Workshops.
Does that word evoke excitement or terror for you? I have to go to one tomor- well, later today. It's about games (video and RPG, I think?), none of which we have at the library but apparently somebody thinks we should have. That somebody is sending me.
I'd rather be going to the Facebook workshop, but it wasn't available by the time I signed up.
Of course, because it's St. Paddy's Day, I have to run from the workshop to go cover some regular at the bookstore who will be getting shi- I mean, shamrock-faced while I'm most likely padding around an empty store. Can't complain; it's money.
But man, am I tired. I probably shouldn't even be typing right now because I have to go make up the bed completely--the cat, like that one partying dorm-mate everyone has to look after but is fine once she hurls, had quite a time of it this morning. I don't have a washer, so I had to take it over to my parents' before heading to the library. Being in the library seemed to emphasize how tired I was.
Nothing seemed to be going right--and you should've heard this one patron lay into someone with the drama on her cell phone in the ladies room (it echoed all over the place)--and capping it off was a bright, chatty middle schooler who wanted books but couldn't explain what she wanted to read. I still don't know the collection that well, and I tried to work with her. . . in the end, I just let her talk and browse, and eventually she picked out what she wanted--which was exactly the stuff she'd told me she didn't want. I love that age.
At first, I was annoyed with myself for not being able to come up with the books she wanted. But then I thought about it and decided that just talking books--really, just talking--was what she really wanted and needed. I think she was reeling from the shock that we'd taken all the YA materials and put them in a more accessible space, set up just for her and her peers. Hopefully I helped her get better acquainted with the space, and also hopefully she started feeling comfortable enough to talk to me and will keep coming back to talk. Maybe it was less of a failure than it felt like.
I dunno, sometimes I think Lent is one big workshop, and it's what you make of it. Last fall, you may recall I went to a training with Dr. Red. Sure, we horsed around a bit, but we kept our ears open for what we could use. Sometimes Lent is like that, too--you wander for a bit, but every now and then you pick up something that just feeds your spirit and reminds you what you're here to do.
I'd rather be going to the Facebook workshop, but it wasn't available by the time I signed up.
Of course, because it's St. Paddy's Day, I have to run from the workshop to go cover some regular at the bookstore who will be getting shi- I mean, shamrock-faced while I'm most likely padding around an empty store. Can't complain; it's money.
But man, am I tired. I probably shouldn't even be typing right now because I have to go make up the bed completely--the cat, like that one partying dorm-mate everyone has to look after but is fine once she hurls, had quite a time of it this morning. I don't have a washer, so I had to take it over to my parents' before heading to the library. Being in the library seemed to emphasize how tired I was.
Nothing seemed to be going right--and you should've heard this one patron lay into someone with the drama on her cell phone in the ladies room (it echoed all over the place)--and capping it off was a bright, chatty middle schooler who wanted books but couldn't explain what she wanted to read. I still don't know the collection that well, and I tried to work with her. . . in the end, I just let her talk and browse, and eventually she picked out what she wanted--which was exactly the stuff she'd told me she didn't want. I love that age.
At first, I was annoyed with myself for not being able to come up with the books she wanted. But then I thought about it and decided that just talking books--really, just talking--was what she really wanted and needed. I think she was reeling from the shock that we'd taken all the YA materials and put them in a more accessible space, set up just for her and her peers. Hopefully I helped her get better acquainted with the space, and also hopefully she started feeling comfortable enough to talk to me and will keep coming back to talk. Maybe it was less of a failure than it felt like.
I dunno, sometimes I think Lent is one big workshop, and it's what you make of it. Last fall, you may recall I went to a training with Dr. Red. Sure, we horsed around a bit, but we kept our ears open for what we could use. Sometimes Lent is like that, too--you wander for a bit, but every now and then you pick up something that just feeds your spirit and reminds you what you're here to do.
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