(no subject)
Today is tough and stupid.
There was an earthquake here this morning, not that I felt it. 4.2, far away, 40k deep. But a bigger than normal truck went past just before and the whole roof groaned, so I'm on edge, and wasn't in the mood for 'hah, you bought them with you!' jokes, because on-edge Ali is moody-cow Ali.
Also $4 million was cut from National Library's budget today so everyone is doom and gloom. My team leader last week was trying to reassure me that my job at NatLib was secure, so I would be happier to resign from public libraries. 90% secure, she said. 90% my ARSE. Not that I have any idea how a budget works, and what $4 million means in practical terms, but it's a shitload of money we couldn't afford to lose.
I'm just so tired. And I miss people. People I can actually talk to. And HUG. I want to come home and hug everyone. Maybe you don't realise how much you hug till you get deprived for a week (or till you get drunk.)
Also, dear self. Don't ever get ridiculously drunk in a corset ever again.
Also (I am writing this at work) someone just stole my trolley. I saw their feet come and take it away. My desk is behind a screen so I am hidden. Will have to go and find another, less superior trolley. But at least the collection I'm about to do is on Greek Mythology. And dinosaurs.
***
Now I am home. Or if not home, then back at the motel. I am, naturally, writing this from bed while eating pizza. I can hear someone having a bath, but other than that it is quiet. Leah was looking up the reviews for the place, and all of them said 'quiet'... Too quiet, sometimes. I kept waking up whenever the heater came on downstairs. And too clean: I like coming home to a bit of mess, or at least, feeling comfortable enough somewhere to make mess. Cleaners come in here and clean all the things. I feel compelled to clean them first.
Moata, she who has the blog on Stuff (she too blogged about the rescue) sent round a link to photos from the day.
D:
Alina said that they actually went into the building yesterday - the staff, not just the hired muscle. I was SO VERY ANGRY. Such a stupid stupid thing to do, bosses! I got most of my ranting out on Alina and Leah last night though, so I'll refrain. Aside from saying that looking at some of these photos totally freaks me out and I would have been a shuddering mess in the carpark, if anyone had given me a hard hat.
Cos... yay for book rescuing, and, potentially, entire-future-of-Chch-NatLib rescuing, yay for all that, but people DIED when buildings fell on them. Pyne Gould is like four minutes walk from there. The engineers have been saying for AGES that the centre wall could collapse at any time in any aftershock, and looking at it, it's easy to believe. And STILL, despite everything the bosses assured us, in the staff were sent.
And I think risking your life for books is excellent in, well, print, but in real life it is stupid and upsetting and makes me kind of feel numb inside.
Of course there are only two things to do when you feel like that.
A, Re-write AFP songs. But I've already done that. (Although if i want to sit here and re-write stupid songs you can bet your black ass that I'm going to.)
B, PAINT!
Here is the staff room, and the cracks in my broken cup. Jason Webley is poignant. When the glass is full, drink up, drink up, this may be the last time we see this cup...
This is where I stood on that fateful day I wrote the photocopying song
This is where my desk sort of used to be. That big hole in the wall? That used to be a window.
This is where I used to sit on the desk when I worked in Circulation, to sort out the picture books or the Maori books. One of the circ girls crouched under the desk on the 22nd as the wall became... like that, above her.
The Asian Food Warehouse... no entry. I heard there was liquefaction inside the building... merging with all that rotting, rotting food. D: The people who own it want to get their fridges out, but it isn't promising, they're in worse shape than we are... See that second circle up the top! See that sky between those two bits of building? Yeah. That sky is not supposed to be visible.
Gotta love art therapy.
Also, bras.
Because Thursday night is late night shopping night in Palmy! And certain awesome bras were calling my names. Billy, Dom! they call. Bring her in here!
So I did. And now I have awesome bras. And no one to show till tomorrow evening :( The lady in the bra shop really liked the idea of a dead bra wall, like we have in the FoD.
So, at the end of the day, and the post, things are not so tough and stupid anymore. I might go spa again, since I won't have this room again next week. Also waaa, that I have to come up again next week.
