Urban Vancouver

Awhile back I wrote about my core values and beliefs, the ideology I was crafting to help shape what I wanted out of a career. I placed “having fun” and “loving what I do” at the top of my list because I’d spent far too much of my life in demoralizing environments where it seemed the people in charge were committed to sucking as much life out of the atmosphere as possible.

I ran across a piece at Library Journal that talks about “lightening up” our libraries in the face of budgetary shortfalls, staff cuts, and increased demand for services while operating on a diminishing budget. in it, Michael Stephens and Michael Casey argue that rather than becoming more serious in these serious times, libraries should become more fun. What makes a fun library? The authors write:

A “fun” library, our peers (on Twitter) have told us, depends on the tone established by administrators and also lets patrons who don’t necessarily come for reading still enjoy being in the building.

“When they’re laughing, they’re listening,” write Adrian Gostick, a lecturer and educator in strategic communication and leadership from Seton Hall University, NJ, and Scott Christopher, a humorist and columnist, in their recent book, The Levity Effect (Wiley). “Fun at work can provide a competitive advantage, help attract and retain employees, and provide the spark to jumpstart creativity.”

I can say with certainty (and relief!) that I work in an environment that encourages staff to be creative and to enjoy their time in service. Our yearly staff conference gives us the opportunity to share in a few more light-hearted pursuits (such as a Wii gaming tournament, or a ‘Secrets of the Library’ tour), and even though my time here has been short, I know that the support I receive from managers and peers makes me a more productive employee, and inspires a sense of stewardship that I’ve never felt anywhere else.

Being playful and creative puts us in touch with the side of ourselves that so many of us set aside when we’re told to “grow up” or to “act our age”. When our parents tell us it’s time to “get serious about our studies” or when they ask us repeatedly “what do you want to be when you grow up”, or “what kind of job are you going to get with a B.A. in English?” they unwittingly are setting us on a path that takes us away from the very skills we need to retain a sense of individuality and purpose when working in large organizations or in corporate environments.

Yet I’ve seen a shift in recent years, and I think people of my age group are at the forefront of this shift in organizational culture. We work hard for our companies (and for ourselves) but we also want to feel like we’re a part of something greater, that we’re all in this together, so we might as well try to work together to make our environments as enjoyable as possible. We work hard - but we play with a purpose.

What does your work environment do to encourage creativity and fun in its employees? Do you set aside time each day to do something fun at work?

The library teaches classes on digital cameras?”

That’s what one of the people who took part in my “Choosing a Digital Camera” seminar said was her first thought when she first saw the announcement. She wasn’t the only person to say that to me after the course ended.

The people who registered for the course shared the same goal: they were all interested in buying digital cameras. They wanted to be able to document and share their view of their world with friends and family members, but were afraid that the technical jargon used to market digital cameras to the masses was too hard for “simple folk” like themselves to understand.

Maybe it was the sight of a librarian speaking confidently about a technical subject in terms that they could easily relate to that made them feel more comfortable about asking questions that they’d never ask a salesperson at a big box store or camera shop. After all, librarians don’t want to sell them anything, we just want to provide them with enough information so that they feel certain that they can make an informed choice on their own.

When I opened the session, I used the analogy of sharks smelling blood in the water to describe a potential sales transaction at an electronics superstore. “I just want to keep you from feeling like shark food,” I told them, and I saw the lingering traces of apprehension leave their faces and bodies. I got the sense that they trusted me, that they understood that I only had their best interests at heart, and I wanted to make them feel better about what they did know, rather than to make them feel ashamed about what they didn’t.

I’d like to think that the participants walked away with more than the information to help them make a purchase they could feel good about. I’d like to think that they walked away with a different idea about libraries and library staff. I’d like to think that in my own small way, I left the with the impression that libraries can be pretty cool places.

By the way, the photo that accompanies this entry is of a paper orchid one of the participants gave me after the course to thank me for teaching the course. As a matter of fact, I did get a little teary eyed after it happened - why do you ask?

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I think I’ve outgrown the internet.

I realize that may sound shocking coming from someone who has spent the last thirteen-odd years of her life working on the web, with the web, and for the web, so maybe an explanation is in order.

