I'm sure that everyone else has known who Chris Ware is--I'm usually a couple of years behind the times--except with 80s music, I was right there in the thick of it.
I buckled under The New Yorker's professional rate ($25!) and subscribed for 2004. This last week's was a double issue (February 16 & 23). There I was, on the MBTA Red Line heading to Alewife Station when I come to Chris' graphic story "The Whole Time." I don't care what you have to do--beg, borrow, photocopy, this 2-page story.
There I am, bundled up in my winter coat, bag slung at my feet, crying over a stupid comic.
I then went to a local comics store in Coolidge Corner begging them for anything that some person named "Chris" wrote--I made the mistake of not writing down the name...The owner asked me to describe the comic--asked me, a person that only reads Boondocks and Doonesbury. I said that they are very sad with clean lines, and he said, "Chris Ware."
Keep on Keepin' on:
I've decided that life is too short to not have dessert--calories be damned.
I've never met Chris Sherman, but he has invaded my head. Just when I've been searching for ways to keep things found, Chris saves my bacon by publishing this article Create Your Own Online Web Page Archive. Now, I need to remember to go to Furl and SurfSaver.
Now, where'd I put my pen?
I need to keep track of things. I found this great site with articles related to "Keeping Things Found." Well, I can't find it. (Ok, it's here, but I still had to look for it.)
Like many people, I have tons of bookmarks. I tend to print out the first page of something interesting online and put it on my desk. Granted, it sits there until my yearly desk-cleaning where the site is no longer there, the information is no longer current, and I, for the life of me, can't remember why I found it so interesting in the first place.
Because I am interested in using a blog behind the firewall at my company, I've been reading about blogs and wikis. See Daypop, SnipSnap, and Vanilla.
I'm interested in knowing other corporate libraries or special libraries that are using weblogs to push. I've read some of the articles that SLA has on their site (password required?)
Therefore, I hope that I can remember that I went to all of these places and started this process before I get to distracted with new bright and shiny objects.
My first library job required me to work in a cage. It was January 1990 when I discovered that one of my college roommates would not be returning to school (small liberal arts college in Ohio). I needed a new job because I was leaving the theatre department's costume shop where I had been previously employed. (I still can't sew, but I can catalog and organize costumes.) I new she worked in the library and that her boss was named Bev.
I went to the reference desk and asked for Bev. A small, 60ish woman approaches the desk to ask how she can help me. I explain that my roommate wasn't returning to school and that she probably didn't tell them. So, here she was, heartbroken that her employee wasn't returning (it turns out, she was a favorite)--here I was, needing a job. I ask to take her place on a trial basis--2 weeks. Walking away, I realize that I forgot to ask about the job.
The next day, I was showed the cage--the place where a computer, a modem, 2 desks, and the Government Document Librarian's office was located. The cage extended the length of a very long shelf and had a metal caged door that was locked--because of the computer, you see.
I became the student assistant for government documents. The library hadn't computerized its offerings, so I even got to use card catalogs. It was my by far one of the best jobs I ever had. I got to weed the collection, train other students, and process all of the government documents. Storage was on the top floor of the building where the college archives were located. In the summers, I would have to change into long pants and a long-sleeved shirt to work because the air conditioning was so strong.
I miss that cage. The modem made that modemy-sound when I had to logon to the network. I miss all those World War II posters and ration stamps that I organized. The librarians were always talking about books they had read and always seemed to be involved in local politics. I miss the praise I received from Bev when she said, "I'm glad you found us because you are even better than your predecessor."