The Pursuit of the Lady of the Books

I will suppose that every forest has its fair spirit that lurks among the misty boughs and branches of its sylvan realms. There is such a forest here at HU. It is in the library. And likewise, our library has its own bright and beautiful spirit charming the distracted eyes of readers as she walks by shelving books on aisles. I've noticed her before around campus, like a quick glimpse of the sun's rays on a cloudy day. A nice interlude of beauty, but then it passes and things go on as before, and that radiant spark quickly forgotten.
Until one day, a couple of days ago, I happened to be in the library, and I noticed her again. With her long flowing hair, she looked like a fairy tale princess who had just leaped out of the very storybooks she way shelving. -And this time the idea jumped to me, that I had to make an attempt at getting to know this fair lady of the books. I had no idea how. How does one take a romantic-interested stab at someone he doesn't even know? This is the impossibility of our modern dating age. This was the clarion call of a chivalric challenge. And I......I heard its bold trumpet blast and would mount up and gird myself for the challenge. I just didn't know how.
Soon, the idea came to me, and the next night I strutted into that great hall of books, along with 2 of my friends for they surely wanted to witness such a spectacle. Then the great joust began. She, as a librarian, was helping people find books in the reference section. I trotted forward bravely, saying, "I can't seem to find this book. It's got a lengthy title; could you help me find it?" I handed her the notecard which had written on it, "How to Ask Out the Extaordinarily Beautiful Library Girl When You've Never Talked to Her And It Makes You Nervous to Even Think of Doing So". As her eyes scanned the card, her voice rasped out the words, "You Dork!" And when she looked up, I asked, "So do you have the call number for that book, you know, the 'call' number?"
She told me that I should try typing that title into the computer as she shoved the card back into my hand. So I, being completely dismounted and unhorsed, crawled back to my table and wrote on another notecard. I had lost that match, but I was not entirely vanquished, time for round 2. I charged back towards her saying, "Well, if you couldn't find that book maybe you can help me find this one." I handed her the card. It read, "How to Regain One's Confidence Back After Being Shot Down Very Cruelly And Without Remorse". She smiled a bit and retorted that one's confidence is a poor thing to lose, then went back to putting books on the shelf.
I couldn't believe it. All the charm, all the wit, all the courage, yea, all the corniness, I mustered up for that and I was, in return, defeated, conquered, battered, and left counting my battle wounds. -But it did make me laugh, and was a great story among the guys. (and sometimes that's all that really matters).
But then circumstances began turn, and every now and then I would run into the lady of the books, and one time she greeted me and introduced herself to me. Her name's ironically, Miss Booky. And only a couple of days after my pursuit, we both found ourselves walking and talking around campus. I took this lady, this princess of print, out this weekend and we had a good time. I have a date with her tomorrow night. Looks like we princes and knights of the pursuit should never be afraid to fall off our high horses every now and then. For it is in that low position that we attract the eyes of whatever fair damsel or maiden we ride out for.

Stubborn Eyelids

I guess I should begin this blog/journal with the admittance that this is primarily being used to ward off my current, yet chronic, and ironically tiresome battle with insomnia. I cannot sleep. My mind won't let me , but rattles on. Images giving shape to thoughts, thoughts giving shape to emotions, and finally emotions giving shape to actions. My action being either getting really angry and ranting around like a madman, or doing something constructive....like pouring all these racing thoughts that my mind obsesses over onto paper, hoping to type them the next day.
So, I finally give in to this new technological fad...."blogging" around 3:30am, Saturday morning, sometime in February. Last night I didn't sleep til 4:00. -And that was with the aid of 3 Tylenol P.M.'s and Nyquil. I think my roommate thinks I'm a lunatic for I was in some sort of drunken stupor/rage. Ripped another shirt of mine. Too many shirts of mine are gone because of this.
Wow, this does work a little bit, I just yawned twice in 3 minutes. Maybe I can sleep NOW...and maybe this blog will contain more than me waiting at the port to be shipped to that delightful world of dreams, but......Wait!....I feel sleep slowly creeping its way up to me...Maybe
I should...goodnight...everybody.
.....False Alarm. ...Sorry, sorry...No sooner when I clicked the light off and snuggled my head down inside my pillow, than all these other thoughts came to me about all the things I could write about on this new blog of mine. About my Spanish class, about this librarian I'm beginning to date, about all kinds of daily adventures that happen to me. I was thinking of all the words I could use, and all the points of view I could show, of the great and wonderful times we'll share together....you as my readers....I as your writer. I'm just so excited about it all. There are so many things to tell...I...I...Hold on, on 2nd thought, i feel sleep again...It's funny...I...Goodnight.
....Okay, i've had enough, another false alarm. I'm so tired of not being tired. I'm going to go for a drive and gets some moonlight. It's about 4:30, I'll sleep another day.