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I spent the afternoon arranging our books by size and color (and it’s so satisfying and looks amazing) and my partner came home and stared in shock at the bookcase and then said “i’m a librarian, you can’t do this.”
it has occurred me during this process that apparently not everyone thinks about books by what color they are? like, literally when i’m looking for a book, i picture it in my mind. i have a very…tactile experience with the books i read and idk! i thought everyone did that lol.
my partner was like “how will i find [this book] for instance” and i replied “easy, it’s purple” and he looked at me like i was a witch.
This actually is interesting in terms of information-seeking behavior, which is a thing librarians think about a lot and often actually study (some library jobs require you to publish, and academic librarians, for instance, will often use the students at the college they work at to study how they search for information in order to figure out how to best provide them services).
When you go for an MLS (Master’s of Library Science, which is a thing, and which is usually required for “professional-level” library work [which is also a weird and contentious concept that I won’t go into here]), one of the things you study is the organization of information. This deals with how to determine what a book or other material is “about"—a concept we tongue-in-cheek call “aboutness"—and how to convey that to a potential user of the item and make it easy for them to find. Things like keywords and subject headings, do I put this book about how often wild birds attack aerial drones in with books about birds or with books about technology, if its a fictional novel do I put fantasy in it’s own section or mix it in with all of the other fiction, so on and so on.
OP is organizing books by how they would look for them. OP’s partner is thinking in terms of aboutness. This is a system that works for OP because it’s their personal library: they know basically what books they own and they only own books that are relevant to them, and if they know what the book looks like, that can be a quick way to find it.
In a library that assumes the public (or people who do not own that particular collection of books) are using the collection, that doesn’t work. Books are often re-issued in multiple covers, or re-bound in new covers when they get worn out, and if the user doesn’t know what the book looks like or is expecting a different cover, they’re lost. That’s why non-personal libraries used standardized cataloging systems like the Dewey Decimal System or Library of Congress System to organize a book by what it’s “about”, and then put books about the same or similar topics together, marked with labels and signage so a person unfamiliar with the book or collection can find their way to it.
Basically, OP’s system works for their own personal library, because it’s best suited to how the primary user—OP themselves—looks for books. OP’s librarian partner is coming from a background of thinking in terms of a public-facing collection, where aboutness is the key criteria and communicating it to a user unfamiliar with the collection is the priority.
Cassandra: YOU ARE ALL GOING TO REGRET THIS SO MUCH YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW.
Odysseus: Regret it why?
Cassandra: You won’t believe me if I tell you. If I prophecy, nobody believes me. That is my curse.
Odysseus: … I’m Nobody. Fill me in.
*A couple of months later*
Odysseus: HELLO PENELOPE, I AM HERE PRECISELY ON TIME AND NOT YEARS LATE incidentally I rescued and adopted a Trojan seer while I was away, she’s great, got me home really fast, Cassandra this is your new mother who’s not going to treat you like shit.
Penelope: … I’m going to need more details, but okay, sure.
This website: "It says a lot about a person if they write or make art about dark, horrific things. It says what they're like in real life. Hiding in plain sight."
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Wrong: Ada Lovelace invented computer science and immediately tried to use it to cheat at gambling because she was Lord Byron's daughter.
Right: Ada Lovelace invented computer science and immediately tried to use it to cheat at gambling because that was the closest you could get in 1850 to being a Super Mario 64 speedrunner.
Well, yeah. That's why she received the unusual education which laid the foundation for her later discoveries in the first place. Her mother, Lady Byron, firmly believed three things:
It was her responsibility as a mother to ensure that Ada didn't turn out like her father;
Fundamentally, the thing that was wrong with Lord Byron is that he was a poet; and
The opposite of poetry is math.
Ada Lovelace's biography handily illustrates how well this theory worked out in practice.
i know this is tumblr and we’re all playing perverts but i just think some of you would be excellent company for a late night walk and a four hour conversation about absolutely nothing
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⤷ in which… you keep interrupting him with kisses while he's talking about his day. ⊹ ࣪ ˖
The apartment was unusually quiet.
Practice had run late, dinner had been eaten straight out of takeout containers on the coffee table, and now the rain tapped softly against the windows while the two of you occupied the couch.
