If you can't meet 'em, greet 'em...

Well, it's been about a month since I've been working out here, and I think it's going fairly well so far. There hasn't been too much that I haven't seen before, although I do learn something new at least twice a day...but it's finally starting to sink in. That is, the reality that I am here for at least the near future in more or less some state of permanence...and I think I can live with that. It is very busy more often than not, but it beats semi-permanent idleness any day. It's nice to feel useful and needed, and it felt so welcoming at the new faculty/staff meet and greet this afternoon. At any rate, the school year will soon be in full swing in the next few days, so I'm sure we'll not lack for things to do...

And I'm off...

My last few hours in Ontario for the next foreseeable while...Alberta, here I come (again)...don't forget your passport! A storm from the east descends upon you now, and none shall be unchanged in his wake.

Go west, young man...

Well, I'm perhaps not so young as I used to be although I am not exactly old, but I do find myself going west again. The last time I did that I followed my heart as far as the great western ocean, all the way to the mare pacifica, and while it was great while it lasted, ultimately that didn't really turn out as well as I had hoped. This is a new beginning for me, one that couldn't have come at a more auspicious time. I'm really looking forward to this new job in an old and familiar place, and I just hope I can give something positive back. And maybe, just maybe I might save myself in the process. A change of scenery doesn't guarantee redemption, but it's a start. So here's to this new chapter of my life...may it be all I wish for and more. I've lost the friends I needed losing, and lately it seems like these deep emotional scars will never truly heal. They say time makes all memories good ones in the end, and I hope that's true. But what I can do is throw myself into the work and try and help as many people as I can with this wonderful opportunity that has come my way.

Insomnia

My job has a very odd shift. I work at two-thirty in the afternoon. This would seem to be awesome on paper, as me sleeping in is a gross abuse of the term. I mean, who can't make it in to work in the afternoon? It's not like I have any kind of grounds for an excuse if I'm somehow late for two freakin' thirty in the afternoon! "Uhh, I um... slept in." That just wouldn't wash...Unfortunately, it's really thrown my sleep schedule out of whack. I'm really not tired late at night or in the early morning anymore when I should be sleeping. I mean, theoretically, if I wanted eight hours of sleep (which is overly generous) and still wanted some wiggle room, I could sleep at four a.m. and wake up by noon. And so, I find myself doing a lot of thinking late at night, looking at my life, looking at myself, and whiling away the time with various entertainments (of which I have a lot, trust me) My backlog of amusements is so bad I forget what I have sometimes and never get around to watching this DVD or playing that game. I waste more time debating what to do than actually doing it some nights. Presently, I'm munching my way through a box of Girl Guide cookies. I wasn't paying attention in the mall and got cornered, and how can you say no to a little kid in a uniform? Vile pixies blink their puppy dog eyes and the next thing you know you're walking away with six boxes. Brilliant marketing strategy if ever there was one..do you want to refuse them in public? Suddenly mothers are pelting you with rotten vegetables and little old ladies are whacking the heartless man's shins with their canes. I think I avoid sleep as much as possible because when it does come, it's rarely ever restful. The dreams come, and they fade away so quickly upon waking, but the vaguely unsettling feeling in my gut tells me they weren't about fields of cotton candy and rivers of spice. At least I don't have an ulcer yet, so far as I know (knock on wood).

May your arrows always fly true and strike their mark...

You can't see my arrow in this photo, but trust me, nothing but bullseye...actually, it split another arrow that was already there...yeah, okay no it didn't. It did hit the target though, I swear. Actually, accuracy wasn't as important in a massed formation of longbowmen as sheer volume of fire was. There really wasn't anywhere to run from a mass volley of bodkin arrows raining down from the sky, "blotting out the sun" as it were. Actually, for ease of access you'd just stick your spare arrows into the ground at your feet. Now the soil of the average medieval European field is probably not the most hygienic of substances, seeing as how they fertilized with manure, but while you were waiting you'd probably need to pee. Where better to do so than right at your feet? So if you were unfortunate enough to be struck by an arrow, you were probably looking at some septicemia at the very least. That's just insult to injury, getting shot with an arrow soaked in pee and excrement...yum. Also, a real longbow is taller than I am so yeah I'm really just pretending with this target bow here. I don't think I could even draw a real bow properly, much less fire it with any degree of skill or accuracy. This is why we invented these newfangled compound bows. The nifty pulleys help shoulder some of the burden of a two hundred pound pull.

Customer service...

