SELF, Day Eleven: Libraries

This morning was not easy to deal with. On the only day I get to sleep in during the week, my roommate was up at seven o'clock in the morning banging pots and pans around. Not pleasant. Needless to stay, it was before 8 that I was showered. Argh. Giant argh.

In response, I went out for a morning-long coffee break with Sheila. It was serene and we talked about very nice things for a very long time.

She dropped me at the Library so I could tutor a lovely child. Marks are so important so that kids in Grade 6 get into a good secondary school, that many of them have tutors at this impressionable age. It's really wonky, but great for me. I get a positive kid who really wants to succeed and the subject matter is easy peasy lemon squeezy, as they say.

I darted off to the train station and hopped up the Northern Line to drop into the British Library for some research about Greece, Turkey (my October trip) and lent. Yup...reading up on some old Lenten stuff. I find religious studies very interesting actually, being that we, as lay people, know very little about the Bible and its underpinnings, even after years of education in a Catholic school. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of light shed on the whole, "worthy" debate that I'll have to write up and share.

For now though, some pics from the day's adventure into L Town...



Before I go too much further, let it be said that this site has not disappointed yet again with the suggestions about what not to miss before one leaves London. I'm in love with Time Out (did number 33 today).

These grounds belong to the library and are closed off from traffic at about 5:30 on Saturdays. This entire quad is all just for library patrons. Cool eh? Felt so very university-ish (une-ever-sit-ay communit-ay cen-ta! That's for you, Leanne.) The cafe outside is called, "The Last Word". Cute, right?



Whoever said England has crappy weather certainly did not live here during the 2010-2011 school year. There have been more spectacular days here this year than there have been back home. I'm in love with spring.

I took a walk then through Islington up to Angel tube station, snapping pics along the way.

Crafts Council? What IS that?!
"All hail to the Speaker of the Scrapbooking House."
I shudder at the thought.

The blossoms remind me so much of the cherry blossom festival in Korea last year.





And then I found what could only be described as Chevy Chase's car, circa 1978.
I love this city.




Thought of going back to the British Museum for more bibimbap, but settled instead on an amazingly enormous burrito from Tortilla, just across from the Angel Tube Station. Sure, not the most luxurious of locations, but it was one good tube of food ;)

Found a man selling flowers from Holland...






...saw the most amazing full moon high in the sky (it's supposed to be the "biggest moon" we've seen in years. Not sure what that means...are we closer or are greenhouse gases changing our perspective?), as I walked home with...

these.

All in all, it was a pretty restful day once I was out of the house. I think I needed to see something new, breath in some city air, and do some thinking about something a bit bigger than my own life for a bit to clear my head.

It's been a hard week, not just for me, but for some friends of mine. I've talked a lot about my experience with the Ghost and it's brought up some interesting thoughts I hadn't had for a long while (or ever, frankly).

I've been reminded this week that love comes in many forms and can't be measured on a spectrum. I can't love YOU more and you less...I just love you both differently. Love is a remarkable, oscillating way to BE, not way to feel. It's both memories and the unknown future; it's ridiculously adolescent and simultaneously mature; it's butterflies and dread in the stomach.

It's nonsensical and fair and honest and cautionary.

It's everything, really,
because there is no definition
that works for every one person,
and no identification of a feeling
that is uniformly felt for all people you love.

I can't help but think of Bette Midler: "Spring can really hang you up the most." Rest assured, friends, this too shall pass. Until then, here's the lyrics to Bette's song. It might make you feel better to know we all get the springtime blues sometimes.

Once I was a sentimental thing;
threw my heart away each spring.
Now a spring romance
hasn't got a chance.
Promised my first dance to winter.
All I've got to show's a splinter
for my little fling.

Spring this year has got me feeling
like a horse that never left the post.
I lie in my room
staring up at the ceiling.
Spring can really hang you up the most.

Morning's kiss wakes trees and flowers,
and to them I'd like to drink a toast.
But I walk in the park
just to kill the lonely hours.
Spring can really hang you up the most.

All afternoon the birds twitter-twitt.
I know the tune. This is love, this is it.
Heard it before
and don't I know the score.
And I've decided that spring is a bore.

Love seems sure around the new year.
Now it's April. Love is just a ghost.
Spring arrived on time,
only what became of you, dear?
Spring can really hang you up the most.
Spring can really hang you up the most.

Love came my way. I thought it would last.
We had our day, now it's all in the past.
Spring came along, a season of song,
full of sweet promise
but something went wrong.

Doctors once prescribed a tonic.
Sulfur and molasses was the dose.
Didn't help one bit.
My condition must be chronic.
Spring can really hang you up the most.

All alone, the party is over.
Old man winter was a gracious host.
But when you keep praying
for snow to hide the clover,
spring can really hang you up the most.

I'll post the song in a sec so you can have a listen:

it's quite adorable.

Reminds me of 13 Allan Drive in the third grade :)

I'm sleepy now and just might hit the sack on a Saturday night before 11. Whoot whoot, as Colette would say ;)

I'm digesting one quote I read today that has perplexed me. A book called, "Fasting on the Word", edited by David Bartlett and Barbara Taylor said that one particular passage in the Bible challenged "Karl Barth's paradox of justification-- by justification we are what we are not."

I don't get it. I'll have to do some intellectualizing tomorrow.

Have a great night and a sunny Sunday, whatever the weather.