Or rather… You occupied Atsumu.
One of his arms was lazily draped around your waist while your head rested against his chest. His shirt was warm from the shower he'd taken not long ago, and his freshly washed blond hair had already begun sticking up in every direction.
He looked unfairly cozy.
"...An' then Bokuto somehow convinced Hinata ta race him up the stairs," Atsumu said, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. "Coach walked in right as they started, an'—"
You leaned up. Peck. A tiny kiss landed on his cheek.
He blinked. "...Anyway," he continued, smiling despite himself. "Coach just looked at 'em like—"
Peck. The other cheek this time.
His sentence dissolved into a little laugh. "...Ya serious?"You simply smiled. "What?" "Nothin'."
He shook his head, trying very hard to look exasperated. "So, as I was sayin'..." He cleared his throat dramatically. "Bokuto nearly tripped over a medicine ball because—"
Peck. Right on the corner of his jaw. "..."
He looked down at you. "...Did ya just interrupt me?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "...Ya absolutely do." "I was listening." "Were ya?" "Mhm." "So what did Bokuto trip over?" You blinked. "...Volleyball?" Atsumu burst into laughter, "YA WEREN'T LISTENIN'!" "I was listening to your voice." He immediately stopped laughing. "...That's..." His ears turned pink. "...That's kinda smooth." "I know."
He pointed at you accusingly, "Yer dangerous."
He tried again. "So then Omi-kun—"
Peck. "Omi-kun said—" Peck. "Baby." "Hm?" "Will ya lemme finish?" You nodded very sincerely. "Of course." "...Promise?" "I promise."
He narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust that face." "My face?" "Yeah." "What's wrong with my face?" "It looks like it's plannin' somethin'." "It would never." "...Liar."
He took a deep breath. "ANYWAY." You giggled.
"Omi-kun said if Bokuto broke another piece of equipment, he was gonna make him clean the entire gym. Then Hinata started laughin', an' Bokuto got all dramatic, an'—"
You gently reached up. Brushed a strand of messy blond hair away from his forehead. He instinctively leaned into your touch.
"...What?" "Nothin'." He smiled softly. "...Keep doin' that."You smiled right back. Instead of answering… You kissed his forehead. Very gently. Atsumu completely forgot what he was talking about.
"...Uh..."He blinked once. Twice. "...Where was I?" "You were talking about Bokuto." "Right." "...I think."
He frowned thoughtfully. "Wait..." "...What was Bokuto doin'?" You started laughing. "Oh my gosh." "It's yer fault!" "My fault?" "Yeah!"
He poked your side. "Ya kissed all the thoughts outta my head!" "I don't think that's how brains work." "Well then explain why I forgot." "You have the memory of a goldfish." "I do NOT." "You forgot where your phone was yesterday." "'Cause it was in my pocket!" "Exactly."
Atsumu dramatically sighed. "I see how it is."
He crossed his arms. "I'm bein' sabotaged." "I would never sabotage you." "...Really?" "Mhm."
He leaned closer. "...Then why've ya kissed me..." He pretended to count on his fingers. "...Seven times?"
"Has it been seven?" "It has!" "...Maybe it should be eight."
Before he could react—Peck. His nose.
Atsumu froze. "...Ya kissed my nose." "I did." "...Ya never kissed my nose before." "I do now." "...I kinda liked it." "I know."
His entire face was pink now. Not just his ears. His cheeks matched the warm glow of the lamp beside the couch. "You keep lookin' at me like that." "Like what?" "...Like I'm cute." You stared at him. "...Tsumu." "What?" "You are cute."
He made the strangest sound. Half laugh. Half whine. "Don't say it so casually!" "But it's true." "...I'm supposed ta be cool." "You can be both." "...Can I be hot too?" "You are." "And cute?" "Mhm." "And funny?" "Sometimes, mostly annoying." "HEY."
He finally gave up on telling his story.
Instead, he looked down at you with the fondest expression you'd ever seen. "...Y'know..." "Hm?" "I really like ya." You smiled. "I know." "No, I mean..."
