Warning: This entry contains libraryspeak that I am not going to translate because it's not important that you understand.
I'm feeling all accepted and knowledgable because people at work are coming to me with special projects. A couple days ago, I started learning to read Russian cyrillic so I could start sorting through old Russian and Hebrew save records in RLIN to prepare for the OCLC conversion in July. My only experience with hearing Russian is from watching overexcited, panting pre-teen gymnasts on the Olympics who just stuck their landing, so that's what it all sounds like when I read it to myself -- high-pitched and fraught with gasping pauses.
Also, an energetic old woman just came to me with a bunch of brittle books that need to be queued for microfilming. I'm not altogether sure what this entails other than assigning microfilm call numbers. Apparently this task was given to me because the books are about music, but the thing sounds like something better suited for a tech because it requires no actual knowledge of cataloging or music, but fine. I don't mind. I like to touch old, falling apart books. They smell like history, and sometimes they release an entertaining cloud of spores when you open them.
Those are spores.
I'm not going to talk about the library anymore because you're all bored and all this talk of spores has made me feel lonely. I'm going to go play.
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