Favorite Albums of the Year

There is no better way to start the new year then to think about what was good about last year. In no order here are my favorite albums of the year.

Neon Bible (Arcade Fire)
I liked this album a lot more before William Butler, the bassist, flirted with my fiance before a concert at the Greek.

Once Soundtrack
I knew nothing about the Frames when I saw once, so this was kind of like the surprise of the year for me. I haven't heard a performer with so much emotion in his voice in quite some time. When he signs about loving someone, I actually sort of believe him.

Because of the Times (Kings of Leon)
I saw these guys open for Dylan at the Forum, and I thought they sounded like crap; they played some stuff from this record that hadn't been released, and I wanted to vomit. What a year did for these guys, because when they finally did cut it on a record it sounded awesome! This is what good old fashion rock and roll should be!

Sing Song (Little Ones)
It's a 2006 disc, but it's new to me. I didn't expect much from this band when I saw them open for the Cold War Kids at a 826 benefit concert at Spaceland. I dare say they stole the show, and gave a performance that was incredible. This is a short disc; I can't wait to see what they do on a longer record.

Icky Thump (White Stripes)
I would have liked this CD a whole lot more if I had been given the chance to see them perform it live, but, alas, Meg had to be allegedly sick, and the tour was cancelled. Still this band and this record remain on my list if, for nothing else, the bagpipes on St. Andrew!

Greatest Hits - Day Ten

Hope this year is a great one for you! Here's some library confessions to ring in your new year. (From: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/librarian/26ScottDouglas.html). Forgive me for polluting your eyes with nothing but repeated information for over a week. I promise I'll be back with original comments and observations shortly.

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Librarian Confessions
When I tell patrons to lower their voice in the library, I like to say it in a loud voice.

I tell patrons the library is closing in five minutes even though it's closing in ten minutes, just to make them think it's closing so they'll check out their books.

Sometimes I tell parents that their child's library card is showing a fine of $57.20 when it is actually showing a fine of 20 cents. After their eyes widen, I tell them I was just kidding.

I like to make up stories about people who work at the library. One day, for instance, two young boys were looking for books on wrestlers; I pointed to the man shelving books and said they should talk to him because he is a former pro wrestler. They spent 10 minutes asking him about various wrestlers he had beaten, even though he repeatedly denied that he was a pro wrestler.

When a patron asks what we do with the money we collect from fines, I tell them it's a Christmas slush fund and at the end of the year we buy each other presents.

When a kid asks for the fourth Harry Potter book, I tend to say, "Is that the one where Harry dies? Oh wait, no, that's in the fifth one—my bad."

When the fifth Harry Potter book arrived at the library before it was scheduled to be released to the public, I opened it up and read the first sentence just because I knew I wasn't supposed to.

I am frequently nicer to female patrons than to male patrons.

Sometimes I act like I don't know very much about computers just so I won't have to help a patron on the computer.

When a kid comes to the reference desk and asks, "Where are the books on dinosaurs?," I frequently will point very broadly at the rows of bookshelves and say, "Over there."

In the break room, I frequently complain to other workers about patrons who smell funny.

Greatest Hits - Day Nine

Yet another tale of a man who wanted nothing more then to beat me up. (From: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/librarian/3generator.html)

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I think the first clue that the man was going to be a problem was when he said to me, "I want to know who took my generator—was it you?" This was actually the first thing he said to me. It wasn't just what he said or even the hostile way that he said it that made me know that this was going to be one of the conversations they didn't teach you how to handle in library school—it was everything about him. The way he moved, or rather fidgeted, told me right away that he had had the sort of breakfast that destroys brain cells.


I had never seen the man, but I knew right away who he was. The previous night we'd discovered that some people had been stashing their belongings behind the air-conditioning unit in back of the library. A polite note was left saying that if they didn't remove the items, the library would have to remove them for them. It was nothing personal—for liability reasons, people just can't do this.


I checked the back of the library to make sure everything was gone—it was—so I figured the problem had been solved.


It hadn't.


"It isn't right—that generator cost me 300 bucks, and someone is going to pay."


I apologized to the man and explained, "The library can't be responsible for belongings left behind."


The man became more agitated. "Then you know—you know where it was hidden. It was you. You took my generator."


I shook my head no and explained, "I saw it last night, and know a note was left for its owner to remove it from the property."


The man's eyes got bigger. He crossed his arms and nodded a bit psychotically, "I know your kind—don't think I don't. You think just because you have a job you can take from me." He paused and continued in a threatening way, "You're either going to give me back my generator or pay me. Otherwise, I'll call the police."


Even if the man had not appeared to be on drugs, I think I still would have been a little nervous—he wasn't bigger than me, but his appearance suggested the sort of man who liked to keep a knife in his pocket. Still, I did my best to hide any fear, and calmly explained, "Sir, I assure you that I did not take your generator. Maybe you should call the police and report it as stolen." I knew that he wouldn't call them, but I could always hope.


"Oh, don't think that I won't." He paused, then asked, insanely curious, "Where is your car parked?"


Plenty of patrons had asked me strange things, but this was the first who asked me where my car was parked. It was almost comical to look at the man, because he actually thought I was going to tell him. I struggled to come up with a reply, but the best I could muster was, "That's personal." What I meant to say was, "Sir, the fact that I work in a public library doesn't make me stupid, it just makes me poor. There's no way I'm going to tell you—a psychotic person who could very well have a knife in his pocket—where I have parked my car."


The man stood straighter, and actually, in his straightness, began to look even crazier. "It's in the parking lot, isn't it?"


So now the man thinks he's Sherlock Holmes, I thought, amused. A car parked in a parking lot—who would have ever guessed!