I will end with some eerie photos!
There was an earthquake here this morning, not that I felt it. 4.2, far away, 40k deep. But a bigger than normal truck went past just before and the whole roof groaned, so I'm on edge, and wasn't in the mood for 'hah, you bought them with you!' jokes, because on-edge Ali is moody-cow Ali.
Also $4 million was cut from National Library's budget today so everyone is doom and gloom. My team leader last week was trying to reassure me that my job at NatLib was secure, so I would be happier to resign from public libraries. 90% secure, she said. 90% my ARSE. Not that I have any idea how a budget works, and what $4 million means in practical terms, but it's a shitload of money we couldn't afford to lose.
I'm just so tired. And I miss people. People I can actually talk to. And HUG. I want to come home and hug everyone. Maybe you don't realise how much you hug till you get deprived for a week (or till you get drunk.)
Also, dear self. Don't ever get ridiculously drunk in a corset ever again.
Also (I am writing this at work) someone just stole my trolley. I saw their feet come and take it away. My desk is behind a screen so I am hidden. Will have to go and find another, less superior trolley. But at least the collection I'm about to do is on Greek Mythology. And dinosaurs.
***
Now I am home. Or if not home, then back at the motel. I am, naturally, writing this from bed while eating pizza. I can hear someone having a bath, but other than that it is quiet. Leah was looking up the reviews for the place, and all of them said 'quiet'... Too quiet, sometimes. I kept waking up whenever the heater came on downstairs. And too clean: I like coming home to a bit of mess, or at least, feeling comfortable enough somewhere to make mess. Cleaners come in here and clean all the things. I feel compelled to clean them first.
Moata, she who has the blog on Stuff (she too blogged about the rescue) sent round a link to photos from the day.
D:
Alina said that they actually went into the building yesterday - the staff, not just the hired muscle. I was SO VERY ANGRY. Such a stupid stupid thing to do, bosses! I got most of my ranting out on Alina and Leah last night though, so I'll refrain. Aside from saying that looking at some of these photos totally freaks me out and I would have been a shuddering mess in the carpark, if anyone had given me a hard hat.
Cos... yay for book rescuing, and, potentially, entire-future-of-Chch-NatLib rescuing, yay for all that, but people DIED when buildings fell on them. Pyne Gould is like four minutes walk from there. The engineers have been saying for AGES that the centre wall could collapse at any time in any aftershock, and looking at it, it's easy to believe. And STILL, despite everything the bosses assured us, in the staff were sent.
And I think risking your life for books is excellent in, well, print, but in real life it is stupid and upsetting and makes me kind of feel numb inside.
Of course there are only two things to do when you feel like that.
A, Re-write AFP songs. But I've already done that. (Although if i want to sit here and re-write stupid songs you can bet your black ass that I'm going to.)
B, PAINT!
Here is the staff room, and the cracks in my broken cup. Jason Webley is poignant. When the glass is full, drink up, drink up, this may be the last time we see this cup...
This is where I stood on that fateful day I wrote the photocopying song
This is where my desk sort of used to be. That big hole in the wall? That used to be a window.
This is where I used to sit on the desk when I worked in Circulation, to sort out the picture books or the Maori books. One of the circ girls crouched under the desk on the 22nd as the wall became... like that, above her.
The Asian Food Warehouse... no entry. I heard there was liquefaction inside the building... merging with all that rotting, rotting food. D: The people who own it want to get their fridges out, but it isn't promising, they're in worse shape than we are... See that second circle up the top! See that sky between those two bits of building? Yeah. That sky is not supposed to be visible.
Gotta love art therapy.
Also, bras.
Because Thursday night is late night shopping night in Palmy! And certain awesome bras were calling my names. Billy, Dom! they call. Bring her in here!
So I did. And now I have awesome bras. And no one to show till tomorrow evening :( The lady in the bra shop really liked the idea of a dead bra wall, like we have in the FoD.
So, at the end of the day, and the post, things are not so tough and stupid anymore. I might go spa again, since I won't have this room again next week. Also waaa, that I have to come up again next week.
I will end with some eerie photos!