I don't like attention. I don't like being noticed. I like to do what I want and to be left alone while I do it.
So why do I envy those who get all the attention?
I work in a medium-to-large library system, not Hennepin County, MN, large, but pretty big, and sometimes I see that my colleagues are producing professional writing, book reviews, etc., under their own real names, and I wonder why I'm not doing that. Especially now, when I might need some extra ammo to argue to save my job if our library cuts some of our positions. "But I write for LJ," I could cry, and that might keep me in my desk while they toss that other guy who only donates blood and teaches adult learners to read.
I write as the.effing.librarian. What the fuck good is that? Yes, I'm a whiny bitch. That's just the way I was raised, having eight sisters and no brothers. And I don't enjoy writing reviews, I don't have the patience to teach anyone anything, and if I donate blood, I give away some of my irreplaceable midichlorians and lose my jedi powers.
But I think there's something wrong with all this avoidance. Hell, I'm an adult, and at some point I might need to become involved with someone intimately enough to produce other tiny someones. What? "Oh, God, No!" Yes, I heard that. Why does everyone always cry out, Oh, God, No when I mention that I might want to become a parent? And why does my mom shout it the loudest?
I just don't want any problems to come from being the.effing.librarian. It's like when the cops stop me and ask my name and I answer, IZE-COLE (ice cold). And they take my description and add my name to the long list of local gang members.
So I guess you could say the.effing.librarian is in a gang, ...is a gang. I hope our colors are purple and olive because those really bring out my cool winter skin tones.