Monday, September 28, 2009

surviving the martyrs

It’s just another Jew.

    Oh God, oh God, oh God—why, why, why?

Better to let them have this one than to lose control of the nation.

    Why him, why . . .
            . . . my lover. . .
        . . . my father . . .
                    . . . my brother . . .
    . . . my hero . . .
            . . . my son . . .
    . . . why, God?

Let them think they’ve regained some control.

    Speak for me!

It was just a Jew.

    Defend my cause!

No one even knows his family name.

    Protectors of Israel—a lie!  Carry out the vengeance due to me!

It was quick.

I heard his screams.
            I heard his bones crunching, snapping, shattering.
        I heard the stones thunk against his flesh.
I saw the blood spurt up from his wounds.
        I saw the wild agony flashing in his eyes as he fell.
            I saw the glee on the faces of his murderers.
I felt the raw scream rise in my own throat.
        I felt the slap of a Pharisee, shoving me back from rushing in to save him.
    I felt the dust coating my tongue and throat as I sobbed my horror to the skies.
                I was there.
    I saw him, meek.
        I heard him, forgiving.
            I felt his spirit, shuddering, rise from his body
                        though they would not let me cradle him.
                    I watched him die
                                    slowly
                            agonizingly
                                     alone.

 No one cares.

   My life is empty.
            Who will care for me, protect me?
        Who will teach me?
    I want nothing else but to die, as he did—die and be with him.
                I am alone.
            I am angry.
        I am hurt.
            Who will hear me when I cry?

Stepping in will only stir up the embers of revolt.

    Why did no one stop it?  I saw them, lounging at the gates.  I heard them, shouting and mocking and goading and heckling and laughing.  I ran, begging, to them, needing help, but they shoved me back and shouted words I didn't know.
    I know they saw.  I know they heard.  I know they knew.  Why did they not stop it?

It was just another Jew.

    Is there a protector left for me, now that he is gone?
        I have been failed by all that was supposed to protect me—
                my priests
                    my teachers
            my government.
                    They all ignored my pleas.
            Does anyone hear me?
                Does anyone cry with me?
                    Does anyone care?

I do.
I am the LORD your God.
I hear your cries.  I know your pain.  I share your tears.
And I am here.
I am
I am here,
cradling you in My everlasting arms.
I am here.
Trust Me.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Love, in library terms

A List of Useful Hints for Everyone Interested in Showing Affection to Library Workers

1. Speak in an appropriately low tone of voice.  Not only will they appreciate that you respect the library quiet rules and do not need to be reminded of this simplest of concepts, low voices convey intimacy and tenderness.
2. Try to look things up by yourself.  This way they will know that you are an independent thinker, an independent worker, and not one of those irritating dimwits who says, "Well, I thought it'd be easier if I just asked you to find it for me" (real quote from a real student).  It also demonstrates thoughtfulness and a respect that their time is valuable and probably has better uses than doing something that you can/should do for yourself. *NOTE* Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it, but try to utilize the online catalog, databases, etc., before seeking help.  This leads quite nicely to our next point, which is . . .
3. If you don't know what on earth you're doing, ask a library worker to help you. (They can tell anyway; you might as well admit it.)  Often,  library workers are noted by their supervisors for how frequently and skillfully they assist patrons.  However, since patrons often a) refuse to use the library, b) refuse to ask for help but instead ask for service (see #2, above), or c) insist on being independent but useless, it makes it difficult for library workers to help people.  In addition, assisting a patron often demands the library worker coming and standing very close to them while showing them how to use whatever search program or whatnot on the computer.  Just saying.
4. Hide in the stacks and come strike up a conversation while they're reshelving books.  This lets them know a) you notice them enough to see what areas they've been working in that day, b) you like their company enough to make a little extra effort to spend time with them, c) you comprehend the utter boredom and monotony and loneliness that is reshelving, and d) you enjoy hanging out among shelves of books.  These are all very good things.  *NOTE*  Don't do this too often or for long periods of time, or they'll start to be nervous about spending time socializing while they're on the clock.  And try to avoid being a stalker ("I've actually been tracking your every move for the last two and a half hours." [not a real quote, thank groodness])
5. Always try to find the exact call numbers of the books you want.  "I'd like to get the book for Professor ---'s class . . the one that's on reserve."  (real quote from a real student)  First off, that sentence doesn't specify the book title or anything else.  Maybe there are fourteen books on reserve for that class.  Secondly, most professors utilize the book-reserve option.  The library worker has probably (read: most definitely) not memorized what books are for what professor and for what class of that professor.  (See #2 above).
6. Do not eat in the library.  This not only makes the library worker's job easier in that they don't have to clean up your food mess, but it lets them know you care about respecting rules and respecting books (double points!).  Plus, you're probably way more attractive when you don't have cookie crumbs in the corners of your mouth.
7. Try to avoid using the library for the last half-hour before closing. If you're already in the library at that point, it's okay to stay.  However, a patron staggering into the library, bearing a huge backpack and lugging armloads of books, is the most disheartening sight a groggy library worker (who may be finishing a nine-hour shift, for all you know) could see.  Don't do it, just like you don't go to Subway fifteen before they close. (Oh, wait, I'm the only one who really cares about that . . .)  If it's absolutely imperative that you use the library at exactly 10:30 PM at least have the common decency to apologize.  Don't try to slink in like they can't see you if you don't make eye contact; it just makes matters worse.
8. Look them in the eyes.  Smile.  Thank them.  Working at a library doesn't make a person a cyborg.  Library work is repetitive, it is methodical, and it does require a sort of type-A personality.  But that doesn't mean it's any less irritating-- or hurtful-- to be addressed or treated like a piece of the furniture.  Plus most library workers are really fun.  Or really attractive at least.
9. Be playful and engaging.  A lot of people who come into libraries are really focused scholars who would rather read encyclopedias than run around outside or have friends or sleep or eat.  Or breathe.  There's nothing wrong with that, but sometimes library workers wish someone would just ask them a silly personal question or start up a hilariously rolicking conversation.  It's okay to start serious, scholarly conversations with library workers, but remember that working in a library doesn't limit a person's interests to books and ancient writers.  It does probably point to a rather unusual love of books (or libraries), so introducing subjects of that kind is perfectly acceptable and makes you look smart.  Or at very least, it shows them you're willing and eager to learn about subjects near and dear to their hearts.
10. For the love of all things holy, do NOT reshelve your own books.  If you don't understand this without any explanation, you are clearly unfit material to be trying to even befriend a library worker.  Please leave.