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Blatherskite

Foolish gibberish

  • AboutI am also known as CraftyMoni elsewhere on the web. I am a Children’s Librarian. I am a photographer. I am a knitter. I am a reader. I am a wannabe poet. I blog. Sometimes I complain. I like to swear. I have a really twisted sense of humor. I think I might be a Zen Buddhist (Still trying to decide). Not a fan of organized religion. I am very liberal and can be vocal about it at times. I’m a daydreamer. Sometimes sassy. I try to be compassionate. I think I’m pretty nice most of the time. You can delve into deeper waters by reading these posts. You can see my photography on my Flickr page. If you like any photos you see there or on this site and would like to buy a print let me know. I would be happy to sell one to you! I blather about library stuff on  Twitter. You will also find me on Google+ and Facebook. Enjoy your visit!  
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about

I am a Children’s Librarian living in the Portland, Oregon area. When I am not Children’s Librianing I like to play with cameras and film. I also like playing the ukulele, knitting, sketching, and hiking.
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  • Songs that make me cry

    August 9, 2017

    Since this is such an interesting subject, I think I will make it a series. When I happen to hear a song that makes me cry I’ll post it. Perhaps you can make sense of why (because sometimes I really haven’t a clue).

    Today a Facebook friend posted this video on his feed. I love this song, and the documentary, and so I clicked it. I got about half way through the song and I had to stop because I was full on crying and I didn’t want someone to walk in on me and ask why I was crying. Honestly, I have no idea why on earth this song is making me cry today but there is something about it that is hitting me right in the feels.

     

    I recently watched “Stop Making Sense” for the very first time and really loved it. I became interested in watching it because I’m totally addicted to the television series “Documentary Now!” and the spoof on this particular documentary (“Final Transmission” is the name of that episode) is fucking hilarious. I highly recommend the series of you like satire.

    When I posted about this a couple of weeks ago my buddy, Brendan, pointed me to a podcast he’d just listened to about this very subject. It is an episode of Malcolm Gladwell’s Revisionist History and the episode is called, “King Of Tears.” I recommend giving it a listen if this subject interests you.  “Specificity meets melancholy” is what makes a song sad, according to Gladwell. Interesting food for thought.

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  • My number was called

    August 8, 2017

    I received the letter for jury duty in early May, but had to defer it because of a major project at work. Apparently I wasn’t thinking straight when I only deferred it for three months because when I got the letter for early August I thought, “I can’t do this. I’m in the middle of the Summer Reading Program.” So I tried to defer it again. NOPE. Denied. I had to go. No more excuses.

    Maybe they wouldn’t call my number. I crossed my fingers when I called the night before. My number was 4. they called jurors 1-76. Doh!

    Thankfully my husband was home on Friday and could drive me all the way down to Oregon City, where our municipal offices are for the county I’m in. But  If I had to be there longer than Friday I was in trouble (Public transportation from my house to  there is terrible).

    When I arrived I waited with my fellow possible-jurors. We watched a couple of videos about how important it is to be in a jury and what to expect. An Eagles concert was turned on for us to watch (which was kind of bizarre).  It was my expectation that we wouldn’t get further than that room. Most of the people I know who have been called have left early because most cases end in a plea bargain before they get to trial. But no, we all ended up in voir dire, when we were randomly asked a round of awkward questions.  One of the questions was “How do you feel about having a glass of wine and driving.” I have to admit that I was shocked that most of the people in the room thought it was OK. The question came around to me and I said, “no, if you drink anything you don’t get behind the wheel at all.” Am I the only one that thinks this? I kind of feel like I am now.

    It was a drunk driving case, so I thought that surely they would never choose me to be on the jury with that answer. But guess what? They called my number. The only thought in my head as I was lining up to go into the courtroom was “fuuuck.”

    All of this happened before noon.

    When we got into court they wasted no time. Both lawyers stated their case, the one witness took the stand, was asked questions, and then we went to lunch. When we came back the lawyers did closing arguments and then it was on us to decide. It took us a few minutes to all decide the person was guilty, but we did spend some time talking about why. I really felt like it was important to make sure we talked about it and made sure we were making the right decision. I mean, we were all talking a day out to go there and do this. We should do it right. I feel confident we made the right decision.

    It was an interesting process and I learned a lot from it. I have to admit, I’ve been reluctant to serve on a jury. Maybe even a bit more than reluctant. It’s something I’ve never wanted to do. It always felt like this huge burden. But I’m glad I got to experience the process and it worked out perfectly for me since it was only one day.

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  • Lowbrow Con

    August 7, 2017

    Yesterday after running, the Mister and I went to the first annual Lowbrow Con in Milwaukie, Oregon. We got there really late in the day, about a half an hour before they closed the doors. They let us in free! Which was great because we had more money to give to the artists there. I bought a bunch of cools stickers, a screen print, and an awesome comic zine. It was great fun and I can’t wait to go again next year.

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  • Sunday runday

    Sunday runday

    August 6, 2017

    Somehow I messed up my training plan and realized I was nowhere near where I am supposed to be, milage-wise, by the time my half-marathon rolls around in September. My husband suggested I add 2 miles to each long run and that would add up to the right milage I’m supposed to be at. I found myself staring a 10.5 mile run in the face this morning. Ugh. But I did it. go me! I’m tired though.

    today’s power song was Billy Idol’s, “Dancing With Myself.”

    This is my "holy shit I just ran 10.5 miles" face.
    This is my “holy shit I just ran 10.5 miles” face.
    There was a dancing theme today
    There was a dancing theme today
    The streets know my name.
    The streets know my name.
    Today's obligatory forest shot.
    Today’s obligatory forest shot.

    Now that’s a  music video. zombies and everything. wow.

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  • Pure and uninhibited

    August 5, 2017

    36344655606_a4f8c1417b_bI finished “Her Husband” last weekend and dived into “The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath” this week. I have to say, I really wish that this was the first thing I’d read about or by Plath. About 25 years ago I read The Bell Jar which I loved, but very soon after I read a biography about her called, “Bitter Fame” written by someone who didn’t  seem to like her. It’s been a long time since I read it, but I remember putting the book down and thinking that Plath was just a crazy lunatic. Which is really sad, considering I’ve found myself battling depression over the years. I look at her now as someone I can relate to just a little bit.  I really feel that way reading her journals. I am at the very beginning of this book and I am loving the Plath I am seeing in these pages. She is a young woman just at the beginning of adulthood, finding her way. She has really amazing insights and observations about life. The best thing about this book, though, is the writing. She truly was an amazing talent, even at a young age. Her journal is especially wonderful because she is so open and uninhibited. I feel like there is something slightly contrived about her poetry, like it’s a little bit stiff (if that makes sense). So far in her journals, that feeling is not there. It feels pure, unfiltered.

    I’ve also been thinking about the fact that these journals are available for me to read, and whether or not this is OK. I’ve been thinking a lot about how Ted Hughes had control of her estate after she died and controlled how her poetry and journals were published posthumously. I think about how much money he made off of her poetry. Is this OK? Is this something that Plath would’ve wanted? Would have Plath  wanted the world to read all of her journals in their entirety? It all seems a little bit exploitative. I mean, she is no longer with us, but still.

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