Yesterday I sat watching "Game of Thrones," reading The Hobbit, and just thinking random Jenny thoughts, when all of a sudden I realized this time next year I would be thrust into the world of real. Real job, real payments, real living on my own - real adulthood. It was only at this moment that simultaneously I realized I would be finished finally with school, waving an English degree at any publishing company that would hire me. Then all at once I became disillusioned by this mere qualification because I realized how abundant is a BA degree in English. I hungered all of a sudden for the idea of something else I could do beyond this last impending year of my undergrad, knowing I would never be the type to have enough courage to go back to school later on in life.
I recalled then of Mrs. Oliva, the librarian who also ran the book club at my high school, incidentally the only club or activity of which I was ever a part in high school. I never had interest in anything in school besides the prospect of being able to read and respond to the events of a book I enjoyed along with other students. I always loved Mrs. Oliva's comments, and how excited she would get when we began a new book, even if we didn't get it or only a handful of us (or even one or two) showed up to the meetings. The way Mrs. Oliva's eyes shown so brightly when she was excited to share her fascination with some intricate detail none of us had noticed in our readings...it was all so inspiring for me. I wanted always after to be able to pick out the finer details of novels just as did our librarian. I wanted to be the one in the future who would make others excited to notice things in literature in just the same way.
My parents moved us around a lot growing up, but no matter how many schools we attended, I could always recall the way each school's library looked. Luckily and by coincidence it just so happened that I attended only one high school, and there I found my favorite library of all the ones growing up: The way Timberland High School centers on the library, with it there on the second floor, ceiling to floor windows overlooking the entrance. It made for such a beautiful view: a relaxing natural light that filled the entire room and glinted off the books nestled in their cases; the histories and biographies stole the greatest view of the woods to the west of the building.
I remember taking a photography class Sophomore year and having no talent for the camera eye, though I knew exactly which room of the building I would be focusing on for my projects.
The library was a place I thought of particularly on the longer days of high school, when I'd spent nearly 3 or 4 years walking the halls of the same building, thinking nothing would give me solace until I was through with the place. I would ride the bus and think of my day on autopilot, for I had walked the route to the bus stop and the way to my classes so often I became a zombie in my own shoes, willing to break the monotony the only way I knew how - by going again to the library and beginning to read the premises on the backs of other new, exciting books, where the stories would remind me of lives far more exciting than my own, and possibly ones similar to what I'd one day have in my own.
Libraries in their entirety meant for me solace and excitement in the school days full of monotony. I can see myself making a life in them for the rest of my working days, possibly using them to inspire another soul meant for a life surrounded by books, in just the same way Mrs. Oliva inspired me those seven or so years ago.
This is all why I've recently decided on continuing my education next fall at University of Missouri - Columbia (Mizzou), where I will take graduate courses to obtain my MA in Library Science. I've never been more sure of a decision because I've been so contented these two days through with the knowledge that I'm working towards a life I know will be perfectly suited to me.