Sherri Cornelius

It seems like everyone I know online and in real life has been sick recently, so I guess we were bound to get it. Luckily the worst of it has fallen on my days off, so I haven’t had to jump through any hoops to accommodate the doctor visit and school missed. The children are all at school now, but I won’t relax until they hop off the bus this afternoon, bright-eyed and energetic.

I still have a slight cough but overall feel quite good. Which means I probably won’t be able to sit still long enough to finish the edits on BVA. I’ll try, though, because I need to get it ready for proofreading. I don’t have anyone lined up for this yet, but I know I can’t do it. I would feel comfortable paying someone, is how much I know I can’t do it. Way too close.

So I want to finish editing, and I also want to finish reading “Name of the Wind.” What will probably happen instead is bill-paying, laundry-doing and toilet paper-buying. This is quite apparent now that I’ve tried and failed to write a long, coherent post. Apparently I can’t concentrate on words today. In fact, it’s quite tempting to just let this post sit in the drafts folder like all the other false starts, but I won’t. IF I can sit here long enough to think of a title.

I’ve been rockin’ it at the library. They say I’m a “quick study.” And indeed, much of how they operate hits me right in the instincts. It seems almost too easy. The time I spend there doesn’t feel like work.This is great for the prospects of my being able to handle a second job.

Or maybe when I finally get Black Veil Angel out in the world, I’ll sell a million copies at five bucks a pop and then I’ll just be working at the library for fun.

Haha, I’m so funny.

But even figuring I won’t sell a million copies (or even a hundred) I’m still on track to publish BVA by, oh, say, March-ish. I was thinking about entering the Amazon Breakthrough Whatever, but I realize that this book is not for that contest. And so I’ll continue with my little self-publishing venture.

My main goal here is to finalize BVA in my mind. When I put Mon Petit Ami out there, it was after years of going back to it, over and over, trying to fix it. It rarely left my thoughts. I put it “under the bed” permanently four or five times, only to find it as an itch in my brain some time later. Probably every person reading this has scratched that itch once or twice.

Then when I needed a piece to experiment with on Smashwords, it seemed like the logical choice. Imperfect, yes, but fairly solid and fun. I straightened its hair bow and pushed it onstage, and you know what? The itch left me. I published it over a year ago and not once have I had the urge to edit. NOT ONCE. I rarely even think about it anymore. I’m free! I’m hopeful this will be the case with BVA as well.

And if a few people get a little enjoyment out of it, all the better.

It feels good to be writing again, even if it’s the clinical, critical kind of writing that is editing. This isn’t rewriting. I’ve rewritten enough. This is taking out stuff I’m not sure of and filling in the gaps..with, by the way, fresh and untainted writing. A good piece to stretch my legs on after all this time, and when I’m finished I might even start a new book.

No pressure.

The electricity is out, so this is my excuse to finally write a post. I’ve said it before, the more I have going on the less inclined I am to write about it, and I guess it’s still true.

My job at the library has its pros and cons, as every job. Working in the stacks can be lonely, shelving books tedious and dusty. But I also love knowing where everything is. I get to see all the new books as they come in, and feel a bit of pride in being the one to place a new book for the first eager hands. After reshelving the same authors over and over I know who’s popular in a hands-on way, rather than a sales-numbers way. (Looking at you, Roberts and Patterson.)

Straightening a section to perfection satisfies my need to tame chaos. When I come back around an hour later and see that my beautifully aligned books now look like a mouthful of broken teeth do I feel annoyed? Nope. I feel happy that people were there, diving in head first, and I joyfully straighten them again. For some reason I feel this especially in the teen section. I love connecting people with books.Sure, I have to wake up the occasional group of homeless people sprawled in Adult Fiction. But I love love LOVE leading a customer right to her favorite author.

I wish I could work full time, but I don’t think my body could handle shelving 40 hours a week. It’s a physically demanding job what with all the walking and bending and kneeling. And mentally demanding, what with the constant Dewey Decimal figuring.

