Being the official unofficial librarian has its perks. Last semester, I got to help decide which books to purchase with the $8000 or so allocated to new book purchases each year. And it was exhilarating. I also got to propose a new literary initiative to promote students’ love of reading–complete with school-provided incentives!
But being the official unofficial librarian also has its downsides. Like extra hours after school that are essentially unpaid. And also organizing our bookshelves.
If you’re a sidebar solicitor, you might have noticed recently the “Realms of Wonders” category list has begun to change–“Essays” is slowly vanishing (but not quite slowly enough) while new categories like “Poverty” and “Equality” have popped up. This, I’m afraid, is but a small echo of what’s to come–tidings of the new face of the Writingwolf that I simply cannot keep secret until the forthcoming reveal.
Category confusion strikes again!
However, instead of trying to subtly ignore these obvious alterations, I thought I’d take a moment to peer into the future (and look deeper into myself) and try to answer an important question that’s begun to bother me: Why are tags and categories all that important after all?
My childhood is pockmarked with memories of the Olympics. I especially recall gymnastics, figure skating, speed skating, and swimming–it seems like these are all the popular sports in my family. Fencing, archery, curling–these things were never as compelling. Snowboarding and slalom? We’ve watched a little of late, but historically, these four sports were the ones we watched religiously.
Watching the Olympics now has taken up more of my time than I think is wise to admit. I’ve not just watched the Olympics, though: I’ve also read about them, almost daily, in the news. Record-breaking scores and medal counts are amazing, and even when other countries win, I’ll still cheer for a good game.
It came in an article earlier this week or late last week that certain Londoners are feeling bad about their body images because of the Olympic athletes walking up alongside them and dwarfing all their scrawniness and flab. At home, I sit and watch and catch myself drooling at how remarkably in shape these guys are. It makes me feel my efforts are weak and insubstantial. But it also compels me to fight even harder to achieve my goals.