I believe a part of humanity is the desire to share; to express, to inspire, to show the world who we are and why we live. With no specific or meaningful message to express to the world, it is with this yearning I came to sit at my computer tonight, wondering myself what this post will become. I often renew my attempts at keeping a journal (for my posterity, if nothing else), then forget at night and the habit dies out, leaving me with a book holding only a few entries. Even after this, I often feel the urge to share my story, my thoughts, my life. My solution? Post here, making you all subjects to my pointless ravings.
Something exciting did happen Monday, I suppose, in my mind. Up until this point I've been very disappointed with my high school's library, seemingly holding nothing save a few badly written fantasy novels; I almost never went in because, as a direct contradiction of my very definition of library, it made me more depressed than anything else. This is all we pour into the budding minds of our adolescents? This is it?
Fortunately, due to a recent change in scheduling, I was left during Intervention period with nowhere to go and stumbled upon Moni and Ben; running out of time to find a classroom, I followed them into the library for some company if nothing else. This was the second time this had happened, and on the previous occasion I had picked up the first book of Scott Pilgrim VS The World; I had heard so much about it, and was curious. I was expecting grand adventures abounding with geekery and hilarity, however I was disappointed with stories of Scott having girlfriends and a gay room mate. Not quite what I was expecting.
When I walked in for the second time, I picked up the next book for continuity's sake; however, when I sat down, I was just overtaken with an immense disinterest and feeling of... Honestly procrastination of something better. As though I was wasting my time because there are thousands of amazing classics I have yet to read, and hardly any time in which to do so. I put the graphic novel back, and asked the librarian, not quite expecting anything, if they had a copy of Dante's Inferno. After a headdesk moment (the librarian's first reaction was "Isn't that a movie?), she informed me that there was something even better; they had a copy of the full Divine Comedy! I was shocked and excited, and she told me there was a door at the back of the library with a note explaining that students were prohibited from the area during Intervention period, but that I was allowed in anyway in order to retrieve my book.
I walked curiously into the back room holding a note with a number written on it, something I had no idea where to find. Immediately as I walked in, I saw something that made my heart flutter; Aristotle! Something beautiful and genius in this high school library! I continued on through the small, but full room in awe, ecstatic at my discovery. As I came upon the number (Dante 850.0, I believe) on the shelf, I saw a brand new copy of The Inferno, and right beside it, a beautiful treasure. An old, worn copy of a hardcover The Divine Comedy of Dante Aligheri, with writing in the cover and quotes highlighted throughout the text. If you know me in any way, you know just how much this made my heart flutter with excitement, just how beautiful an old, torn up, used book is to me. Upon opening the beautiful treasure, I noted that the book hadn't been checked out since six years ago, then six years before that. I found it sad, but heartening at the same time. As I've written about previously, there is somehow no other way to more fully connect with someone's soul as through a book. To see the stamps with dates riddled throughout the front inner cover was to see the footprints of a dozen other people with kindred spirits. I also noted how the first five or so dates had no year, which was somewhat disappointing; however, I spotted one year dated as early as 1960!
Fifty years, and someone happens upon the same, torn up book, with a wish to enrich the soul. What a wonderful thing.
Lashy
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