The Thing With The Librarian And The Bookmark

Last week I went into the library to pick up some books that I had on reserve. 

When the librarian brought them up to the counter she noticed that one of them had a bookmark in it.

She said something along the lines of “Oh, someone forgot their bookmark, happens from time to time,” and removed it from the book, presumably with the intention of setting it aside. 

I made a throwaway “One of life’s little bonuses, I suppose,” comment and went to pick up the two books she had just checked out in my name. 

Librarian (sounding odd): “Oh do you want to keep it?”

Me (all flustered): “Uh maybe, what’s on it?”

Librarian (still sounding slightly off): “… It’s a summer reading list bookmark.”

Me (feeling awkward as hell by this point and acting slightly too cheerful): “Might as well.” 

Librarian: “Uh well, there you go… Enjoy!” (there wasn’t quite a question mark at the end of this statement but it almost felt like there should be)

Me: Cheers!!! (the extra exclamation marks are there to show I was being needlessly enthusiastic at this point).


The whole thing was just… Well, I blame the librarian.

You find a random, generic bookmark that was clearly not lovingly crafted by anyone’s grandchildren or a hand-painted memento of the trip to Venice that someone saved their whole life to take and you should just go ‘oh hey, a bookmark; lucky you, you don’t have to find one when you start reading’ and move on with your life.

Instead we ended up with one of those ‘I just congratulated someone because they said they were enjoying the change in weather and now I don’t know how to take it back without making it worse’ kind of exchanges.

When I said ‘one of life’s little bonuses’ I wasn’t talking about me, maybe it was a bonus for the library, hell if I care.
I didn’t mean ‘score’ or ‘truly my life is blessed and this bookmark was meant to come to me, thanks karma’ or anything like that.
I was just trying to say something less bland than ‘huh, how about that?’ and things got weird.

I mean, did the librarian think that I had been demanding the bookmark?
Because I didn’t really care.

And did she have her own plans for it which I was thwarting?
Because she was welcome to it, it’s just a promotional bookmark that they printed off when they made up the summer reading list.

And why had I asked what was on it?
Was I going to reject it if it didn’t live up to my standards or was advertising something I found objectionable or dull?

As I walked out of the library was she thinking ‘the hell happened there?’ and planning to go find her co-worker who was shelving books and tell the tale of the exciting and confusing exchange she had just had with some penny-pinching nutjob who was determined not to get screwed out of a free bookmark that was obviously her birthright!?

The thing about all of this is I have not spent days rehashing these events or analysing them from different angles like a detective in a procedural show who just knows that the answer is staring them in the face if they could just work out the right way to come at the problem.

All of these thoughts zipped through my head in the time it took to turn around and step away from the counter.

When I tell one of these stories to people or, for instance,  explain all of the considerations that occurred to me when I realised that people who don’t routinely wear hairpins will be at a serious disadvantage if they ever need to pick a lock in a survival situation* the level of detail I can cram in will convince them that I have been thinking about this for days possibly in the place of all the sleeping and taking medication they assume I should have been doing instead but these thoughts** take place at the speed of light.

I could possibly comfortably spend an hour outlining the expanded universe of ‘what would happen if I got stuck in an elevator with my handbag vs what would happen if I got stuck in an elevator without my handbag’ but that doesn’t mean I’ve been mulling it over in my spare time, just that I took an elevator this morning and in the space of time that it took to blink I realised that I would never be able to Bruce Willis my way out of a stuck elevator to safety what with their roof hatches all being locked these days, and I certainly wasn’t going to do a Resident Evil and try to squeeze myself out of a hole that was clearly not big enough to fit an adult human through, even a slender one, so my choices going forward would depend on a multitude of variables including the resources available to me at the time.

One of the side effects of this is that I am constantly having people try to soothe or calm me down as they are convinced I am working myself into a tizz.

I’m not.

I’m usually just trying to make conversation.

I think of these sorts of things at all times about all things not because I am over-invested in working out what happened/will happen and my place in it all and what that all might mean, it just makes everyday events more interesting.

Because everyday events are usually dull, as are the conversations that recall them.