I’m not tired of the technologies that make the web a more social place. I’ve made and nurtured many friendships and relationships that wouldn’t be possible without being connected. I even met my husband online. I can’t quite imagine what my life might’ve ended up like had I not spent an entire summer seeking refuge from Atlanta’s oppressive heat in Georgia State University’s air-conditioned computer center.

It’s the listmaking, the angling for position, the seemingly endless quest to be recognized as the definitive voice that worries me. It’s the recent discussions of social capital on the web — or “whuffie” that make me feel tired. In case you don’t know what whuffie is, Tara Hunt of HorsePigCow defines it this way:

The sum of the reputation, influence, bridging capital and bonding capital, access to ideas and talent, access to resources, potential access to further resources, saved up favors, accomplishments (resumes, awards, articles, etc.) and the Whuffie of those who you have relationships with.

In short, whuffie is mostly based on who you know, a bit on what you know, and how these connections elevate your standing and increase your personal, social (and in some cases, fiancial) capital.

The web is turning into one large gated community where, if you don’t have the right credentials (cred), you’ll always find yourself on the outside. This way of thinking is inherently exclusionary, and in my mind, flies in the face of the open spirit that used to exist in the early days of the web.

I don’t fault people for wanting to make a good living by parlaying their social connections into lucrative and/or influential appointments. Where this starts to break down for me is when I encounter the second, third, or tenth list of the “most influential” people/men/women/blacks/asians/one-legged jockeys on the web, and how people react when they see that their names have been left off such lists.

The reactions remind me of the jockeying for position that insecure high school students exhibit when they try desperately to craft a more socially acceptable image for thesmselves. It reminds me of fraternity/sorority life on college campuses where those who allowed to pledge are derided by those who wanted to pledge but were turned away at the door. And what’s worse is that it starts to resemble those tiresome and seemingly never-ending blog posts about “monetizing” the web and how you can blog your way to financial independence just by manipulating search engine rankings.

I don’t know if this is a factor of my rapidly advancing age and my increasing inability to suffer what I consider to be foolish behavior gladly, but this isn’t the social community I want to be a part of. I want to be part of a community where people are willing to share their expertise so that we all get better. I want to be part of a community that mimics that hoary old cliche about rising tides that lift all boats. I think this is why, now that I’m working in a library, I feel I’m finally surrounded by people who understand the benefit of the collective we, and how our societies — physical and virtual — are made stronger by nurturing a commonwealth of ideas where those who have access feel a sense of responsibility to those who don’t.

I want a more level playing field, not because I want more attention for myself (anyone who knows me can tell you that absolutely is not the case), but because I believe that as long as we’re so busy focusing on how to come out on top of our limited circles, we’re going to lose sight of our responsibility to and interconnectedness with each other.

I‘m in the process of freshening some of the training and professional development resources on our staff intranet. Seeing as how I spent the last four years working in IA/UX environments, these resources don’t really apply to the library. What are some of your favorite resources regarding staff training and professional development for library staff/information professionals?

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About two years ago, I somehow convinced myself that I really needed a pair of roller skates.

Not roller blades, mind you, but the old-style quad skates with a wheel in each corner. My fitness routine had gotten stuck, and I wasn’t able to run anymore because of a knee injury, so I somehow convinced myself that getting a pair of roller skates would not only be a fun way to work out, but would also strengthen my quads and knees to the point that this activity might actually make my knee better. Faulty logic, I know, but I can talk myself into almost any purchase if I rationalize hard enough.

Two summers passed. Today I found myself with a little extra free time and a bit of extra cash. I visited rollergirl.ca, ordered a pair of black short-boot skates with orange wheels and orange laces. About an hour after I placed my order, I got a call from a clerk who informed me that since they’re a local company, I could save myself the shipping charges if I swung by to pick up the skates in person. Now that’s the kind of customer service you don’t see too much of these days.

While I was there, the clerk (whose name I’ve forgotten) tried to talk me into joining Terminal City Roller Girls, the local roller derby league. I’m not new to skating but I had a sneaking suspicion that I couldn’t keep up with these women. She said the league needed referees, and the refs don’t need to be able to skate as well. I took down the web address and promised to check out the site, and to try to make it to a few training sessions just to observe.


