Nothing to do with libraries.

Guess who I'm going to see tonight?



I very rarely get fan-boyish about musicians, but tonight I am making one BIG exception!

What's in your (hand)bag? An invitation

I was planning to go out this evening. However, I had an unfortunately altercation with a motor vehicle this morning when riding my bike to work. It now feels like somebody's tried to give my leg a swedish massage with a cricket bat. I'm resting it at home with some pain-go-away pills.

So, instead, I have chosen to take up Simmone Howell's invitation to share the contents of my handbag with everybody. Now, I don't have a handbag, because I am a MAN. I don't have a manbag, but I do have my crumpler bag, which I pretty much take everywhere, and is just as prevalent in Melbourne society as handbags, with the added bonus of being non-gender-specific.

I invite you, the reader, to do the same. Feel free to add a link in the comments...

So, behold, the (hand)bag, with its contents inside:



And now, allow me to empty the contents out onto my bed... It says a surprising amount about what I'm doing with my life at the moment.



For a quick rundown:

Books: I bought Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer last week. I've been a vegetarian a few times before, but changes in my life resulted in my relapsing into carnivorous ways. However, I'm pretty determined to stay off the meat this time. Eating Animals is looking to ensure that I never want to eat meat again. It's extremely well written, not at all didactic, and pulls no punches in describing how evil the animal production industry really is. Then, today, in my usual blog-reading, two completely unrelated bloggers mentioned Peter Singer's The ethics of what we eat. Both mentioned reading it as being the turning point to deciding to become vego/vegan. This seemed almost too coincidental to ignore, so I've picked it up off the shelf at work (yes, we have it at my school library), and it's going straight to my bedside pile.

University guides: There are two fold-out guides from RMIT. One is a guide to library services. The other is a guide to student services. No doubt they will come in handy as I progress with my Professional Writing and Editing course.

Class timetable: For RMIT. Plus enrolment documents.

Mobile phone: Yes, it's ancient. It makes and takes phone calls. It sends and receives text messages. I can play Snake on it. What more do I need? (However, I plan to upgrade to an iPhone in the next two months, once I've paid off my uni course fees).

Business cards: Big ones for me-as-librarian. Mini-moo cards for me-as-cabaret-performer.

Tickets: For Amanda Palmer at the Forum Theatre tomorrow night. I am such a fanboy. I made students in my library jealous because they're too little to get in. Then one of them told me that she was one of the girls playing the ukulele in this video. These kids are way cooler than me.

Badges: We don't need no steekin' badges! Actually, I do.

Condoms: Because I'm a good boy. And if there are kids reading this, DON'T put them in your wallet - it's bad. That goes for you big kids too.

Pens: Essential for writing.

Notebook: Essential for storing words.

Moleskine diary: Because I'm a Moleskine slut.

Moleskine addressbook: See above. Plus I don't trust my phone to lose everybody's numbers. It's happened too many times, with many phones.

Invoice: Dated 29/11/2008. Addressed to Corporate Express, Darwin, for providing entertainment for their Christmas Party. It's quite a story, which would take up a blog post in itself. Or, in fact, would make an entertaining short story. Basically, it was an evening of build-up madness at its worst. A week later, I was in Melbourne at the New Librarian's Symposium, meeting people who would come to be lasting friends, and a motivation for me to move back to Melbourne.

Order form: for Ford Street Publishers, which I picked up at launch of Foz Meadows' Solace and Grief last weekend. I should have taken it out of my bag, and put it on my desk at work by now.

Wallet: Good for holding cards and money.

RSVP: for a good friend's wedding, which is a little over a month away. She knows I'm coming - I'm just bad at putting things in the mail. (Sorry, if you're reading this!) I was going to indicate a plus-one, but at the last minute I decided that I'd rather go alone. Plus I'm going to know half the people there anyway, so it'll still be fun!

Receipts: If I don't weed out the receipts regularly, they start to take over.

Nametag: For when I work my casual public library job. On top of my full-time job. Yes, I know. It's insane, but I like to keep perspective by working across a couple of sectors.

Payslip: From work. It's none of your beeswax, but it's nothing to be jealous of, either. I'm just glad to be paid more than enough to survive, doing something I love.

Pamphlet: Guide to the Booktrail of the Southern Highlands. When I recently visited friends in Canberra, we went for a drive along the Hume Highway across to Bowral (which is almost all the way to Sydney) for a bookstore crawl. We got distracted by alpacas and Devonshire Tea in Berrima, but the scones were to die for. We still managed to fit in about half a dozen bookstores. Librarians can be so predictable sometimes.

Elastic bands: For flicking at people when they annoy you.

Every piece tells a story. What's in your (hand)bag?

On context and generalisations...

I've decided to delete my last post.

The problem with blogs is that it's a public forum, and whilst it's cathartic to try and work out all of life's problems through the expression of thoughts, the problem lies wherein those thoughts are derived from a particular scenario. One which would be inappropriate for me to describe specifically.

A possible solution is to try to ascertain if this is a common scenario amongst others in similar situations, through the use of hypothetical generalisations.

Unfortunately, this backfired, and the actual point of my blog was overshadowed by the presentation of examples which were gross overgeneralisations and, whilst apparent in specific areas of the industry, was not necessarily the norm. Many who responded perceived that I was being quick to make widespread conclusions, whereas I was merely alluding to current circumstances, and trying to work out a solution to it.