Everyone seems willing to engage in the world’s most boring theoreticals (eg, ‘what I would do if I won the lottery’, always the same answers: pay off various debts, travel, buy a house, buy a Tony Stark-esque garage full of classic cars, develop an addiction) but no-one wants to have a crack at the ones that actually require some world-building, thinking, or fun (eg, if there was an EMP event and all tech got knocked out for long enough for our various cities and suburbs to devolve into feudal city-states do you think that they would be able to go back to ‘normal’ once we got tech up and running again or would the shift to small local government be permanent?)

TL;DR, I got a new bookmark.



*I mean I don’t personally know how to pick a lock even if I did have a hairpin, but thanks to TV I’m convinced that a hairpin is technically a valid lock picking tool and that at some point some McGyver-esque person is going to turn to me saying ‘Thank god, there’s a woman here! We’re all saved! Miss, I need your hairpins!’ and I’ll have to explain that I don’t actually use them because my hair tends to spit them out like a toddler spits out vegetables and everyone will sit and stare at me mulishly for being a substandard woman until we all die, trapped for want of a hairpin.

**Like, should I start wearing hairpins just in case I’m ever in a survival situation? I would probably be better off putting a couple of paperclips in my pencil case because I already own paperclips and they’re actually a bit sturdier than some hairpins…***

***As a result of writing this blog post there is a possibility that I am considering adding a small number of paperclips and a packet of chewing gum to my handbag just in case. I would hate to a) die because I didn’t have them b) be a disappointment to McGyver.



UPDATE: You guys probably won't believe me but I swear to all that is sacred and/or delicious that when I got home after writing this post I found a hairpin on the floor of my bedroom!
WHERE DID IT COME FROM!?
I honest to Glod do not own any hairpins! 0_0

Johnny Castaway*

[This is a backdated post] 

When other people think about getting stranded on a deserted island I assume they're contemplating whether they would end up falling into one of the following familiar categories:

• Tom Hanks in Castaway
• Robinson Crusoe
• The Swiss Family Robinson
• Lord of the Flies
• The Admirable Crichton

... or striking out in their own inimitable way (either through extra hardcore survival-at-the-cost-of-all-else behaviour or double extra competence).

I bounce back and forth between the 'I would love to be stranded on a deserted island rather than in this meeting/yes this traffic jam is annoying but you would ascribe less importance to it after being stranded without modern conveniences' curse/blessing thought model; and the 'no but how would you really?' theoretical mindset.

Even if I start with the curse/blessing thought pattern it quickly slips into the theoretical because that's more interesting.

You start with the usual suspects:

• I'm going to need fresh water (Are there pools or springs on the island? Is it a tropical island that has coconuts I can drink from?)
• I'm going to need shelter (Are there materials I can easily build with? Are there caves? Are the caves safe or filled with creepy bugs/snakes/bat guano? Is the weather warm enough that I don't need to go crazy with the construction?)
• I'm going to need food (Are there animals on the island? Would I actually be able to hunt them? If not, how difficult/dangerous would fishing be? Can I safely identify any edible plant life?)

But after that I start getting down into the details, either those that people might not think about or those that people might not think about that much:

• Would I be eaten alive by friggin' insects?
• What is the likelihood of heat exhaustion/super sunburn?
• If there are animals on the island, how many are there? If there are and I'm capable of hunting them, how often should I be eating meat to a) keep myself healthy and b) make sure I don't chomp my way through the population at a non-sustainable rate?
• Would it be better to avoid land animals and the possibility of worms other contaminants/infestations they might contain and stick to seafood?
• Are there dangers with the fish (outside of blowfish = bad) that I don't know about?
• Are any of the plants or fish etc that I'm depending on seasonal?
• Are the plants I'm eating abundant and/or self-seeders or am I likely to nom my way through the entire lot and then find myself nomless?
• Is the likelihood of passing vessels dictated by the seasons? (eg, lots of tourists in late spring/summer/early autumn and then nooooooothing through late autumn/winter/early spring)
• Am I looking at the possibility of tropical storms?
• Assuming I've washed ashore only with the clothes/accessories I'm wearing am I likely to be able to fashion basic tools or even start a fire?
• Will I be able to fish with a line (that I'm assuming I make myself) or is my fishing success going to depend on being able to stab fish out of the water?
• Am I going to get myself investigated and/or sampled by a local shark/predator if I try to swim out to more fish-rich waters?
• What if - just to flip shit around - I'm stranded on an island in the Northern Hemisphere? We're used to thinking of desert islands as tropical paradises where food grows, the weather ain't too bad, and you have materials to work with. If you're stuck on one of the windswept islands off of Scotland all you will have to work with is grass and maybe shellfish that cling to the rocks. There aren't likely to be trees or animals, probably no fresh water, probably no shelter, swimming to fish would be freezing and you wouldn't be able to see anything in the darker waters... Yeah you'd probably die of exposure, curled up on the grass...
• If you're on an island where are you aren't going to be immediately starved/frozen/poisoned/chomped to death, will you be able to stay mentally strong and healthy? Or will you be OK until you've got yourself set up and then give into despair once you realise that maybe you won't be discovered/rescued?

