Working (primarily) in the brand shiney new Seattle Public Library Central branch. It's all windows and metal and funk.

Entered one of those stages - the stages where I sit around waiting for the rest of my life to begin. Maybe I should learn to utilize this sort of time. I seem to come across enough of these periods.

Its much harder to wait when you know you're waiting for a specific item and it is within your grasp. When you're travelling through the tunnel in pitch black pitchness at a constant velocity, you don't even notice you're moving. You forget yourself in the pitchness and your consciousness spreads. You take in all the pitch and you are the tunnel and yourself travelling through the tunnel. When that prick of light jumps into existence afar it snaps you back into your body, where you once again must wait.

Hope is the death of hope.