Today, I received a rather unusual reference request. This particular girl was looking for a couple of textbooks (which is a whole other story, trust me) which she needed right away and here were the titles (which turned out to be nothing like the actual titles, not even close) etc. yadda yadda yadda. That in and of itself is nothing new. Ah, but here's the kicker: could I possibly mail them to her house...well, alright honey, I'll get right on that just as soon as I've detailed your car, shampooed your carpets, alphabetized your wardrobe and pleasured you orally. Because, you know, that's the level of dedicated customer service I'm committed to giving after all...sheesh, some people. Based on our exchange, I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume some sort of language/communication barrier, but I'm fairly sure no society on earth (with the possible exception of private libraries for extremely rich and/or powerful people) has libraries that do any of that. There is still some measure of resolve on your part to roll off your couch and at least come in to pick your stuff up. Well, actually I guess the Queen of England could possibly have her library books hand delivered to Buckingham or Windsor, she's got people for that.

An object lesson in assumptions...

The other day at work I innocently assumed that we were keeping the exact same hours as we had during exam week. Now, had it occurred to me to actually check and verify the schedule, this would not have been such an issue. However, my assumptions were incorrect. We had in fact gone back to normal banker's hours, so to speak. Any change of this sort affects me a great deal as I close up in the evenings or afternoons, as the case may be. My contractual stipulations dictate a very tight leash on those hours, so when I come in and when I leave is more or less predetermined, I'm not getting any more than I am for showing up early. And this is indeed what my assumptions led me to do. I showed up two hours early to a lot of blank stares and puzzled looks. It was like one of those dreams where you show up to work or class naked. All the furrowed brows immediately tipped off my razor sharp mind that something (ominous music cue) was amiss!!! So yes folks, what your mother told you about assumptions is true. I felt like more than enough of an ass for you and me combined, especially since it was not that hard to check. Hmm, come to think of it, I should do so again this morning just to be sure...much as I love napping in the lounge, I'd probably be better served doing some more or less productive things, such as making blog entries. I think enough of interest does go on every day that I could have some thoughts on a daily basis. It's just a question of mustering up the will and the motivation. If nothing else, it will pass the time adequately, not that I don't have enough to handily occupy myself with for months, notwithstanding human contact at all. One of the worst developments of recent times is television on DVD. Now I can view an entire season of whatever comes to mind as an unbroken, seamless narrative. In most cases, that's a LOT of TV. But I feel compelled to go on for some reason...

The bullseye

Yesterday was one of our periodic team building days at work. What that pretty much entails is closing down the library for the entirety of the morning and running out back to the day camp to roast marshmallows, climb trees, etc. This year we came to the rather interesting group consensus of the group swing and archery. I must admit that upon first seeing the group swing I was a little unnerved as it is high...around 35 feet high at it maximum apex. See, it requires other people to hoist you up to whatever height you desire (to that maximum of course) at which point you take a deep breath, nervously eye the carabiners and ropes and trust in their reputed strength (a couple of school buses I am told), and then pull the catch and release yourself (as the final insult in case you do die, I suppose). What happens next is a very interactive physics lesson as you swing around like a horrified pendulum and the earth rushes towards you. Centripetal force takes over at some point and you start spinning in a circle with the rhythm of the earth, and it's actually quite soothing. I suppose I liked it, although I don't think it's something I feel the need to repeat on, say, a daily basis. At least I threw my hat in the ring, as not everyone actually tried this experience.
Next came some archery. Now, I would like to take a moment to express my respect for various famous archers of the past, both real and fictitious: William Tell, Robin Hood, Green Arrow, Hawkeye, all English/Welsh longbowmen circa Hundred Years' War period, and every single one of the Khan's (Genghis, Kublai, Ogadai, it's all good) Mongol horse archers. I have a deep and newfound respect for what they all do (or did) naturally on a daily basis as effortlessly as breathing. I am, alas, not as skilled as they are/were. This is understandable as a properly trained archer practiced daily for hours...from a very young age...with progressively larger bows as they matured. On the occasion that we happen to unearth their remains their skeletons have markedly more developed bones in their drawing arms, that is the measure of their resolve. They worked that side out to the extent that one arm was noticeably larger than the other. Think about that. Now that having been said, I am nowhere near that good, obviously. But I never missed or overshot the target, fortunately, although I didn't pop any balloons...oh well. I cannot fathom the amount of dedication required to hit such targets whilst moving, much less on rapidly galloping horseback. So I salute them.

Be vewy, vewy quiet, it's a library...

