I've been sitting here at work since 5:00. It is now 8:22, and I've read half of the book I started today, got caught up on the Office, and had a few short phone conversations. I've listened to the Yankee, who works at the Reference Desk, blab on and on with his irritating voice accompanied by a constant murmur of oriental languages invading my thoughts. I have tutored no one. I am useless.
In Heart of Darkness, Conrad discusses all of these useless women in their useless jobs. That is me. Feckless. Knitting away with my black yarn. Knitting nothing in particular. It won't turn into a scarf to keep a loved one warm or a sweater for someone to hide away, pretending they like it. I'm just knitting. Knitting to keep my hands busy, so I don't feel as though I'm doing nothing. I must feel productive. The actual productivity is not so important.
I shared the gospel yesterday. It made me cry. I feel lost. And useless.
It's very easy to drown in self pity. Easier than drowning in water or even in blood.
It gives me a certain thrill to use punctuation incorrectly. Like I have the power of language, and I can use it any way I please.
The book I'm reading is called The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. I just love it. It's funny; it's sad. It reminds me of Jacob Black, only this kid is even more endearing. He is poor, impoverished really. He lives on a reservation, where he is forced to study with ancient books: the exact same books his mother used when she went to school there. He realizes he's special. He inconveniences himself in ways unimaginable to advance above what he was born into. When he moves to a white school, he makes this friend Gordy, a bookish nerd-type. He's staring at awe at the books in the library and says he gets a metaphorical boner. When I read the following lines, my heart beat a little faster because I know now that I'm not alone in this philosophy. Gordy says, "Yes, it's a small library. It's a tiny one. But if you read one of these books a day, it would still take you almost ten years to finish...The world, even the smallest parts of it, is filled with things you don't know."
Every book, every experience, every breath is a gift that brings a new perspective, a new realization.
Books hold all of the secrets. Why are they not valued more?
You didn't tell me that it reminded you of Jacob Black!! Of course I'll read it!
ReplyDeleteyou are not useless! i do that knitting thing sometimes...and the other day i was just sitting and winding embroidery thread around little cardboard things. not making anything or accomplishing anything really, but just having to be busy.
ReplyDeletebooks are wonderful