I think the desert island was the original 'how would you survive the end of the world?' scenario for kids who grew up before the apocalypse became such a central theme in our entertainment industry.
Whereas kids born after 2000 will be assessing their ability to survive based on the zombie apocalypse, the rise of the machines, contagion-based wipe out of a large portion of the world's population, or alien invasion, the seeds of survival planning were planted in my brain by the idea of being stranded on an island or in the wilderness.
It was then built upon by books like:

• The Lake at the End of the World by Caroline MacDonald
• The Cay by Theodore Taylor
• a bit of googling suggests Wolf of Shadows by Whitley Strieber might be one of the other books I remember
• Monkey Station by Ardath Mayhar

Even as a kid you understand that the desert island was about self-sufficiency as there is no society to depend upon, that it would also test your ingenuity and mental resilience.
Are you going to sit on the beach sobbing in the foetal position? Or are you going to at least try to get shit done?
Trying doesn't guarantee survival of course but are you the kind of person who will keep fighting for life or the kind who just waits for someone else to save you?

Anything that prompts you to ask yourself 'how much of this could I do myself?' or 'is there knowledge that I've never bothered to acquire because we can pay for goods and services and have them provided for us?' tends to prove fascinating because at least for me it tends to lead to an assessment of the structure of society and the role that plays in dictating the tools and materials available and lifestyles these things are able to support.

I suppose I could just imagine myself swaying back and forth in a hammock, enjoying a primitive fruit cocktail mixed in a coconut shell but even imaginary relaxed-me would only be able to relax if she knew that she had adequate shelter, water and food.
And would that involve having to store food for the non-fruiting times/winter?
And would that mean trying to form pottery and working out how to pickle food in a way that kept it viable and didn't make it poisonous?
And could you harvest sea-salt in a manner that allowed you to salt fish in a way that preserved it without rendering it nigh on useless?

And... and... and...?

Yeah, I can't really do the 'imagine a kind of non-optional holiday' daydreaming.
But I can consider logistics like a motherhugger.



*When we were kids we had the Johnny Castaway screen saver on our family computer and we spent more time watching the little screen saver man's adventures than we did using the computer. We were easily entertained and always convinced that one day we'd see him do something he'd never done before. Even now if one of us hums in a certain way the other two will know exactly what we're imitating.
Oh look, he's on Youtube! Yep, reeeally easily entertained :-D
In our defence it looks like there are 40 minutes worth of scenes so there would eventually be unseen ones popping up, prompting a flurry of excitement.
PS. Johnny Castaway would have died of dehydration and/or heatstroke and/or scurvy! Look at that island!

And On The Seventh Day He Rested... And Barbequed Some Lamb...

My landlord is a wonder of 'I figure this will work' ingenuity.

Since I've moved in to my current abode he has landscaped the entire garden, replaced the flyscreens on all of the windows, built a greenhouse and erected* a chicken coop to keep foxes out and chikkinz in.

This marvel of industry often result in me not having anywhere to put my rubbish or recycling for the week as his resourcefulness stretches to seeing wheelie bins as the perfect way to move and store mulch but it's hard to be fussed when he's building a little patio type dais around the base of a tree or making a cactus garden part of which is mounted on top of artfully arranged bits of old furniture.


