Shhhhhh!

The Times reports that regular patrons of the British Library have been complaining bitterly of late that the Reading Rooms are overwhelmed with undergraduates these days. The whippersnappers reportedly spend much of their time chatting with their mates, texting, using Facebook, and studying with their own books, rather than consulting rare and obscure materials from the BL's massive collection.

Given that I practically lived in the British Library (in both its old and new locations) while I was a postgraduate student, I was particularly interested in this story - and can see both sides of the argument. On the one hand, there's no doubt that the BL has a rareified, elite atmosphere (that's part of its attraction) and the readers can be a stuffy and inflexible bunch. When I first started going to the BL, it was still in its glorious original location within the British Museum. In a very grudging concession to modernity, however, there were about ten desks in the hallowed Reading Room with a power outlet nearby. If, as I did, you had one of those newfangled laptop computer thingies, you had to get there early in the morning to snag a suitable desk space. In 1997, when the new BL opened in St. Pancras, these Luddite tendencies continued as we laptop users were sequestered into one section of the new Humanities Reading Room - where the apparently intolerable noise of our fingernails clicking away on keyboards wouldn't disturb the scholarly peace.

On the other hand, flinging open the doors of the BL to all and sundry in the name of "access" is completely impractical, as workspace is finite. The BL is a research library, and there's no doubt that the average undergraduate has absolutely no need of its collections. It seems the BL's administration would have us believe that there are suddenly more undergraduates working on specialised projects, which require consultation of material in the library's collection. But I was also a bit worried to read that the Library's directors now receive performance bonuses based on the number of people who come through the doors.

Coincidence? I doubt it. So you can add me to the list of stodgy, elitist old farts wanting to bar the door against the philistines. :-D

Hitting the Gym

After several months of consideration, I have decided to join a gym. It's quite a big step for me, as I've always maintained that I hate gyms. That said, my only real experience of them was the athletic centre of one of the universities here in Halifax. I used to go there semi-regularly as an undergraduate, to do step aerobics (which should tell you how long ago that was - how hopelessly passé). I never liked the damp, smelly locker rooms, nor the fieldhouse itself, not least because it had no private spaces for fitness classes. The facility had an elevated running track around its entire perimeter, which led to the not-very-nice experience of being watched, while one exercised, by men who were running laps around the track. Some were surreptitious in their glances as they went by, but others were quite blatant oglers, who would stop running, lean against the track railing with big grins on their faces, and enjoy the sight of all us ladies aerobicising.

So since that time, I've always avoided gyms, preferring to use exercise videos/DVDs at home instead. But exercise trends and venues change. Last year, I noted with interest that a women-only gym, GoodLife, had opened on the upper level of our local grocery store (?!). I liked the idea of an all-female facility, plus I've recently started weight training and I thought I might progress to using some professional weight equipment. Then two months ago, GoodLife dropped a leaflet through my letterbox, offering a two-week trial for $20. I decided to give that a go...and was quite surprised and impressed by what I found. It's a very well-kept facility, with nice change rooms, a good selection of equipment, and a full schedule of group fitness classes as well. I had an induction to the weight-machines circuit, and also learned how to use the treadmills and elliptical trainers. Finally, I tried three group classes - one cardio class with weights (which was very good but left my muscles in a world of pain for three days after), one cardio-dance class (who'dve thought I'd ever do The Robot in public?!), and one yoga/pilates/Tai Chi-hybrid class (in which I totally kicked ass...heh).

So, I've decided to give the gym thing a fresh start. A few weeks ago I met a woman who wanted out of her annual subscription, so I have taken over for the last five months of her membership (to the end of September). By then, I'll definitely know if I'll get good use out of it, and if gyms are really for me after all.

Sugar Mama

Boy, MySpace sure is funny. Like most women, I receive cheesy come-ons from sleazy guys fairly regularly, via my mailbox on the site. They're always good for a laugh before I hit the delete button.

This one, which I received yesterday from "Zack" in West Africa was especially audacious. He writes:

My name is zack, I am 19 years old and I am a pupil in class terminal and I wish to continue my studies in Canada. I have already sent my files to the university of Laval ( qébec ) for the registrations.
That is why I come to you to wonder a help to sponsor my studies just for the first year. I also want that you look for some informations for me about this university.
I am waitingt for a favorable continuation.
Thank you in advance...

I had a giggle, then took a look at this guy's profile. As further enticement for me to open my wallet and work my Canadian university contacts, he has posted various shirtless photos of himself, and in the "About Me" section he notes: "Im student ,Im 19 & Im looking 4 white wife like U." [sic]

Sadly for Zack, I'm not available to become his wife. Hahahahaaaa.

"It's Not You, It's Your Books"

This little NYT essay on literary incompatibility in relationships is a fun little read for a Sunday morning.

As an aside, the more social pieces I read from the New York Times, the more I think it must be kind of awful to be a single woman in Manhattan, looking for a meaningful relationship. Is the dating scene there really as ruthless as it seems? Talk about high standards...yikes.

Zapped

I am playing nursemaid for the next few days. This evening A. had laser surgery on his eyes, so he won't have to wear glasses anymore. Presently the patient is resting and wearing a large pair of Ray Charles-esque disposable shades, which are pretty funny.

I've thought many times about having the same procedure myself. It would be amazing to wake up in the morning, open my eyes, and be able to see clearly without having to fumble for my specs on the bedside table. But I'm not ready to take the plunge just yet. My glasses have been part of who I am for so long that I think I'd feel kinda weird without them. Plus, as I've said before, you don't need a degree in rocket science to realise that zapping your eyeballs with laser beams is possibly not the greatest idea.

Stuff White People Like

Found a great blog today called Stuff White People Like. Pretty funny - but god, are we all so predictable? I admit to being guilty as charged, as regards the following items from the list:

#93 Free Healthcare
#90 Dinner Parties
#83 Bad Memories of High School
#81 Graduate School
#72 Study Abroad
#64 Recycling
#61 Bicycles
#54 Kitchen Gadgets
#51 Living by the Water
#49 Vintage
#47 Arts Degrees
#46 The Sunday New York Times
#44 Public Radio
#43 Plays
#40 Apple Products
#37 Renovations
#36 Breakfast Places
#29 80s Night
#24 Wine
#19 Traveling
#15 Yoga
#13 Tea
#12 Non-Profit Organizations
#5 Farmer’s Markets

Actually, I think they should change the name of this blog to Stuff Upper-Middle-Class American White People Like - as evinced by #75: Threatening to Move to Canada. Haha!