This won’t be too long, cuz I’m tired (you’ll see why, shortly), but I’m feeling like I ought to write at least a little something, because I just lectured a crowded room about the importance of maintaining one’s blog regularly. I lectured the same crowd about not maintaining a boring blog.
“No one wants to hear the details of your day,” I explained.
Here are the details of my day:
7:15 or so a.m.: I woke up following a fierce battle of wills with the alarm clock. My natural inclination toward sloth, combined with the chilly air, the comfy blankie, and the purring kitties, was making a keen argument in favor of staying in bed all day. The alarm clock kept interrupting me, though. Normally I can endure the alarm, because I have it set to a classical station, instead of that godawful alarm-clock blare. Unfortunately this turned out to be the first day of the station’s biannual pledge drive. I finally decided it would be better to get up than to listen to radio announcers asking for my money.
8:30 a.m.: “Hmm,” I said. “It’s only another ten and a half hours till I give my presentation this evening. I should really, really get to work on that.” So I promptly plunged into a project that had nothing, whatsoever, to do with the evening’s looming presentation.
Couldn’t help myself. I have just the week started to recatalog the library’s graphic novels, and already I am allowing everything else to suffer. I’m sorry, but none of my other library duties are anywhere near as fun.
The very sad thing is, I’m not joking about this.
See, ever since grad school, graphic novels have been of professional, scholarly, and personal interest to me. I like reading them. I like writing about them. And God help me, I like helping people find them.
The Dewey Decimal system, of which I am no big fan, calls for graphic novels to be shelved in 741.5. In other words, they’re all hidden away in the middle of nonfiction somewhere.
Seems a lot more sensible to shelve them someplace more accessible. And, hooray! We’re moving them from their hiding spot to a high-traffic area. But it’s more than that: we’re changing the spine labels so that they don’t say 741.5. Now the call numbers will indicate that the books are graphic fiction or graphic nonfiction, and furthermore-this is the really exciting part-they’ll indicate the title and/or series and/or main character.
Do you see how cool this is? All of the Batman books will now live next to each other, no matter who wrote them, or illustrated them, or lettered them, or whatever.
Long story short, the graphic novels will now be far more browsable. No fancy catalog searching will be required to find a particular book.
Recataloging a few thousand books is going to take some time, though, which is why I’m champing at the bit to work on them-that, and I’m just excited about the project.
This is my lame excuse for procrastinating on the evening’s presentation, along with the state library conference.
12:00: The conference was held in town this year, so it only took me a few minutes to get over there. I talked with vendors. I attended some sessions. Then I talked with Daisy.
Daisy is a pig, at the conference along with her owner, a guy who, apparently, drives Daisy to hospitals, convalescent homes, libraries, and places like that, for the purpose of… y’know, I’m not really sure what Daisy does. I suppose I should have asked questions, but I was too busy cooing at my new friend.
Daisy is a black pig of stately proportions. She is black, and bristly, and from what I could tell, she spends all her time sleeping. She’s sort of like my cat Bubby, only huge.
It was love at first sight. And second sight. And third sight. I kept finding excuses to go back and pet her, to the point where the owner began to greet me by name every time I wandered over.
I also saw several former coworkers, along with one former classmate. It was a bit startling to realize that he knew how I’d been doing, on account of his reading this blog here.
“Really? You read my blog?”
“Yeah, sometimes,” he said. “Though mainly the parts I remember have to do with lingerie.”
Ah. So perhaps there’s a reason NOT to blog about one’s bra troubles, after all. It’s rather a shock to realize that my grad school classmate, in all likelihood, knows my bra size.
“Er,” I said, trying, and failing, not to blush. “Guess that’s the part that sticks out.”
At which point the former classmate guffawed. And then… yeah, about a second after that, I realized what I’d said.
Fortunately, I was able to gracefully excuse myself, on account of needing to prepare for the evening’s presentation. Good thing I hadn’t finished it earlier, huh?
5:30: “Okay, I really, REALLY need to finish preparing for the presentation that begins at seven.”
5:32: “Man, I could go for some coffee.”
5:45: “Argh, look at all this conference crap! May as well sort through this junk, see what I can recycle.”
5:51, or thereabouts: I started really digging in to preparing for the presentation. The topic was to be on blogs, and how to maintain them.
6:57: Saved presentation to thumb drive.
6:58: Printed handout.
6:59: Made copies of handout.
7:00: Cool as a cucumber, strolled down to the meeting room.
8:35: Finally wrapped up what was supposed to be an hour-long presentation. The audience members were great, really interested in the topic. They asked a ton of good questions, so the hour’s worth of material I had prepared turned into a discussion that could have gone all night. A few folks did leave around 8:00, but most stayed till the end.
9:00: Returned to conference site, to claim my glass of wine (free with conference registration! Yay!). Snooped around for vendors. Here’s the thing, with conferences: You’ve got to get chummy with a salesperson. It is to your benefit. Trust me on this. Flirt a little with an exhibitor, and you won’t have to pay for drinks all evening.
9:04: Found no exhibitors; therefore determined conference to have been a waste of time.
9:05: Returned home.
11:16: Ran out of things to say.