Tonight after dinner, I decided to try my hand at skating up and down the alley behind my apartment. R. went out with me to provide moral support, but little did we both know that he’d have to provide physical support as well. I was as unsteady as a newborn colt on eight wheels, barely able to skate from the front of the car to the back. He held my hand and half-pulled me up the alley, and each time I tried to correct my position to keep from falling, he drew in a sharp breath in anticipation of me falling flat on my rear end, or worse, falling forward on my knees. Throughout the hesitation and instability, we couldn’t stop laughing.

As we made our way up the alley, we ran into a twenty-something couple. The smile on the girlfriend’s face got wider and more brilliant as I drew nearer. “Those are the most awesome skates!” she exclaimed. She urged me to try doing a moonwalk down the alley. I just laughed at her. “No, you can do it! Give it a try!” she cheered. The boyfriend stood there with a bemused smile on his face. As we went our separate ways, the boyfriend bade me good luck over his shoulder. I heard them chattering about the skates, about roller skating, and how “old school” skates were much cooler than roller blades, and how they needed to make a comeback. I couldn’t agree more.

R. and I promenaded up and down the alley a couple more times before I begged off, claiming exhaustion. I’d forgotten that when you’ve got heavy skates on your feet, your calves start to hurt after a few minutes. By the end of the thirty minute session, I was very nearly gliding along, and even managed to turn around on my own. I stood while R. knelt down and helped me remove one skate. I was sweaty, tired, and more than a little bit self-conscious, but I felt happier and more joyful than I’ve felt in quite a long time.

Never underestimate the power of childlike wonder and immaturity.

Will it work?

Read my review on Goodreads.

This book suffers because of the amount of time that passed between the last volume in the Life Brother’s saga (2001’s The Living Blood) and the publication of this volume. 7 years is a long time to try to carry the threads of a story forward, and Due has aged the central character at least 10 years. A great deal of Fana’s development is glossed over and treated as little more than a convenient plot device. I also found the speed with I discovered Fana’s true adversary disappointing. Once I solved that mystery, I lost interest in the novel. I knew I would finish it, but I wasn’t excited about it any more.

Due is a good novelist; her “Joplin’s Ghost” is one of the most imaginative books I’ve read in recent memory, but Blood Colony falls flat. I hope it doesn’t take another 7 years for the next volume, and I hope the next novel rekindles the interest I’ve had and the relationships I’ve built with these characters across three novels.

Rating: 2 of 5 stars

See more of my reviews.

I grew up in a poor neighborhood, so no one I knew had a pool. We didn’t even have a neighborhood community center with a public pool nearby, but even if we had, I wouldn’t have been able to use it because I couldn’t swim (and still can’t).

What we had instead were fire hydrants, and every summer as the mercury creeped closer to 90° some soul with a monkey wrench would open the hydrant up the street from my apartment. Kids of all ages, and some people who couldn’t rightly call themselves kids anymore, danced, shimmied, and dodged through the hydrant’s spray. You’d hear people curse under their breath as they drove up the street, especially if they couldn’t roll their windows up fast enough to avoid being hit by the flow, or by buckets of water thrown their way intentionally when they were yards away from the hydrant.

I wasn’t ever allowed to play in the hydrant as a kid. I never understood why, but my mom made sure I never donned shorts and a tank top and doused myself under the deluge. She even had a couple of neighbor ladies pull sentry duty on those days when she couldn’t watch me herself.

When I saw these young girls playing in the fountain at Queen Elizabeth Park last week, I was reminded of the shouts and raucous laughter I heard on warm summer days as I watched the fun from my bedroom window. When I saw them playing it was all I could do to keep from tossing off my shoes and jumping in myself and finally experiencing to me what seemed like the epitome of simple, childlike joy.

Raul posted my entry after all.

Raul of Hummingbird 604 is participating in Blogathon 2008, and attempting to raise money for the BC Cancer Agency. For the next 24 hours, Raul will be posting one new blog entry every hour. It’s a worthy goal, and, not to toot my own horn or anything, but much to my surprise and delight, Raul asked me to participate as well. I’m pretty sure my post is going to make me seem like Debbie Downer, and I wouldn’t blame him if he decided not to run it. Still, go over and read some of the posts Raul and others have contributed toward this effort, and while you’re there, make a pledge in support of the BC Cancer Society.