My first job in IT involved working for a real winner of a boss; the type of boss who needs to use her position and authority to keep her employees down. The type that relied on her patron to borrow the degree of authority she had, and ultimately to keep her job. However, she failed to realize that trying to intimidate a 20-something fresh out of college probably wasn’t as easy as to beat down the older employees.

At least once every week or so I would try and make a change that would enable us to be more efficient, to improve our level of service, or to make our lives easier. She hated that; things were to be done her way or not at all. To tear me down, she used to call me “book smart”. Because all I did was read - she had all this real life experience.

I never really took it as an insult; I always loved to read and always wanted to pursue knowledge. I wasn’t happy to accept someone’s word for why something wouldn’t work - I wanted to look it up and know why. I always had in the past; partially because I loved to read, and partially because my parents always told me to go figure things out on my own.

Book weren’t just for helping to solve problems - books were my escape. An escape from my family, an escape from the hell that was my gradeschool, an escape from feeling useless and sad all the time.

Today’s poem brings all those feelings back to me; I still read, not as much as I used to but still quite a lot. Books are still my friends. Today, Robert Southey talks about how in his mind the books are living friends of his, friends who will never let him down.

My Days among the Dead are Past

My days among the Dead are past;
 Around me I behold,
Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
 The mighty minds of old;
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal,
 And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
 How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

My thoughts are with the Dead, with them
 I live in long-past years,
Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
 Partake their hopes and fears,
And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.

My hopes are with the Dead, anon
 My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
 Through all Futurity;
Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.

-- Robert Southey