Damn Librarians...

You know, when you think about it, it's a bit weird that the stereotype people have for librarians is still the mousy spinster who sits around and reads all day, shushing those who dare disturb the peace.

I think this is odd, because most librarian I know can quite happily fit into another stereotype, should anyone think of applying it to them: Über Geek. Or, perhaps, Pan-Geek - the geek who is equally geeky/nerdy about everything known to man.

We all seem to share this impulsive need to answer any question that might be floating around (even if it wasn't addressed to us) and look up anything that's even remotely of interest.

"I wonder when the next ferry leaves?"
"Just a second, I'll look that up."

"How do you tune a banjo, anyway?"
"Give me a moment, I'll look that up."

"How many sides does a dodecahedron have?"
"I think it's twelve, but I'll look that up."

"What type of bridge is that?"
"It's a cantilever bridge. I had to look it up for someone the other day."

If you can imagine an annoying geek/nerd who simply must answer everything, and is forever Googling the entire universe, then you can imagine a stereotype that actually fits the majority of librarians today.

Of course, the older librarians would probably consult a book or something, but they're, like, totally ancient, man.

The Craziest Person Gets Right of Way

I think there should be a new traffic law introduced:

The most demonstrably crazy person gets right of way.

Now, I think I'm justified in thinking that person could very well be the nut-case riding a bicycle in peak-hour traffic during a monsoonal downpour.

Surely, if anyone is willing to get on a bicycle and ride through town even though it's been raining furiously for days, then they deserve a clear berth, right?

It makes sense to me. But then, I'm the kind of crazy person who rides a bike to work during monsoonal weather...

Which leads me to the jacket. I foolishly bought a "spray jacket" last year (because it was on sale), and I've been wearing it whilst riding in the rain these past few weeks.

Thing was, I had already worked out that spray jackets were largely useless garments. I mean, they only protect you from a light spray of water, and then only if the material isn't actually touching anything. Should it touch your clothing or your skin, then you may as well be wearing a garment made from fishnets.

I knew this about spray jackets. I knew that they would not provide any protection from the elements that couldn't be provided by any old shirt. And yet, I bought it - specifically to wear while it was raining.

I tell myself it's because it's bright yellow, has reflective bits and dries quickly, which makes it useful in gloomy, rainy conditions, even if it doesn't provide any protection from the rain. I tell myself that I'm going to change my clothes anyway, so it doesn't matter if I get thoroughly drenched. I tell myself that it makes me look as if I'm meant to be out in the rain, instead of being caught unawares, which must surely give me a bit of cred...

The truth is, I want it to be a raincoat. I really want this thing to keep the rain at bay, at least for a little while. I know it won't, but I want it to. I'm always annoyed and disappointed when I get wet from the slightest spray while wearing it.

Why does it exist? Why does it offer the illusory promise of protection from the elements, when it will not and was never likely to keep that promise?

Why do I buy things that I know will not be useful, even though I find the entire concept of their existence appalling and entirely disagreeable? I'm only encouraging the perpetuation of things that do not deserve to Be. I should be made of sterner stuff.

December, High and Thirsty

December, high and thirsty, and I – fool that I am – have once again ventured into the unknown without a decent amount of water. Or a repair kit, for that matter. I know I should take both, but this is the tropics, where we care little for unimportant things, like making it home alive.

Truth is, I am not going too far beyond my ken. Just a little bit further down the road. A few more kilometres.

This is a trip though time, in a way. A part of my city that was build thirty years ago, and hasn't changed much since then. Should I turn left and keep going for a few minutes, I would find newer neighbourhoods build with newer trends and building codes, but I stick with the river, following it up towards the dam. These older houses please me more than the newer ones ever could, anyway.

The path by the river changes into a “safe” cycle path that may be safe, but isn't terribly comfortable. I shift to the road. How many times have I wondered where this road eventually leads? Maybe one day I'll follow it until I find my answer. Maybe one day I'll just remember to look it up.

It seems popular amongst “real” cyclists. Two or three of them pass me, and I wonder if I'll ever feel as though I belong on the same road as someone wearing that much Lycra. One passes me only to turn around a few meters ahead. It seems the road narrows, and there is no space for such things as cyclists ahead.

Me? I haven't reached my target yet. I steel myself for jostling with cars, then notice that the “safe” cycle path is still continuing over on my right. I cut across someone's footpath to get to it. I'd rather share with pedestrians than cars, if given the choice. I like it better when I'm the potentially lethal element in the situation.