I rarely think of the sewing factory. When I do, the memory feels more like a dream, one of those awful tedious things that lasts all night and gives me a headache. If my time at the factory served a purpose in my growth, it might have only been to remind me what it feels like to earn a full paycheck. I do miss the money. But I also know that there’s potential to move up in the library to a level I’d never reach at the factory. So it’s a better long-term investment.

The only thing I’m really worried about is my headaches. The migraines are a regular thing again, and when the city installs air fresheners in our building in a month or two, I think they’ll only get worse. (You can bet I cried when I heard that news.) I’ve a renewed determination to find out why my migraines are happening, and going back to work has actually helped to better home in on the likely problem.

I’ll try to keep updating the blog on a more regular basis, since I also have some writing news to share.

I have left the worst (to me) job in the world behind. I know some people work there if not happily then somewhat contentedly, but for me it was pain wrapped in gloom stuffed with cabbage. I left on Friday, to start at the library on Monday.

I took with me some small cuttings of fabric and balls of thread from the trash, along with a button which had been stuck in a crack in the concrete floor beside my machine since about my second day. My intention was to burn these things as a symbol of my freedom. I expected the transition weekend to be spent ridding myself of the sewing factory and welcoming the library into my brain space.

I was surprised to find myself putting off this symbolic burning of denim I’d been looking forward to all week. I didn’t need it after all. The factory was just gone, as soon as I walked out the door. Now and then through the weekend I would remember I never had to go back there, whereupon I would be flooded with relief and I might hoot and/or holler for just a sec, but by Sunday I was pretty much done with the hoots and hollers.

I was also surprised to find that I wasn’t frozen with giddy anticipation for my first day at the library. I sort of thought I might be too nervous to sleep Sunday night. But no, I had a feeling of peace and went to sleep with no trouble. Woke up ready to go, calm. I got a little antsy as the time grew nearer to leave, but it was no worse than any other appointment-nerves. Just trying to calculate the time I need to leave, make sure I have everything, etc. Starting my first day at the library didn’t seem especially significant or electrifying—just right. About time.

Being a shelver means I’m walking a lot. Constant movement, as with sewing, except I’m using my lower body more than my upper body. Once again I have to go through a period of adjustment, but hopefully this time I end up stronger rather than broken. This changing schedule is going to be strange for a while. I’ll be working evening shift sometimes, something I haven’t done since Wal-Mart in college. This means that I’m constantly thinking about what time I’m supposed to go to work, what time it is currently, and checking the schedule to make sure I haven’t gotten the time wrong.

Today I don’t have to go in till four. It’s so strange to be home all alone! Only four months ago this was what I did every day, but it feels like a lifetime.

Thanks for sticking with me through the ups and downs. It’s been a long time since I felt really good about something.

I started calling the sewing factory “the place where dreams go to die.” My brother pointed out that in “Dinner for Schmucks” they say cabbage is the smell of dead dreams. Two days later, early morning, I smelled cabbage. No way, I said to myself and laughed. At lunch I smelled it again, and a feeling of rightness seeped into my being. Cabbage, dead dreams, fits this place to a tee. Apparently, one of the girls can’t get enough cabbage and heats it up in the microwave, sending the smell wafting over to my machine. I told her about the dead dreams line, and she laughed. We shared a moment. One of the few bright spots I’ve experienced there.

I guess I had forgotten just how much it sucks out in the job world. I was expecting reason and welcome and cooperation. I had forgotten how everybody gets up in your business while you’re just doing the best work you can, how there’s always someone judging you and strangely willing to tell you how you fall short.

BUT…

I had a job interview at the library. My interview was less nerve-wracking since the interviewer was my volunteer liaison at the library. I don’t know why, but she likes me a lot and is willing to go out of her way to help me. It’s good to have someone on your side.

The next step is waiting for my background check to complete. My advocate called me on Wednesday to make a provisional offer of employment, contingent on the OSBI report coming back clean--which, uh, yeah. No problems there. I had to suppress my joyous noises because I was in the snake den, i.e. the break area of the sewing factory, so I hope she understood how pumped I was. I think she did.

So the only thing I’m worried about is the part-time nature of the job. I’ll be making about as much per hour, but varying hours. It’ll be a challenge to fill in with a supplemental job if I need (or want) more money. That’s a worry that changes nothing in the way of the action I will take, which is to quit the soul-and-hand-crushing sewing job and cannonball right smack in the middle of a part-time question mark.

