Officially going Mad
So the semester has officially begun. It's offical in that I've actually had all my classes now, which also means that I'm officially swimming in homework. Luckily I seem to be swimming with my head above water... so far... but I also haven't actually gotten any of my work from the Prof I'm TAing for yet, and I'm going to be going to fill out volunteer forms at the HRC right after I finish this post, so take that free time! I'm sort of ambivilant about the volunteer position. On one hand, it's a great opportunity and if the semester gets really horrible, which I fully expect, I can very politely take less hours and not feel guilty about it because they're not paying me. On the other hand, they're not paying me. And I likes me food. Sigh. The problem is that all the real preservation/conservation jobs on campus are a minimum of 10 hours a week, and I don't want to die. I really don't want to die.
We spent a couple of hours discussing Internships yesterday during booklab. There are lots of happy fun internships in really neat places like Berkley and NYU.... that don't pay anything. So if you can live in Berkely or New York City on nothing ... you have a sugar daddy. It's sad when your professers mention "marrying rich" as one of the accepted means of getting ahead in your field. Because you can only take most of the best internships/ classes/ apprenticeships if you have someone else paying the bills for 1-5 years. Likewise, I could get an internship in England, but only if I don't want to get paid. Which for me would translate to "live in a box and eat dirt." It's all very depressing.
At least I probably wouldn't automatically be suspected of terrorism if I tried for the job at the British Library. One of our students is on scholarship from a Carribean nation, and while her scholarship folks (ie her government) wants her to intern at a World Heritage Something something Repository, she's worried that that limits her to the Library of Congress, because otherwise she's a foriegn national attempting to keep her Fsomething status as an American Student while interning at the British Museum... yeah. Not so good. Not that the Library of Congress is small potatoes, and really, of all of us, I think she'd get it the most easily as she's damned good. I know I'm not a canidate for that one. I might try anyways, but I know I'm not that good.
So now begins the five months of self-doubt, worry, near panic, and trepetation over "Getting the Internship That Will Define Your Career." I'm so excited
In happier news, the Bicycle Repair Fairy visited my house the other night. I'd off-hand mentioned to Jeff at the library that I'd be walking my bike in, because my front tire was absolutely flat. The slow leak at the beginning of the summer resulted in a complete melt down while I was away for two months. While I was out with a friend for his birthday, Jeff apparently showed up at my place with a bike pump and a replacement tire. Since I'd locked the front wheel, he just pumped it up, but it lasted until I could ride it in on Tuesday and he changed the tire while I was in class. He apparently told my housemates that he does these things because he "loves bikes, even if the students abuse theirs." I'd believe this, coming from a librarian who rides $5,000 touring bikes and had leather-accented Touring saddle-bags. He's also apparently on the lookout for a new bike seat for me, as he finds mine appalling. I need to bake him cookies or something.
We spent a couple of hours discussing Internships yesterday during booklab. There are lots of happy fun internships in really neat places like Berkley and NYU.... that don't pay anything. So if you can live in Berkely or New York City on nothing ... you have a sugar daddy. It's sad when your professers mention "marrying rich" as one of the accepted means of getting ahead in your field. Because you can only take most of the best internships/ classes/ apprenticeships if you have someone else paying the bills for 1-5 years. Likewise, I could get an internship in England, but only if I don't want to get paid. Which for me would translate to "live in a box and eat dirt." It's all very depressing.
At least I probably wouldn't automatically be suspected of terrorism if I tried for the job at the British Library. One of our students is on scholarship from a Carribean nation, and while her scholarship folks (ie her government) wants her to intern at a World Heritage Something something Repository, she's worried that that limits her to the Library of Congress, because otherwise she's a foriegn national attempting to keep her Fsomething status as an American Student while interning at the British Museum... yeah. Not so good. Not that the Library of Congress is small potatoes, and really, of all of us, I think she'd get it the most easily as she's damned good. I know I'm not a canidate for that one. I might try anyways, but I know I'm not that good.
So now begins the five months of self-doubt, worry, near panic, and trepetation over "Getting the Internship That Will Define Your Career." I'm so excited
In happier news, the Bicycle Repair Fairy visited my house the other night. I'd off-hand mentioned to Jeff at the library that I'd be walking my bike in, because my front tire was absolutely flat. The slow leak at the beginning of the summer resulted in a complete melt down while I was away for two months. While I was out with a friend for his birthday, Jeff apparently showed up at my place with a bike pump and a replacement tire. Since I'd locked the front wheel, he just pumped it up, but it lasted until I could ride it in on Tuesday and he changed the tire while I was in class. He apparently told my housemates that he does these things because he "loves bikes, even if the students abuse theirs." I'd believe this, coming from a librarian who rides $5,000 touring bikes and had leather-accented Touring saddle-bags. He's also apparently on the lookout for a new bike seat for me, as he finds mine appalling. I need to bake him cookies or something.