Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Ode to the Scheben Branch

This protruding thought clouds my mind.
The thought of moving from the compact Scheben library to the new, bigger, industrious Burlington branch sounds pretty bland and mundane on the surface. But there's so much more to it. I find myself playing sad-sounding indie songs behind a corny montage of my 4 years spent working at Scheben as a Page. I'm moving so I can be closer to NKU, where I'll be living next year. It's like an early graduation [I started working there at the beginning of Freshman year]. I'm moving on. Moving on from the place I listened to hundreds of hours of podcasts. The place I started at listening to MXPX and MCR and eventually grew to appreciate Yann Tiersen and The Turnbull AC's.
The Scheben library was a refuge. A place that remained constant in the weekly routine of school and homelife. I knew that two times a week, and occasionally weekends, I would be there.
The path between the towering book shelves I've walked through so many times hold years of my thoughts and ambitions. Letters to forgotten summer loves, lists of goals and "to do's", and sparse pages of self pity and realization. All glimpses into the hormonal raw emotion that has collected over the years on the backs of scrap paper and loose leaf.
I know, I'm romanticizing a brick building that sits next to a Krogers. But the thought of leaving the place I spent 15 hours each week for 4 years brings back a surge of memories.
Essentially, no momentous change will have been made in my transition. I'll still be working the same days and hours, walking the the same narrow paths between book shelves while listening to my favorite podcasts. It's just the thought of driving past it on my way to Burlington, working with new people, and not seeing the unknown, yet familiar faces of the regulars at Scheben. It's the beginning of new part of my life. A stop to the normal everyday routine. A new page in my life.

haha I'm sorry but I had to end it on that last line. It's so lame but it fit well.

Monologue: Part Deux

well, after realizing how terrible the grocery monologue was, I decided to write a new one at 12 am the night before I was to present it to the class.
It was about the time I spent 8 hours alone in Gate 7 of Reagan International (I was on standby).

It begins like this:
"I sat on a cream colored sofa in the Washington D.C. Hilton waiting for a cab."

And it ends like this:
"He didn't seem to care about the wait and neither did I."

I wrote it down and I don't feel like typing it out so that's all you're going to get...

Alright, well I guess that's all. I some more to say but I'm starting a new post.