The first full week of classes is winding down, and I’ve been answering what feels like a staggering amount of reference questions.
Like Judd, I just finished Hunger Games, and found it to be excellent. It was also my first Kindle book (read on the iPad app), a format that I found much more enjoyable than I’d anticipated. Now I’m working through a (physical) book of Clark Ashton Smith’s Zothique stories, with breaks of rereading Harry Connolly’s Child of Fire on the Kindle app. (Follow the link; it’s only $0.99 in that format, so if you’re Kindle-y inclined and into modern supernatural horror with lots of action you should snag it. )
Right now I’m trying to think about what I’ll be doing with my time once I finish the writing described below. I think my top priority will be putting up a user survey in DigitalCommons@ILR. I need a couple more folks to give me feedback on what I’ve put together, and then submit my waiver application to the human studies folks. (Because I don’t think they’ll believe me if I claim that we’d assumed the repository was mainly used by voles.) I’m also starting to match grant opportunities with potential projects, in an extremely preliminary sense.
I’m co-authoring a book chapter for a guide to being a digital librarian, and we’re trying to get our rough draft in next week. It’s been going well, but there’s still quite a bit left to do. I’ve really enjoyed it, overall; aside from the Digital Projects Assessment I wrote earlier this year, it’s the most writing I’ve done since graduating. That being said, yesterday’s Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal comic did make me cackle at my own expense, which is an experience I highly recommend.
At around noon on Friday, July 24th, 2009, something really cool happened: I finished my last class as a library student. The nice pieces of paper with “Master of Science in Library and Information Science” and “Certificate of Advanced Studies in Digital Libraries” won’t show up for a while, but barring unforeseen calamity I am done with library school.
It’s a major milestone in the path I’ve chosen for my life, and it’s sort of mindblowing that my answer to the question, “Are you a librarian?” just changed from “Not yet” to “Kinda!” The progress serves as some validation: if I’d decided to go to law school, I’d probably be wrapping up my seventh year of practice by now. If I’d decided to be a professional policy wonk, I’d likely be giving myself an ulcer working 100 hour weeks to get some traction with the new administration. If I’d decided to keep making sandwiches, I’d almost certainly be exploring the experimental reaches of concept sandwiches — like concept albums, but delectable:
“Hey man, can I get a Silmarillion, hold the avocado?”
“Are you mad? The avocado represents Fingolfin’s brave yet futile stand against Morgoth before the fell gates of Angband itself!”
“Great, but… I don’t like avocado.”
“I think you should probably leave.”
…yeah. Librarian was definitely the way to go.
This illustrates why I probably shouldn’t keep writing at night after I start to get punchy:
“Know, O prince, that between the years when the undergrads drank Zima and nasty box-wine, and in the years of the rise of the collars on fratboys’ pastel polo shirts, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining graduate programs lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars — Ithaca College, Cortland, Cornell with her gold-tongued lies of instruction in any study, Binghamton with her WalMart-haunted depths. But the proudest graduate program was Syracuse, reigning supreme in the dreaming fields of information science. Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, laptop in hand, a thief, a slayer, a library paraprofessional, with gigantic melancholies, gigantic mirth, and ever-more-gigantic student loan balances, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet.”
It’s a good thing my semester’s almost over. And thanks, Judd, for getting me riffing on Conan. :)
Personal confession time: I dodged law school at least in part because of a lack of enthusiasm for case law. But I might have changed my mind if more judges emulated Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts’ brief foray into Hammett-esque noir:
Officer Sean Devlin, Narcotics Strike Force, was working the morning shift. Undercover surveillance. The neighborhood? Tough as a three dollar steak. Devlin knew. Five years on the beat, nine months with the Strike Force. He’d made fifteen, twenty drug busts in the neighborhood.
Devlin spotted him: a lone man on the corner. Another approached. Quick exchange of words. Cash handed over; small objects handed back. Each man then quickly on his own way. Devlin knew the guy wasn’t buying bus tokens. He radioed a description and Officer Stein picked up the buyer. Sure enough: three bags of crack in the guy’s pocket. Head downtown and book him. Just another day at the office.
Yes, that’s an honest-to-Chandler quote from an otherwise normal dissent from denial to review issued by the court with regards to Pennsylvania v. Dunlap, a rather run of the mill drug case. Check out the full story at the LegalTimes blog.
Apparently some members of the court aren’t satisfied with merely coming to nonsensical decisions that abridge basic human rights; they’re gonna subject us to their derivative writing efforts along the way. Which, I’ll grant, is sort of a hoot.