unless it's a bookstore like Eighth Day Books or some other local/small bookstore. Chain bookstores just don't have the same... vibe. I mean, I love them. I take full advantage of Barnes and Noble. They have new books sooner than the library, their vinyl collection grows by the day, and obviously Starbucks is a perk.

But the library has a different aura to it. It's more personable. Maybe I only see it at the library because I work there, but the library is always bustling. Kids are looking for school books, adults are using the internet, teens are writing papers. It's so relaxed, but also always moving, always changing.

One of my favorite things ever is seeing what people read. It's fun seeing what books people put on hold and trying to figure out their personality. Today someone got an alt-J CD and We Were Liars (by E. Lockhart. AMAZING book) and I totally wanted to be friends with them. (Actually, that person came and picked them up and it was my small group leader from sophomore year. How crazy is that?)

Sometimes people ask me where books are or kids ask for recommendations, and it's pretty much the best thing ever. People asking you, genuinely asking you, about stuff you're passionate about is really cool. And sometimes there's really good parents who bring their kids to the library and play with them in the Children's Area and have imaginary tea parties. One time a girl and her little brother came and did homework and ate McFlurrys. It was really cute. Today a kid asked where the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane was, and I got all excited because I totally read that book in like fourth or fifth grade. He also got the first Warriors book (you know, the one about the cats). There's one old lady who has come a couple times, and she always ends up talking to the librarians for a really long time. Plus there's usually cookies in the workroom, and I always leave with two or three or ten books, so... yeah. I like it. It's fun being somewhere every week that I love, with people I really like. I'm the youngest one on Wednesdays, and I get the feeling that teen volunteers during the school year are a rarity. It's an honor, really.


State swimming is Friday and Saturday in Topeka. I'm an alternate, which is fine by me because a) there's little chance that I'll swim, and therefore no stress, b) I still get to go and hang out and cheer for my team, and c) my name is on the state shirt.

I'm very proud about that one, to be honest.

I'm currently reading Into The Wild, by Jon Krakauer. It is exceedingly fascinating and you should definitely read it. It's abut Chris McCandless, who trekked across the U.S. (and some of Mexico) for about two years before ending up in Alaska, where he died.

I really do admire Chris. He had guts, and there's no denying he was smart. He was an idealist of the highest order, and he lived what he believed. But gooosh I don't understand why he didn't pack more supplies, why he didn't wait until it was warmer, why he let himself starve. Lots of whys.

I'm only halfway through the book, so maybe it gets explained, but somehow I doubt it.

I get what drove him. I've felt it, that stirring, that urge to pack up and vanish one day. Were Margo Roth Spiegelman a real person, she would looove Chris McCandless. There are so many connections between the two.

And Chris was scared of people, of liking people, of connections and getting hurt. So I get that.

But... who just runs off to Alaska with out thinking through what you'll need? Without realizing "Wow, it's really snowy. I will need way more food." Over and over in the book, Chris proves he isn't stupid.

So why then? Why does he have a lapse in judgement when it is most crucial?

Also, why the third person journal entries? Actually, that is probably the weirdest part. That is what makes me question his sanity. Maybe he just liked third person, but it feels... off. Uncanny. Worrisome.

Ah well. Hopefully some answers will come through by the end of the book. But I doubt it. It wouldn't be nonfiction if everything was cleared up. It has to stay a mystery, I really do like this book, and I kind of want to hitchhike across America now.

Peace out.