If everything works out I’ll be a shelver in less than a week’s time. Whenever I remember this tidbit my eyes well up and my body tingles. I belong there. You know how people say “you just know”? I knew from the beginning I didn’t belong at the sewing factory, and despite my natural optimism and every attempt to fake it till I make it, I haven’t had a single moment when I thought I might belong there. It literally smells like cabbage. However, I knew from the first time I set foot in this particular library that it was my place. When I go there I smile. I relax. So what’s the smell of vibrant, living dreams?

I’ve written three posts over the past few weeks and discarded all of them. Too mopey. My mood is on the upswing, though, so let’s see if I can keep the complaining to a minimum.

I’m getting settled as much as I can be in my new job. It’s funny how little the kids’ lives have changed as opposed to how much things have changed for me. The only difference for them is that I leave a few minutes before they get on the bus, and dinner is slightly less healthy. Both their father and I are home before they return, and our evenings go about how they did before, at least from their vantage point. I miss having time to myself and I’m tired, but having money again is fantastic. Between the two new incomes we’re making more than the hubs was making by himself at his old job. We’re caught up on bills and can start working on paying down the credit cards.

If my hands hold up, that is. I mentioned before how hard sewing blue jeans is on the hands. After a month and a half the rest of my body is adjusted, but the fingers and wrists are just going downhill. That’s blue-collar working for ya. You’re just gonna ache, and that’s all there is to it. But seriously, if it doesn’t get better real soon I’m going to start looking for something else

The only thing is, I’m still waiting on the library. Yeah, that’s still in the works! They’re going to need someone “soon”. She doesn’t know when but she will call me because I’m her pick for the job. Part time, probably weekends. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever, but I only started volunteering there at the end of July. Holy crap, it feels like a year but it’s only been three months. I can’t believe so much has changed in that short period.

So my plan is to go to part time at the overalls factory when I get the library gig. I don’t want to find another full-time job only to have to leave when/if the library thing comes through in three months. HOWEVER, all my plans seem to turn to shit, so we’ll see what really happens.

Well that’s enough for now, just wanted to put something up here before someone thinks I died.

Well, I made it through my first week at the sewing factory. As I type this my fingers feel like cooked spaghetti. I did without coffee, worked through gasp-inducing back spasms, endured both the curious stares and complete indifference with which I was greeted.

But I made it.

My head was down; I endured; I coped. That was it. I missed my home and I felt physically crappy. Caffeine withdrawal didn’t help those first couple of days. I wasn’t aware I wouldn’t be able to take my coffee to my machine, and I didn’t have time to make and drink my usual two cups. By Wednesday, I got the bright idea to take Excedrin, which contains delicious caffeine along with the painkillers for my muscles, and drink Mountain Dew at my first break. It helped.

Monday was okay. Tuesday was a monster, because after work there were parent/teacher conferences and band practice. Wednesday was probably the best day, but that’s when the back pain started to get intrusive, and it just got worse until by yesterday afternoon I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I couldn’t even put my arms out to hold the denim without the muscles on either side of my spine seizing up. So I just gasped and said OMG and sat conspicuously still until I could continue. This happened between each pair of overalls.

But I made it!

Oh, and the fragrance. It’s a factory, so one would assume the fragrance would be better. I was surprised to realize it was worse than in the library. Each stall of the bathroom had a can of spray disinfectant that apparently everyone used on the seat before they sat down. Nightmare. My machine happens to sit right near the bathroom, the break area, and a couple of repair machines that everyone uses to fix their rejects. Plenty of people nearby with their smelly detergent, lingering air freshener, perfume and shampoo. Then Friday the weird old janitor dude mopped behind me and sprayed the tables in the break area. I thought I was going to die.

But I did not die!

Yes, I was miserable for an average of 92.7% of every day last week. But the good thing is that the first week is OVER! I know what each day will bring and how to prepare, and at the end of next week there will be a paycheck waiting for me for the work I did this week. Positive thoughts, Sherri, positive thoughts!