listening after dark

What I love about Montana

Fog, sun, rain.

 

Flathead Lake.

Glacier National Park.

Clear, dark skies.

Views, sunsets, mountains, forests.

Travel = brainpower

Travel makes the world look new, and when the world looks new, our brains work harder.*

Even travel that takes us only a short distance from home.

When I travel with my camera, even just across town or into the woods, I look at everything differently. I focus on small details. I see patterns and contrasts. Mundane items have new appeal. I make connections. I remember.

*Quote from Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon. This book was a perfect reminder that creativity is earned and learned. It's a habit. The blogging I used to do was more about unfolding ideas and sharing pieces than a day-to-day account of my life. It was not facebook.

One of Kleon's suggestions is to "give away your secrets." I think that's what I try to do by sharing ideas and pieces. These aren't dirty secrets. They aren't even big secrets. They are small, but still worthwhile.

Four things I did not expect about being a librarian

1. Getting used to saying "you're welcome." Apparently I used to be very bad at this. I would shrug off thank yous with a "sure" or "it's OK." But "you're welcome" is actually the best response. I am pleasantly surprise at how often I am thanked.
2. Heavy lifting. I have moved more heavy things — books, furniture, shelves, computers — as a librarian than I ever did in previous jobs. When you picture librarians, you don't picture manual labor, do you?
3. Math. Oh, the numbers! Along with moving books come the calculations for how and where to move them, plus calculations for the amount of time and the number of people required. Librarians also love to track statistics for book checkouts, program attendees and library visitors. And then there are the budgets. Thankfully I only have to keep track of a few line items for the collections I manage — fiction books, audiobooks and ebooks.
4. Awkwardness. When you interact with the public all day, you never know what sort of interactions you might have. Some of them (people, conversations, questions) are very awkward. But as a side benefit, I may have learned to control my blush reaction, at least in part.

A little here, a little there

This fall, beginning to take part in a two-year leadership program, I have already learned a few things about myself:

1. In certain company, and under the influence of group-generated enthusiasm, I can appear to be an extrovert. That was a surprise.
2. In an effort to get to know more of the group, and in my flitting from one small group to another, I may reduce my chances for having a niche or a subgroup of my own. (In college, I hung out mostly with other English majors, theatre and music geeks, swing and ballroom dancers, and the people I happened to live nearby.) A desire to broaden my circle or a lack of commitment?
3. I am definitely an anomaly for my age group in my demographic in my locale. Unmarried, no children, well traveled, not a college football fan, not a Republican. Nontraditional.

I've never been afraid to do things on my own, my own way, but not loudly. I usually prefer going unnoticed. But in doing so, I may also limit my chances for new friendships, close connections and shared experiences.

I'm not sure what the solution is, or if there needs to be a solution. Just a few thoughts to save for later.

Ten years ago today, I was

Sitting on a park bench in Dublin, writing in my journal about the wealth of green in the grass and shrubs and damp trees. "The smells of fall and decay and cold are everywhere — I love to come out of variously odd-smelling buildings into the crispness."

Taking a break between museums.

Enjoying a respite between colds.

Probably better rested than in previous days, after buying earplugs to drown out the sounds of Temple Bar — glass bottles being sorted at 11 every night and metal kegs rolling down the cobblestone street at 6 every morning.

Contemplating the course of our group's travels — at that point, north from London along the eastern edge of England, all over Scotland and most recently on a long, rainy three-bus trip from Belfast to Dublin.

Realizing an appreciation for the art of Jack Yeats.

Still high on the wonders of Iona, and yet to encounter the glory of the Aran Islands.

You know you're having a busy week when...

All the unread emails in your personal inbox are from yourself.

You have so many stacks of paper and documents on your desk at work that you can't focus on a single task with any real determination.

You keep adding items to your to-do lists, without crossing off anything.

You're annoyed that a stomach virus keeps you in bed for a day, preventing you from doing your planned weekend chores.

You really, really miss your hot tub, which is currently waiting for a replacement pump.

Socially unacceptable declarations

I love my hair.

I don't have any debt.*

I'm happy with my body.

I am confident in my intelligence and abilities.

*I could write a whole post about how it seems acceptable to bemoan (or almost brag about) the amount of debt one has, while it seems un-American to live within or below one's means. Aside from my new mortgage and small loans from family (quickly paid back), I have never been in debt. I've never had a huge salary, but when I was young I learned to save money and only buy things I could afford.