Makeover time!

It's getting to be close to that time of year where I take stock of my life and usually find that I've fallen short of my personal goals. I daresay a full-blown existential crisis is around the corner.

It's time to make change in my life since other changes aren't happening fast enough, so I've started going to the rec center on campus, which I have free access to and have only just activated in five years of employment there...

...and I overhauled my blog layout for the first time since its beginning.

No such thing as altruism

I've argued before to people that I don't believe true altruism exists.

Here's my latest case in point: I've started volunteering. Now, volunteering is a very giving sort of thing to do, innit? The giving of time and energy in exchange for no monetary gain? Yet I myself know that my reasons are anything but pure, and I'm fine with that. I know I'm no Mother Theresa.

Reason 1: I have no library experience on my resume but would like to transfer into that line of work. I have no way of going up against people who have either the relevant degree or experience--so I need to get that experience in some way. You can't gain paid experience in a job that demands experience to get into it, so I had to find another way. Enter volunteering. Two afternoons a week, for a few hours, I shelve books or do other tasks that may need doing.

Reason 2: I like doing it. I love putting books and materials to rights, to seeing the rows of neatly lined up items tidied by my own hand. I like feeling productive and efficient, seeing the cart of unshelved materials dwindle down until it's empty, knowing I did that. I only work part-time and am searching for full-time; in the meantime, not too many productive activities occupy my time, so having something constructive that gets me out of the house and away from the computer is a bonus.

So there ya have it. I'm a selfish volunteer.

Recent reads and an unasked-for explanation

Since demolishing Jim Butcher's Changes, I've devoured four more books, all from my existing collection.

You see, I am a woman on a mission. I catalogued my personal library recently, clocking in at 500 books, which didn't include the miscellaneous books hiding out in my closet or on loan to people. Of those 500, about 375 were books I'd bought with the intent of reading them. Problem is, I always got distracted by shiny new books from the library and in the meantime I'd find more cool books to buy without reading, and thus the collection grew without being read... 500 books isn't the biggest, clunkiest collection, I grant, but it's still quite a bit, and pending a new job, I plan on moving--and I really don't feel like moving 500 books into what's likely to be a modest apartment.

Now, I am the type to re-read good books. However, most books are not re-read books--there are just too many books waiting to be read for the first time. So I've limited my library access to crochet books or reference. I am under firm instruction to read my own books and be merciless in determining whether they can stay or go. Some ground rules:

• Books have 50 pages to get interesting. This is a flexible guideline; a mildly promising book can have a stay of execution for however many more pages if I feel it is warranted. The idea is that I am under no obligation to waste time on a book that is uninteresting, thereby freeing myself up to move on to the next book.
• If the book is really, really, earth-shatteringly amazing, and I am absolutely certain I will re-read it at a later date, it can stay and join the ranks of "already read" books on my shelves. Neil Gaiman books, Douglas Adams books, favorites like Ender's Game--these all fall under this category. Many books do not.
• Books can be disposed of in one of several ways: 1. Sold back to the used book store, 2. Passed on to interested friends, and 3. Bookcrossed. The point is: they must go.

Like many people with full pantries, I often fall guilty of the pitfall of staring at full shelves and whining that there's nothing to devour. And yet, if I stare long enough and shift around the piles of overflow books, I can usually rustle up something. Most recently:

The King of Elfland's Daughter, Lord Dunsany - A classic work of high fantasy. I didn't exactly like this book and didn't really connect with many of the characters, and I was not a fan of his often flowery language. Yet somehow, it interested me enough to finish reading it to the inevitable happily ever after.

Survivor, Chuck Palahniuk - I did not like the two previous Palahniuk books I read-- Fight Club and Lullaby. They were too over the top and laden with shock for shock's effect. This one was a bit toned down--but no less satirical and scathing in its criticism of our culture. I wouldn't re-read this one, nor would I call it a favorite, but I actually enjoyed it. He spared our celebrity-obsessed culture no mercy.

Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, Dai Sijie - Bittersweet little read of a book. One of many volumes that extoll the joys of reading and its power to transport us to other places.

Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year, Anne Lamott - Plowed through this one in a few hours of insomnia last night. It captures the ups and downs of the first year of parenthood in a refreshingly honest way--sometimes she outright resents the squalling kidlet, and other times he's this amazing creature that she can't imagine her life without.

Yes, that is a rather odd assortment to come from the same bookshelf, much less to read back-to-back, but eh. I'm eclectic.

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Now playing: Tunng - King
via FoxyTunes

Latest goings-on

In the background: a blanket I completed for a friend's wedding this weekend. Well, it's more of a throw, perfect to sling over the back of the couch or put over your lap on a chilly evening. The yarn is a thick chenille, using up about 6 skeins of my out-of-control stash. And no, you're not seeing things--the bands of color are indeed of varying widths, according to the pattern. More or less. I did add one more repeat, which does throw off the proportions a bit, but eh. It's a perfectly serviceable blanket, and the chenille makes it drape so nicely--it feels like a real, substantial blanket on your lap.