I didn't answer his question, which apparently was the answer the man was looking for. "I knew it—I'll find it. Don't think that I won't. And I bet that generator's in the trunk."


He left the library, but didn't leave the premises. I sent a co-worker out a few minutes later, who told me he was riding a bike in circles around the parking lot.


I don't think he found his generator, but, lucky for me, he got tired of looking for my car after two hours and left in time for me to go home.

Year End Review

Greetings! Forgive me for a weeks worth of reruns! There are just a few more! I'll be back on with some original ideas January 2nd (starting with my favorite books, music, movies, and TV shows of the year...no better way to start off 2008 then telling you what I liked about 2007!)

So see you real soon. Don't party too hard!

Greatest Hits - Day Eight

I'm still asked for this advice today, so apparently people who write me because they read my dispatches have not actually read them! (From: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/librarian/6gradschooladvice.html)

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Advice to Future LibrariansEntering Graduate School
Fall is here, which means a new batch of young wannabe librarians will be starting graduate school in just a few days. If you happen to be starting library school, then this dispatch is for you.

Avoid cataloging classes; they will be pointless.

In papers that you write, cite papers your professors have published.

Take an internship or practicum.

Ninety percent of what your teachers teach you is theory that does you no good in the workplace; do your best to forget it after you leave school.

Ask your teacher why a public library uses the Dewey cataloging system as opposed to LOC, then doodle for the next three hours while they explain it.

Buy a laptop and play FreeCell during lectures.

Join ALA. It will make you feel important.

Libraries don't do, librarians do.

Take online classes and have the cheap thrill of going to classes in the buff.

Two weeks working in a library will give you more experience than two years in graduate school.

Gain as much computer knowledge as humanly possible—this will put you ahead of so many other librarians.

Letters to the editor do not count as professional publications and will not impress the instructor.

I am sorry to say that you may find your stay in graduate school to be not very stimulating and quite a yawn, but the job that follows is quite the contrary.

If you ever want to vent your frustrations or need moral support, then by all means e-mail me.

Greatest Hits - Day Seven

I haven't see this lady in some time, though I here she is still alive and well. (From: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/librarian/16oldlady.html)

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Choose Your Battles Wisely
Old-lady patrons add a unique flavor (and smell) to the library. For the most part, they're either warm and fuzzy or bitter and rude. Either way, it's fun to listen to their rambling theories about life, happiness, and why everyone should read Dick Francis. Libraries, however, wouldn't be quite right if there weren't at least one woman who was loud, crude, and sometimes a little drunk. For me there is Ms. Haskell. I can think of several older patrons I get a kick out of, but I knew Ms. Haskell was special the first day I met her; she asked for the dictionary ... on audiotape. Not an abridged version, or a "500 Power Words Everyone Should Know"—not even a collegiate dictionary would do. She had it all scribbled out on a stained napkin, which she proudly dangled in front of my eyes: "OED Dictionary on audiotape." When I said no, we did not have that, she said, "Well, compact disc will have to do then." That was my first encounter with her, and all the encounters that followed were also about audiotapes. One night, she came in loudly and spent 10 minutes at the circulation desk telling a helpless library clerk what she thought of each of the seven audio books she was returning. When the clerk explained that the library was closed and she would have to leave, she turned toward the audio books to make that night's selection. I saw where she was going and intercepted her. "The library is closed, Ms. Haskell—you'll have to come back tomorrow." She kept on coming, and said, "Out of my way, honey." She then shoved me out of her way. "I'll be just a second," she said. I think I was more surprised by her strength than the fact that she pushed me. "Did she just push you?" a page quietly asked. "I think she did," I admitted. "Dude, what are you going to do?" I didn't reply. I stared at Ms. Haskell, who had made her selection. "See, honey, that didn't take but a second." I could have forced her to come back and check out the next day, but she would have argued that idea longer than I cared to listen. In a public place like a library, you have to choose your battles wisely. Plus, I was kind of afraid she might push me again and I'd have to fill out an incident report saying a 70-year-old woman physically assaulted me.

Greatest Hits - Day Six

I kind of miss seeing this kid around.
(From: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/librarian/8jeffica.html)

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Jeffica
Giving nicknames to problem patrons is one way to provide humor on the job. It also establishes handy covertlike code-names for people should problems persist. I have nicknamed many patrons over the years—the Red-Faced Man, Mumbles, the Mole, and Potty Mouth, just to name a few. Recently, I developed a new nickname for a patron: Jeffica. Jeffica has a long history with the library. About four years ago, there was a patron named Jeff. He fit perfectly into the she-male category of the human species (which is the category for a person whose appearance could easily be passed off as either male or female; it was made popular by SNL's "It's Pat" skit). Jeff would come to the library two or three times a week and spend hours at a table poring over books. He was usually quiet but would occasionally harass librarians over things like having only one book of poetry by John Donne. Then one day he stopped coming. I didn't realize it immediately; it was several weeks until somebody said, "Say, I haven't see that one guy in a while." After a brief discussion on who "that one guy" was, I realized it was Jeff, and indeed it had been a while. I didn't see Jeff for four years, but last week he started coming in again. There are some patrons you never forget—Jeff is one of them. He had the same routine: he would pore over books for hours at a time, and at one point he complained to me that we didn't have a single book by Ben Jonson. Toward the end of the week, he applied for a new library card because his old one had expired due to lack of use. I was surprised when I read the application—under "Name" he wrote "Jessica." It was odd; he had the chest of Jeff, the voice of Jeff, even the same dress shoes that Jeff used to wear. There was no mistaking it: Jeff was now Jessica.