Then, suddenly, I'm there. Now what? I thought it would take me longer to get here. Should I just turn around as I planned? That would make for a shorter adventure than I intended.

I coast around the car park for a moment, wondering if I want to walk to the top of the dam for something to do. Or, perhaps, down to the river. Then I remember something I saw in passing, off the other side of the road.

It's a bird-watching platform. Built in the last year or so, with a nice, shiny interpretive sign to tell me all about the birds that come to the borrow pits. I'd never heard of a borrow pit before, although it makes sense that they would exist. Now I know what they are, that we have one, that it fills up with water every summer and that a wide variety of birds can be found here. I love interpretive signs. You almost always learn something new.

I notice the mountain range on the way back. It's a range I see all the time on the way to work, but it's a side and an angle I almost never see. I'm looking at the sun playing across the face of the mountains and I marvel at how pretty it is from this side – how beautiful and unfamiliar. I can barely take my eyes off it.

Nor, for that matter, the peacock which is inexplicably walking up the bike path on the other side of the road. What on earth...? How did that get there?

The things you see in your own town, eh?

You get what you get - Black Wolf Taipan hydration packs

It's one of the great fallacies that I buy hook line and sinker every time:

"You get what you pay for"

The truth is, you get what you get. I've lost count of the times I payed extra for the sake of perceived value, only to find that the expensive thing I bought broke just as quickly and easily as something much cheaper and "nastier". Heck, sometimes the more expensive thing was so awkward and hard to use, I ended up ignoring it and using the "cheaper and nastier" option anyway.

I'm feeling particularly burned, at present, by the Black Wolf "Taipan" hydration pack.

The first one I bought didn't even make it home from the shop before the plastic grip on the handle snapped. I took it back to exchange it for a non-broken bag, and noticed there were a few others in the shop with snapped handles. I figured this was clearly a design flaw, and decided to avoid holding it by that handle if it could be avoided.

The second bag (the replacement for the first) made it home without breaking, but never made it out of the house in the same condition. I removed the bladder to fill it with water, and when I put it back in the bag the tabs for holding the tubing popped out of the stitching. To add insult to injury, the bladder leaked.

$100 for a bag that broke (at three different places) the first time I tried to use it. I'm not getting another one of those, I can tell you.

Wondermark

Ah, that Wondermark.

Such a great addition to one's day.

Wonder Woman Movie

Thank you, DC. I was hoping you'd eventually notice that Wonder Woman could at least star in her own animation, even if we have to wait another 30 years for a live action film:

Pre-fab Neighbourhoods

I stole this from one of my own comments on someone else's blog. Shh, don't tell anyone (not that anyone reads this thing, anyway). It was a reply to a post on translating street names into English.

In Australia we're getting a lot of what I call "pre-fab neighbourhoods".

Someone just ups-and-buys a wide stretch of bushland where the wallabies roam, the kites have their nests in the trees, the plovers have their nests on the ground and the various skinks, snakes and goannas run free... Then they bulldoze the lot and turn it into these tiny blocks of land on these torturous "streets" where people who should have more sense build houses that are a) ugly and b) too big.

There are many things about these pre-fabricated neighbourhoods that annoy me. One is the fact that they are often built in known flood plains, but the body corporate bi-laws insist that all houses in these estates be low-block. There's a reason why the classic "Queenslander" style house is raised, you morons. Pay attention.

Another is the way they give the streets cutsey and entirely inappropriate names. 'Riverside Boulevard', for a street that isn't a boulevard. 'Hampton Circuit' for something that is clearly a Crescent. And, oh! The number of streets calling themselves "parades" or "avenues", when they are clearly just plain, old fashioned streets.

Heck, they don't even bother to plant trees along the avenues. That's completely missing the point.

Also, most of these street-like things just turn back in on themselves in a sinuous, sinister manner designed to squeeze more houses into a small area, rendering most of these estates impenetrable rabbit warrens - and some how they keep building "streets" that are too narrow for a fire truck to get past any car that might be parked on the side of the road.

I swear, this sort of thing shouldn't be legal. Heck, it probably isn't (it's amazing the way enough money can make laws 'go away').

Anyway, I guess my point is, sometimes the English speaking countries shouldn't be allowed to name their own streets. No one else should be expected to get them right under these circumstances.