This week is finals week at my workplace, with all the chaos, wailing, and gnashing of teeth that implies. Here's a news flash, kiddo: unless you have the power to dilate time, you ain't squeezing everything you should know by now into eight hours at the library. It just ain't happening, son, I'm sorry. I've seen people trying to squeeze a whole semester's worth of videos into two class periods, and I can do little else but laugh. Openly. I've seen the exact moment of realization dawn on some poor fool's face when it finally clicks: "Hmm...maybe I'm not cut out to be a nurse/social worker/commercial landscaper/fill in your choice of vocation here." You can actually see their soul shrivel up and die as they next realize how much time and money they've been wasting. Then they get all contemplative, and you just know it would only take a little nudge to push them over the edge. My oh my, kids these days. The tutoring service is jumping like it never has all year, and while they are very good at what they do, sadly they're not miracle workers. They can only work with what they have, and sometimes it isn't that much, you know? How about we work on basic grammar or cutting and pasting documents, and leave surgical nursing for another day, whaddya say? But I suppose it's like a child's fingerpaintings in that it's rude to openly point out the deficiencies in public. The really amusing part is that all of a sudden we're trying to maintain a quiet study environment. All throughout the year so far: food and drink, cellphones, interpretative poetry jam sessions, orgies of destruction, anything goes. Now? Shh, not a sound. It must be really jarring for them, I think. What really gets me is that we ourselves are responsible for the loose tolerances. We can't very well tell someone not to eat in the library when we ourselves are chugging back the Tim Horton's and what have you in their faces. So, for the sake of some people's caffeine slavery, we have to be fair and consistent in our application of policy, only it's in the other direction of the lowest common denominator. This is why I have to straighten up at the end of every day like it's grade two, lack of boundaries. Some people just can't seem to afford public space the same respect they would their homes. Or if they do, then I shudder to think of their homes. Oh well, that's okay, I get to watch your souls shrivel up and die. Rethink that law career, genius, I think they still have some openings for pack mules and stevedores if you hurry.

The following takes place between 2 and 3 pm...

Well, this has been a quiet long weekend so far, but I'm not complaining as it's certainly relaxing if nothing else. It's nice to mix it up some, break the comfortable rut of my job up a bit. I was actually the only one around last Thursday, as everyone else either took off early or came down with convenient illnesses like longweekenditis, I suppose. I just realized that I cut it pretty close on the drive in every day. It's an awesome feat of precision timing when you stop and think about it. If someone were to trip me, for example, that would just throw the whole day off and poof! I'd be late. It's like on 24, if Jack Bauer stops to use the bathroom or tie his shoe, oh snap! there goes Los Angeles.

The rhythm of the seasons

Anyone who knows me knows I spent a LOT of time in school. The long and short of it is I got sidetracked a few times for various reasons, as one distraction or another reared its insidious head. Some of these distractions were more pleasant than others (at least at the time), but that is neither here nor there. I DID eventually manage to matriculate more than once, and now I've got a neat little pile of credentials and a couple of degrees out of the deal. I might go back at some point, but I'm definitely all schooled out for the time being. Anyway, it recently occurred to me how easily your life can slip into a comfortable rhythm. Anyone who's still in college or university knows what I'm talking about. There's the big drive or flight out in September, whirlwinds of stress and activity until the next thing you know it's midterms with Thanksgiving in there somewhere, then Christmas vacation and New Year's with possibly another drive and/or flight (like, say...oh, to California for argument's sake). Then you come back and try to get back into the groove in time for spring break, and all of a sudden it's finals and summer when you start worrying about a job or other gainful activity to tide you over until it's time to start over again (let's say...herding goats or heck, keeping bees). Rinse and repeat, hopefully not longer than four years. Now that I'm on the other side of the desk as part of the faculty/staff, it's funny how these once-familiar rhythms are no longer meaningful to me. We stay open during breaks, such as the reading week we just had last week, so the sameness of days is striking to me. I mean, there's days with less people and days with more people, but regardless I'm there as a constant fixture like the furniture or potted plants. We also have summer school, so I'm kind of stuck there too. The hours we keep may change, but I'm still kind of tied down. I've tried to look ahead into the immediate future, and I can't imagine when I'll get to take a proper vacation again. On the plus side, I have a solid three day weekend every week. As soon as I get off work on Thursday evenings, I could disappear off the face of the earth until the next Monday afternoon. That's not so bad, I guess.

On the resolutions of conflict...

I am extremely tired as I write this, as I've had a couple of really long days lately. We've had this mandatory conflict resolution training at work, so I've had to go to that in the mornings and still go to work later on. On top of that, the training was at the main campus quite a ways from our cozy little satellite campus, so it's been a commute and a half. (Only to endure a two hour staff meeting, but thankfully we keep it pretty informal...I love those people) I found that it was mostly common sense stuff that we all know, but of course in the heat of the moment under pressure it all goes out the window. So I suppose it's good to review that stuff. We also got some really nice official-looking diploma certificates for "graduating", so that's always a plus. That, and I can always de-escalate anxious behaviour with my supportive, nonjudgmental stance, among other things. Just another weapon in the arsenal, baby...