In the foreground: a cup of herbal acai berry tea. I love drinking red tea in a clear mug--it's like sipping liquid rubies or something.

Also in the foreground: the latest installment of Jim Butcher's Dresden Files series. That's a signed copy too, I'll have you know; I waited two hours in line for that. Ahem. Anyway, I've said repeatedly that it's a rare series that gets better as it goes, and Dresden Files is rare indeed. The stakes go up a little more each book, and in this one, hoo boy, did they. The pressure begins on page one and is unrelenting. "Changes" is an apt title--by the time the dust has more or less cleared, readers are left wondering where the series can and will go next. Some of the curveballs I saw coming, but others were gut-wrenching. I almost want to go back and re-read the previous 11 books to see what things I missed. Sigh. So many books, so little time.

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Now playing: Hot Water Music - Paper Thin
via FoxyTunes

How's that for gratitude?

I dragged took my younger sister to a couple thrift stores today. While we were looking around, I found several things that I thought would be perfect for her--the culminations of her heart's every last desire, in short. She--ungrateful wretch--shot down all my ideas.

First, I absolutely knew beyond a doubt that she had been lusting for a jewelry box with a wooden mallard atop the lid. A wooden mallard--how cool is that? She didn't want it.

OK, fine, so she had a thing against ducks. Whatever. I found another box that could function as a jewelry box if she wanted, and it offered more generous space to boot. It was a cigar box that had been finished off with some sort of sealant and a painting of clowns on the top. Clowns with sad faces, red noses, and one with a receding hairline. It was only moderately creepy. Again, this was a no-go.

We quickly passed over the statue with the vacant eyes and wide smile, and there I saw what I was confident she would love. Right next to the '70s-era owl statue with the glaring green eyes, I found a statue of two people. They were locked in a kiss. Hey, passion's cool, and besides, it would lend instant class to whatever room it was put in, especially when your gaze drifts down from their faces to notice that the guy is totally groping the chick's boob.

Suffice it to say, she didn't want that one either. Sigh. At least I have a few more months to come up with a suitable birthday gift.

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Now playing: Rise Against - Paper Wings
via FoxyTunes

Keep slogging on

On a good day, I can send out job applications with something remarkably akin to optimism. Well, that's a rather strong word--guarded optimism, perhaps. On those days, when straggling rejection notices return to me, I laugh them off and gleefully talk about my upcoming wall art project. I may not have a wall worth of the fuckers yet, but the collection is growing.

Other days or times, like this morning, are not so great. Tired from poor sleep and trying to shake off some lingering moodiness, I opened my inbox to find a free and unsolicited shredding of everything wrong with my resume, courtesy of a job listing site. This was, I knew rationally, a set-up for the pitch at the end of the e-mail: "But if you pay us, we can write you an awesome one!!!1!" Still. It smarted. I'd be lying if part of me didn't think of bursting into frustrated tears.

I moped for a bit, though, and I stewed. I gave in to the worrisome fears: "What if I don't actually have anything worth offering to a company that will pay me a living wage? What if this attempt to leave academia also fails? What if I made a mistake in leaving? What if I have to go back in the fall with my tail between my legs and my pride bruised? Am I going to be stuck for the rest of my life teaching reluctant, under-prepared college freshmen things they should already know how to string coherent sentences and paragraphs together, without ever having stepped outside of academe?" Life looks pretty bleak on little sleep and no coffee yet.

And then I put on my big-girl panties and a pot of coffee and decided to try a couple resources for job searching/career changing advice. Score. I found Leaving Academia and numerous recommendations for a book specifically geared toward what I am trying to do. In picking up the book from the campus library, I also picked up several books on resumes and cover letters.

Incidentally, the advice in the books coincided to some extent with the contents of the e-mail that nearly undid me earlier in the morning. And here's the kicker--the criticism didn't hurt because I felt it was uncalled for; it hurt because it cut straight to the heart of some of my nagging fears. I hadn't yet constructed my resume in a way to emphasize my assets and make some of the idiosyncrasies of adjuncting less glaring. (For one thing, put in strict chronological order, my resume makes me look like a job-hopper--until you look closer at the dates to see that at any given point 2 or 3 of the positions were concurrent ones. I'm told HR folk don't look twice.) I had a mission.

And thus my meltdown was over. I opened up a new document and constructed my resume again and went back to square one with my cover letters. The search continues. It's getting a bit wearying, but I've lived the alternative and don't wish to go back, not without having at least seen what else is out there.

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Now playing: ELUVEITIE - Omnos
via FoxyTunes

Rumors of my demise, etc. etc.

In the absence of blogging, here's a smattering of what I've been up to:

• making things with yarn
• working as many hours as I can without going over allowed hours
• watching Dr. Who
  
• sending out job applications to other cities in a slowly widening radius
• reading interesting books
• planting flowers and herbs
• getting back into evening walks
• working consciously on correcting negative and self-defeating patterns of thinking
• reconnecting with friends and acquaintances and being open to meeting new people
• teaching an acquaintance's granddaughter how to crochet
• catching up with my unread National Geographic magazine stack
  

Huh. Guess I've been busier than I thought.