I got woken up this morning at 6 because I was having a dream where a classification scheme whose origins were shrouded in mystery was killing people that tried to use it. It may be that this is a sign that I am too immersed in library school and I should back away slowly, but I'd rather think of it as a psychological alarm clock reminding me to get up and finish my paper for today's cataloging class, wouldn't you?
I'm in this phase now - maybe we can call it a superhero complex - where I feel an almost limitless capacity to do anything you give me. Which means I keep taking on new ventures. Secretary of a student organization! bring it on. Why don't you add a graduate assistantship! And maybe an internship! And maybe some methamphetamines! I will admit, it's going to have to slow down eventually, and I'd like to think I know my limit, but it may be that my Type A personality is at the wheel and I'll only know my limit as it speeds by me and then I'll get a B.
Which is my worst fear, by the way. I guess before last year my worst fear was, I don't know, dying a horrible death before I ever bought a pair of Paige jeans, but now my fear is getting a B. Oh, I'm also afraid of the mouse that I think is in the empty pizza box in the kitchen, but we all know who's winning that fight (the mouse). Now I'm afraid of getting a B. And maybe this is making up for years of never really caring if I got a B (cf. high school and most of college) and I can't tell if I'm simply this committed to my new chosen field of study, or I'm just becoming aggressive in my old age, but I've got this shiny 4.0 average that I've never before been in possession of and I'm determined to keep it.
Just when it doesn't really matter, too! You can argue that a 4.0 in high school will get you into a decent university and a 4.0 in university will land you a good graduate program but what does a 4.0 in a graduate program get you? Tea and cookies with the Supreme Allied Commander of Librarianship? Who would that be, anyway?
So I've been working really hard on my classwork, but still in that Me way, where I schedule the time to complete an assignment around, let's say, the last 20% of time in which I can feasibly accomplish it. I see my upcoming week in these chunks of time that have labels like "work on HTML for 654" and "do research on Moys" and "finish the $@#@ minutes for that meeting already". Which is to say, I've gotten really realistic about how long it takes me to do things, so I rarely cock up and give myself too little time, but I'm always on the knife edge of turning out good work against a limited and shrinking clock. Like waking up today at 6am to finish a paper that's due this afternoon. A four-page paper, to be fair, but there's that 4.0 sitting on my night-table shrieking at me like a deranged academic fairy.
I'll tell you one thing for free, though, I'm not packing the deranged academic fairy for our trip next week to Puerto Rico. A few months back, Stuart and I realized we had a massive chunk of air miles from all his DC jaunts, and two big milestones in the fall: his 30th birthday and our 5th (!) wedding anniversary. So we started saving for some worthwhile trip, and that turned out to be two days in Vieques (swimming with the bioluminescent plankton!) and two days in El Yunque (our first rainforest!). I'm pretty proud of how we've scrimped and saved for the trip, not to mention my BITCHING spreadsheets, you want to see? Wait, you're surprised I went to library school? - where was I.
Oh yes. Beach. Rainforest. I'll tell you all about it when we get back, promise. Until then, can someone babysit my fairy?
I'm in this phase now - maybe we can call it a superhero complex - where I feel an almost limitless capacity to do anything you give me. Which means I keep taking on new ventures. Secretary of a student organization! bring it on. Why don't you add a graduate assistantship! And maybe an internship! And maybe some methamphetamines! I will admit, it's going to have to slow down eventually, and I'd like to think I know my limit, but it may be that my Type A personality is at the wheel and I'll only know my limit as it speeds by me and then I'll get a B.
Which is my worst fear, by the way. I guess before last year my worst fear was, I don't know, dying a horrible death before I ever bought a pair of Paige jeans, but now my fear is getting a B. Oh, I'm also afraid of the mouse that I think is in the empty pizza box in the kitchen, but we all know who's winning that fight (the mouse). Now I'm afraid of getting a B. And maybe this is making up for years of never really caring if I got a B (cf. high school and most of college) and I can't tell if I'm simply this committed to my new chosen field of study, or I'm just becoming aggressive in my old age, but I've got this shiny 4.0 average that I've never before been in possession of and I'm determined to keep it.
Just when it doesn't really matter, too! You can argue that a 4.0 in high school will get you into a decent university and a 4.0 in university will land you a good graduate program but what does a 4.0 in a graduate program get you? Tea and cookies with the Supreme Allied Commander of Librarianship? Who would that be, anyway?
So I've been working really hard on my classwork, but still in that Me way, where I schedule the time to complete an assignment around, let's say, the last 20% of time in which I can feasibly accomplish it. I see my upcoming week in these chunks of time that have labels like "work on HTML for 654" and "do research on Moys" and "finish the $@#@ minutes for that meeting already". Which is to say, I've gotten really realistic about how long it takes me to do things, so I rarely cock up and give myself too little time, but I'm always on the knife edge of turning out good work against a limited and shrinking clock. Like waking up today at 6am to finish a paper that's due this afternoon. A four-page paper, to be fair, but there's that 4.0 sitting on my night-table shrieking at me like a deranged academic fairy.
I'll tell you one thing for free, though, I'm not packing the deranged academic fairy for our trip next week to Puerto Rico. A few months back, Stuart and I realized we had a massive chunk of air miles from all his DC jaunts, and two big milestones in the fall: his 30th birthday and our 5th (!) wedding anniversary. So we started saving for some worthwhile trip, and that turned out to be two days in Vieques (swimming with the bioluminescent plankton!) and two days in El Yunque (our first rainforest!). I'm pretty proud of how we've scrimped and saved for the trip, not to mention my BITCHING spreadsheets, you want to see? Wait, you're surprised I went to library school? - where was I.
Oh yes. Beach. Rainforest. I'll tell you all about it when we get back, promise. Until then, can someone babysit my fairy?
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