So, instead, I shall pose another question. A broad one.

Libraries are unique systems. No two libraries are the same. Each exists in within a unique cultural setting, with unique demographics, and every team has differing skill sets.

Given this, to what extent do we look at evidence across the industry to determine performance standards and library policies. Is it even important to know how other libraries exercise best practice, or is it more important to focus specifically on one's own library in terms of its community's needs and the culture it exists in? Where else could we look to in establishing a model for one's own library?

The end of a journey...

I've often been described as being "really focused on my career". So much so that it's become a running joke in my life.

Ever since graduation as a librarian, I've received excellent career advice. Always think two or three jobs ahead of yourself. Know exactly where you want to be in two/five/ten years in the future. Build networks. Monitor your professional development. Keep learning.

Five years ago, I attended a job interview for what would be my first permanent full-time library job. The interview chair asked me where I saw myself in 5-10 years. I remember saying that I saw myself working as a librarian in five years, and certainly managing my own library in ten. To be honest, I never really looked far beyond that.

I ended up working as a professional librarian a year and a half later, and was managing my own small public library branch in under three years. I needed to re-assess my goals, and started thinking about dream jobs. Working in a state library or the NLA. Specialising as a children's librarian.

The NLA has managed to elude me (or have I eluded it?) but I've now worked in two state libraries, both with with involvement in youth literature events. And now, here I am, managing a school library.

Last week, I reached five years in the library world. Two and a half of those were in Darwin. Two and a half in Melbourne. Yes, I've only started in this job, and I know that I'll be here for the "long run" - it really has been what I've been working towards all these years.

And yet, the very idea of not having something further to aspire to makes me uneasy.

Perhaps this is why, eventually, people change professions. Maybe, in five years' time, I'll have had enough of libraries, and move into one of those other professions I wrote on a list about seven years ago when I was wondering what to do with my BA in English. It was really a toss-up between Librarianship and Arts Administration back then. Maybe it's something I'll pursue in the future. Who knows, maybe my professional writing course will pay off, and I'll be a prolifically published author.

Maybe all these things can be my plan. It seems as good as any.

The inevitability of change.

I’ve been in my new job here for almost three weeks, and I’m regularly being asked how it’s going. I regularly find myself reflecting on the same question.

To be honest, it’s everything I hoped, everything I dreaded, and nothing like I thought it would be.

Everything I hoped.

I love fiction for teenagers – whether it be middle reader, YA, crossover, or adult-but-the-bright-kids-will-read-it. In that respect, I’m very much in my element. I love talking to young people about books, and there’s nothing quite like the feeling of seeing young people get excited by books. It really is life-affirming for me, and that’s no exaggeration.

There’s also something about school libraries. They’re the safe place in the school. A place where you can be comfortable to be yourself. Nobody’s going to judge you for curling up in a corner for reading a book. Or for playing Magic: The Gathering around a table. Or coming in first thing every morning to read the opinion section of The Australian. I love being a part of that environment.

Everything I dreaded.

School. Thirteen years ago, I couldn’t wait to leave. Yes, I have a lot of fond memories, but very few of them were of the classroom or the schoolyard. Not that I had much of a problem with bullying, but there was a lot about school culture that I really hated. It was much easier to hide with friends in the library, or a music room, or the drama room.

Thirteen years after graduating, I’m back in a school again, but on the other side. The kids are great here, but I’m still feeling that sense of dread that I felt back in high school that I was in the minority and didn’t quite belong – a feeling that magically dissipated once I got to uni and found my own clique. It’s weird. And a little scary.

Nothing like I thought it would be.

I’m in a really unusual position, in that I’m a librarian, but not a teacher. I manage the library, but don’t teach classes. I believe that part of the reason that I was recruited was because I could bring an “outside” perspective in forming a new vision for the library in the future. Of course, I have many many ideas for new innovation, but they’ve all been formed in the context of my work in public and state libraries. But a library’s a library, right?

Well, yes, but the culture is different. Vastly different. I’m still only coming to terms with slight culture shock from moving into a school environment. Whilst the outcomes of this job are very similar to that of managing a public library branch (which I have done), the nature of the work is utterly different. Managing relationships with different teaching faculties. Working around various teaching styles. Dealing with vastly divergent attitudes toward technology. Different approaches to collection development. It’s going to take me a while to properly see the library’s services through a teacher’s point of view, but I’m having regular meetings and conversations with teaching staff about their thoughts when it comes to the library. Because it’s not only the students’ library. It’s the teachers’ library. In fact, the last person it belongs to is me – the library manager.

I also kinda see why you hardly see any school librarians at ALIA events. The industry is the same, but the culture is very different. In the coming months, I can probably see myself struggling to justify maintaining my membership. Again. Especially when there are organizations like SLAV and ASLA which are more relevant to my work.

Finally, it comes as no surprise that I’m already feeling quite isolated working within the school. I’m missing the regular contact with the community and writing industry that I’ve had in previous jobs. Fortunately, I live in the awesome City of Melbourne, where there are literary events almost every night of the week, and I’m starting my PWE course at RMIT with my first class (Novel) starting tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll continue to make new friends and contacts through these channels, to keep my creativity fired up.

So, how long do you give me to burn out? (It’s apparently better than fading away.)