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly bashful despite the grin tugging at his lips. "I really, really like ya." His brown eyes were so bright they almost sparkled. "I get ta tell ya about my day." "I get ta come home ta ya." "I get ta cuddle ya." "...An' then ya randomly decide my face needs kissin'." "It does." "It does?" "Mhm." "...Why?"
You reached up and cupped his warm face between your hands.
His messy blond hair flopped over his forehead, hopelessly untidy from your fingers running through it earlier. His cheeks were rosy. His smile was so wide it made your own impossible to hide. "...Because you're adorable."
Atsumu's brain completely stopped functioning. "...Ya can't just say stuff like that." "I just did." "I know!" He covered his face with one hand. "I can feel myself blushin'!" "You are." "Stop lookin'!" "I can't." "WHY?" "'Cause you're adorable."
He groaned dramatically, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. "I'm never recoverin' from this..." "You'll live." “Barely."
You laughed quietly. Then, almost absentmindedly… You kissed his cheek again. Another peck. Then his forehead. Then the tip of his chin. "...Baby." "Hm?" "...Are ya done?" You tilted your head innocently. "...No." "...I had a feelin'."
Before you could steal another kiss—Atsumu suddenly lunged. "oof—!" He wrapped both arms around you, gently pulling you backwards until you both collapsed into a pile of blankets, your laughter filling the apartment.
"Tsumu!" "Nope!" He buried his face against your shoulder, holding you impossibly close. "Ya've officially lost kiss privileges." "I have?" "Mhm." "'Cause ya won't stop interruptin' me!" "But you weren't talking anymore." "...That's beside the point."
You giggled, squirming just enough to peek at his face. His blond hair was an absolute mess now, sticking out in every direction. His cheeks were still bright pink.
And despite all his complaining… There it was.
That huge, sunshine-bright smile. The one that crinkled his eyes until they almost disappeared. The one you loved so much. "...You're smiling." "'M not." "You are." "'M frownin'." "That's the happiest frown I've ever seen." He huffed dramatically. "...Fine." "...Maybe I am."
He looked at you for a long moment. Then smiled even wider. "...Can't help it." "Why?"
He squeezed you tighter, as if he was afraid you'd somehow drift away. "'Cause I'm holdin' my favorite person." Your heart melted. "...You're so cheesy." "I know." "...Hopelessly cheesy." "I know." "...Ridiculously in love." His grin turned soft. "Mhm."
He nudged his forehead against yours. "An' I'd choose ya..." He pressed one tiny kiss to your forehead this time. "...Every single day."
You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. "...You finally got to kiss me back." He gasped dramatically. "...WAIT." "...I WON." "You won?""I got the last kiss!" You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the couch.
Atsumu laughed with you, bright and loud and wonderfully unrestrained, the sound filling every corner of the apartment.
He'd completely forgotten the story he'd been trying to tell. Neither of you cared. Not when the rain was falling outside. Not when you were tangled together beneath a blanket.
And especially not when Atsumu Miya looked at you with that impossibly jolly smile—as though, after everything volleyball had given him, coming home to you was still the very best part of his day.
─ ⟡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ a note from aika! tysm for reading!!! yes gawd damn I HAD to repost this because TUMBLR FRIGGIN LABELED THIS AS MATURE CONTENT LIKE WHAT NO??? and the problem WAS MY FRIGGIN HEADER like OMG WHY??? anyways thanks for reading!!! this idea randomly popped to my head when I was thinkin bout how adorable atsumu's smile was LIKE UGHH so cute and I honestly rushed this SO IM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES!!! I miiiiiight write an osamu version... Maybe maybe... WELL YEA TYSM!!! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
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My woke take, as someone who has worked in both a public library and a school library, is that we desperately need both more books that are at a higher reading level but a less mature subject matter, and more books that are at a lower reading level but a more mature subject matter, because 8 year olds who are advanced readers are still 8 year olds and don't want to read about graphic violence and torture, and teens and adults who have learning difficulties or who are just later readers for whatever reason are still teens and adults and don't want to read about Billy the Bunny going to school or whatever the hell.
Shoutout to people in the notes also mentioning people learning the language, I should've mentioned that really, given that I've been stuck reading German picture books myself while learning German.
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