The greenhouse did come as a bit of a surprise.
It wasn't there when I left for work that morning, when I returned in the evening he had built a framework around his favourite flowerbed and nailed opaque plastic sheeting over it in an attempt to keep his plants alive through the winter.
That day he had also thoughtfully installed a sensor light near the staircase for those winter evenings where you get home after dark and want to get up to your home and put on the heater without stubbing your toes or accidentally Home Alone-ing down the stairs in a humorous fashion.

Of course when you walk through the gate into a darkened yard and a blinding light suddenly hits you in the face illuminating a frosty quarantine tent full of ominous shadows and shapes it can cause you to stumble into a cactus, twist your ankle on an ornamental stone arrangement and drop your bag in a newly mulched and fertilised garden bed... but that's a small price to pay for having free vegetables routinely abandoned at your door because they can't possibly eat all of them all themselves.




*Hurr hurr

Do You Have Your Z-Day Buddy?

You ever have one of those days where you just can't stop thinking about zombies?
Where everything you do and everywhere you go is judged by whether it will make you more or less likely to survive?

Question: Say you go to the pool to do a few laps and as you were splashing back and forth, the pool were surrounded by zombies - exactly how screwed would you be?
It would depend on whether they were enterprising enough to follow you into the water or just stood swaying at the edge. If they did get topple into the pool you should be able to outswim them for a while, considering how unwieldy those guys would be in the water, but they'd get you eventually through numbers.
The second scenario, persistent poolside swaying, presents its own problems.
How long are you going to be able to survive on nothing more than water that is equal thirds H20, chlorine and tinkle?
What are the odds of anyone running a rescue mission to the pool 'just in case'?
Eventually you will pass out and drift to the edge and that will be that. You can console yourself with the thought you'll be all pruney and will probably taste weird.
Answer: Yeah, you're pretty screwed. Your chances of being able to beat a path to freedom with floaties and flippers are slim to none.

This is an important thought process as it can be factored into your Zombie Survival Action Plan.

Buildings are assessed on the number and nature of entry points. Decisions have to be made on whether it's safer to be up high (top floor = less random marauders) or on ground level (easier escape if breach occurs).

Where will you get food? How much can you carry with you without slowing yourself down? Will you survive the initial chaos and so on only to die of scurvy because you can't find any fresh produce? That would be so lame, death by vitamin deficiency...
When the utilities break down because all the engineers have been eaten, where will you get water?

Do you band together with other survivors (extra eyes/skills = good vs big group/target = bad) or do you go lone-wolf (easier to hide/run vs being eaten when you stop for a nap)?
You must also be very careful who you team up with, just in case they're planning to 'sacrificial lamb' you the first time you run into trouble.

How do you keep your blunt and/or sharp weapons handy for 'removing the head or destroying the brain' in the pre-Z-day world without looking like a crazy whacked-out vigilante? Though all those bastards will be laughing out the other side of their faces when they're eaten alive trying to defend themselves with their house keys... *ahem coff coff*

Remember! Supplies, position, defence!

There are also best case/worst case scenarios.
For example, Army bases.
An Army base would either be the best or worst place to be when the zombies rise.
Either you are surrounded by a group of highly trained and disciplined soldiers with a lovely cache of weapons and foodstuffs OR you end up surrounded by an until recently very fit and healthy horde of ravening flesh-munchers. And that isn't even taking into account the possibility of all these big, highly strung fellas going what I like to call goo-ga-lally, anointing themselves from head to toe in camouflage paint and declaring themselves the Lords of Life and Death and you their Official Bitch (Please note that your gender is irrelevant at this point: 'Official Bitch' is an equal opportunities position).

Depending on a variety of factors, survival may be a temporary thing.
Shuffle zombies vs creepy-assed sprinting zombies.
Military/scientific solution solutions forthcoming (Y/N)
Zombies die out vs we're all screwed.

In the event the negative rule came into effect in each of these cases you're pretty much doomed unless you're some kind of MacGyver/Aragorn hybrid: able to live off the land, make weapons from the contents of the odds and sods drawer (or the glove compartment) and with reflexes like a squirrel on speed.

I suppose all you can really do is keep your wits about you and take up a sport or hobby that will mitigate any suspicions that people might have about the number of heavy, swingable objects you keep about the place...