More images

As you can see, we also have the awesome responsibility to rotate through the tedious but necessary job of circulation. At its heart, circulation is all about charging and discharging; making sure we know who has what books, where those books are at any given moment, and more importantly when they should be back. It's a fast-paced, dynamic environment where split-second decisions can mean the difference between life and death.
Okay, so it's not quite as glamourous as all that, but it is one of those things that needs to get done on a daily basis. Thankfully, I don't do too much of this, as this is by far where the lion's share of complaints come from. Everyone needs to remember that you CANNOT GRADUATE with outstanding fees and/or fines. So if you owe me, you ain't marching anywhere except straight to the nearest unemployment office. IN OTHER WORDS, I am the final arbiter of your academic future (and thus by extension of your future in general). So be nice to me, okay? I don't bite.

Images in the sand

You know, the other day I realized with a start that I do not have any recent pictures of myself. I could drop off of the face of the earth tomorrow and my loved ones would be hard pressed to find a recent image for the search parties and scent dogs to use. Well, I guess the scent dogs wouldn't really find a picture all that useful after all, but you know what I mean. I was trying to find some nice ones to post on my various blogs and found a large void running through about 2003 where it's as if I don't exist anymore, at least in a pictorial form. That's understandable as it's a safe bet that I wasn't alone in most of those pictures and for various reasons they contained memories best left buried and forgotten. Quite literally, as I'm fairly sure they're Michigan landfill by now.
Anyway, here's me recently on a typical day at work, making the world a better place for reference. You see, that's what I am, the night reference technician. I answer all sorts of compelling questions running the gamut from simple directional (bathroom's down the hall on your right, or left depending on your personal plumbing) to high-order, third-tier reference that require a LOT of deep analysis and interpretation. "I need books." Oookay. Where to proceed from here? By the way, that's a serious question I get almost every day. I say it like I'm kidding, but there are a lot of people who just don't have the first clue where to begin with the resources available to them. The effective reference interview is as much art as it is science, because digging what they REALLY want (vs. what they told you) out of their skull is like pulling teeth sometimes. I have a whole lot more patience for this than some of my colleagues, but I suppose I haven't been doing this long enough. It does get tedious sometimes, especially with people that don't really want to do the work and would rather have you spoonfeed them and hold their hand the whole way. But so far I'm still naive enough to believe that's it worth it.

Um, you're going to stick that in which end now?

So, amusing work anecdote time. It's been very busy of late, what with some major assignments coming due for these people. Unfortunately, some of them don't really want to do the work required and would like nothing better than for you to do it all for them. I, of course, am wise to their wiles and try to avoid this trap whenever possible. So one person (who thankfully for their sake shall remain unidentified) is sitting there trying to do some research for a nursing project, which mainly consisted of chatting on their cell phone and holding loud conversations across the library. But I digress.
They did look genuinely lost, and I dutifully fulfilled my mandate to provide service in such event. To set the scene, there's two bright, glowing hyperlinks on the screen to the effect of Elimination(Bowels) and Elimination(Bladder). Aren't these nursing projects fun? So this person says they're at a loss here, don't know where to go, they need some material on the urinary tract. Now, admittedly, I'm just a layman in this subject area, but I say well, the urinary tract just maybe might have something to do with the bladder, yes? The light dawned in their face like this was the greatest revelation, you'd think I'd just deciphered the Da Vinci Code for them. Well, I never knew that, says someone whose ambitions are to possibly nurse me when I'm old. So where were you planning on sticking that now? Bladder? Bowels? IT'S A VERY IMPORTANT DISTINCTION!!! Chilling, I know...

Every king needs a castle...

You know, the college where I work is quite an unusual place. It's a branch campus that is a bit out of the way, to put it mildly. Not exactly the middle of nowhere, but close enough that you might start to wonder. For example, when you drive up there, it's just as you start to get that nagging twitch in the back of your mind telling you that you must have missed the turn that boom! there it'll be on your left. Anyway, it seems to have attracted a number of the more eclectic programs for whatever reason. There's a farm setup where the vet techs get to practice their trade. There's a big dive tank where the underwater skills people can bob around and hopefully avoid the bends as they weld hull breaches or whatever it is they do down there. There's even a mock crime scene and mock courtroom for the police foundations and investigations people. I know, I know, that sounds cool, but I'm sure it is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING like CSI in any way, shape, or form. I'm even told they used to bury cadavers out in the fields for forensics people to find in some macabre final exam. What, I wonder, happens if you find some body they DIDN'T put there? As I say, some interesting vocations...it's just too bad access to most of these places is strictly controlled for various really important reasons. After all, I might like to try a stint of forensic anthropology; just imagine how that would sound at dinner. "What do you do?" "Baby...CSI...C...S...I!!!" Well, around here I think it's CSU actually, but I'm splitting hairs.