Ages and ages
So I went to University yesterday and did a training on EndNote. It's a bibliography software that I've struggled with using in fits and starts over the past few years. My academic advisor gave the instructional session, so I decided to try one more time. I think it's finally sunk in, how it works, and I'll give it a go.
It's been ages since I stepped foot on campus. As I'm not teaching this semester, I've had no reason to go there except for occasional use of the toilets library. How warmly I was greeted by so many!
I sat in the doctoral lounge in the afternoon and attempted to get work done. Actually, I did get work done, in an interesting paradox. When I'm alone on my own, I find I seek out forms of distraction. But when other people interrupt me, I get frustrated and strive to concentrate harder.
This photo of the Boosh boys is for drfardook's amusement after a conversation we had last night, but seems oddly apropos of the paradoxes and multiple pulls I felt yesterday.
At any rate, after spending time in my department, I went to the NYU Bobst library where I miraculously still have access. Having first grown used to that library during my undergraduate days, I still flinch when I walk in and see display cases where the card catalogues used to be. It feels like a missing limb. I truly am in some ways still a product of the 20th century, of another age.
I wanted to copy one chapter of a book that my University does not have in its holdings. I discovered that Bobst only has an electronic version, much to my annoyance. And the "ebrary" won't let you print it out. Call me old fashioned, but I want a hard copy! I want to be able to highlight it and mark it up - and :gasp: read it in a cafe or a pub and NOT on the computer. I struggled with whether this makes me the product of another age, or if it's a tangible need that will endure as we further progress into the electronic age and the myth of the joys and efficiency of a paperless society.
One of my exes used to chide me for keeping hard copies of CDs when electronic backups would do. I used to say I liked having them. I still miss playing records and rolling joints on gazing at album covers. In Being Human, one subtle way they showed Mitchell wasn't as he appeared was his stack of records, tapes, and antiquated but still operable stereo. But the fact is, I do now only listen to music on my iPhone, the iPod hooked up to my stereo, or directly from the iTunes library on my computer. I threw out a stack of old games on CD Tuesday. Perhaps it's time to do the same with my CDs.
It's been ages since I stepped foot on campus. As I'm not teaching this semester, I've had no reason to go there except for occasional use of the toilets library. How warmly I was greeted by so many!
I sat in the doctoral lounge in the afternoon and attempted to get work done. Actually, I did get work done, in an interesting paradox. When I'm alone on my own, I find I seek out forms of distraction. But when other people interrupt me, I get frustrated and strive to concentrate harder.
This photo of the Boosh boys is for drfardook's amusement after a conversation we had last night, but seems oddly apropos of the paradoxes and multiple pulls I felt yesterday.
At any rate, after spending time in my department, I went to the NYU Bobst library where I miraculously still have access. Having first grown used to that library during my undergraduate days, I still flinch when I walk in and see display cases where the card catalogues used to be. It feels like a missing limb. I truly am in some ways still a product of the 20th century, of another age.
I wanted to copy one chapter of a book that my University does not have in its holdings. I discovered that Bobst only has an electronic version, much to my annoyance. And the "ebrary" won't let you print it out. Call me old fashioned, but I want a hard copy! I want to be able to highlight it and mark it up - and :gasp: read it in a cafe or a pub and NOT on the computer. I struggled with whether this makes me the product of another age, or if it's a tangible need that will endure as we further progress into the electronic age and the myth of the joys and efficiency of a paperless society.
One of my exes used to chide me for keeping hard copies of CDs when electronic backups would do. I used to say I liked having them. I still miss playing records and rolling joints on gazing at album covers. In Being Human, one subtle way they showed Mitchell wasn't as he appeared was his stack of records, tapes, and antiquated but still operable stereo. But the fact is, I do now only listen to music on my iPhone, the iPod hooked up to my stereo, or directly from the iTunes library on my computer. I threw out a stack of old games on CD Tuesday. Perhaps it's time to do the same with my CDs.