Advanced Learning Library, August 2018 UPDATES!

I've now spent a fair amount of time in the new Advanced Learning Library in downtown(ish) Wichita, Kansas, and have acquired a number of updates to share.

I'm in the midst of re-reading my blog, doing light editing, taking some notes...and have found that above all else the thing I regret the most is the brevity of it all. Most of the libraries reviewed in Travelrogue were one shot deals; some were visited a mere couple of hours before I had to jet off to another destination. I would have loved to have spent real time in a lot of these libraries (though Pasadena and Seattle spring immediately to mind), primarily to get to know them much better, but also to relay more broad and solid observations in my blog entries. While some libraries suffer chronic ailments (Utah's Magna and Glendale, for example), other libraries that left terrible impressions (oy, San Bernardino) might've just been suffering a seriously "off" day. In most of these cases, I will never know. I have to acknowledge that it is unfair, at the very least. And that goes both ways. For all I know, Pasadena may have the meanest staff this side of Hell and a strict late fee policy or some other bad habits I would have no way of knowing since I never checked anything out there...or anywhere else I've visited, save the Wichita locations.

So, it's nice to get to update my observations a bit, as I've already done for a few of the Wichita-area locations (see Andover, specifically--what a change of heart!). After all, the only way to truly know a place is to spend some real time living in it, right? Plenty of Flatiron workers will eagerly tell you that while the building is super pretty and obviously striking on the outside, the inside is 98% garbage. The bathrooms are teeny tiny--some hilariously so, like you have to step over the toilet and, once closed, the damn door hits your knees--and are on every other floor (boys on the evens, girls on the odds). The finishing is pure rebate, on sale, cheap-o creep-o, mismatching crap, from the white, scarred walls to the industrial, metal door frames. Don't even get me started on the nasty carpet, made of squares so that stained patches might be replaced by new squares...had they actually bothered to stock them (they didn't). Before they installed replacement windows (ugly), the old windows let all the smut of the city blow in and coat everything in a film of black dust. And the "water bugs"--so, so many water bugs, a.k.a. Big Juicy-Yet-Crunchy Cockroaches everywhere. Scurrying on the stairwells, chasing people down the hallways. Falling from the drop ceilings.

I could go on, I really could. It was, in a word, gross. But do I still tell people I worked there? HELLS yes. Because nobody cares about gritty city truth. They just love hearing how you worked in a historic building. And I did, and it was at least interesting, if not entirely...sanitary? Professional? But then what in NYC really is? I remember similar "water bugs" falling from the drop tiles at my doctor's office once, so...yeah. And the same goes with visiting NYC in general, even for a week. You don't really know the city until you live there. Sure, you're surrounded by history with a wealth of arts and culture at your fingertips, but you do have to dodge and ungodly amount of poop on the sidewalks and, if you are really lucky, you may even get to dodge random pieces of paper floating through the air, whipped by the skyscraper wind tunnels and boosted by the subway trains screaming past underneath your feet. Papers smeared with brown something, papers darting directly toward your head.

A visit filled with cab rides tells you nothing about NYC reality, when you're earning your literal dimes and can't afford more than the subway (already an outrage to your bank account) and find yourself walking, walking, walking everywhere always because it is just less of a hassle and the trains don't really go east-west in Manhattan anyway (save one, a hellish ride). Or the fact that you have to carry everything, so grocery shopping is a revolving door because you can't carry what you need in one go, so you shop more than you want, and are sometimes stuck with some pretty vile options (e.g. one local store where a fly was packaged into the steak, nicely fat and juicy all squished up in there and proudly displayed, the whole place smelling of dead blood and Pine Sol). Or just the horrors you see. And you do see them, not every day, but sometimes things can get very real, and very ugly, very fast. Sometimes it's funny (the Fried Chicken Fight being my all time favorite) and sometimes you're getting assaulted in broad daylight on a busy street and no one is even looking at the spectacle, let alone helping you. That last one didn't happen to me, thank God, but it happened to a friend.

Now, if it sounds like I'm harping on NYC, well, yes. I am. Because visiting is one thing--staying in hotels, spending money on restaurants, plays, bars, shows, taking cabs hither and thither, and every day is just fun fun fun. The day-in, day-out drudgery is quite another thing...hour-long commutes stuck in a metal can that smells of mouths and armpits, working all day long and slogging home in a downpour with your broke ass black umbrella from the bodega, feet sodden, ankle scratched from some brush-by on the morning commute so you might have leprosy now, up to your fourth floor walk-up that costs $1200/month in Brooklyn (forget Manhattan hahahaha) and is about as big as the fanciest master closet you ever saw...on television...once.

(Let's be real in this side-side-side note: I'm harping because, quite frankly, I wasn't really into it from the start. I wanted to work in publishing and that is where the lion's share of publishing jobs reside. Ergo, if I wanted to work in publishing, I had to move to NYC. Which I did, and I worked in the industry for over 15 years. Don't get me wrong. At first I loved the new experiences--it was all very different from anything I'd done up to that point--but eventually things turned sour. The drinking was fun...until it wasn't. The job, until the very end, was always worth the price of admission, but to be perfectly honest I'd have been happier in the same job in almost any other US city. I got very tired of the "realness," too dependent on bad people, and started drinking myself into oblivion to avoid thinking about how miserable I'd become. It's not a place for everyone. And once the job was gone, and my head was finally on more or less straight, I left. And NYC, if it cared to say anything at all, would have likely brayed "And don't let the door hitcha on the way out!")

Cheese Grater = Electron Membrane 1

I don't think I'm going to experience anything of the sort during the time spent at the new Advanced Learning Library. Parking is easy (and free!), there are three different ways to handle returns (drive up window, outdoor slot, indoor slot), and checking out materials is such a breeze. I do proceed with caution whenever I need to use the restroom, making sure to check that I'm going in the right one depending on which floor I'm on, but I suppose eventually that habit will fall to the wayside. And the main artery traffic jams? I've run into them a couple of times, but more often than not I take the long way or avoid the first floor altogether. "My place" is on the second floor, now firmly set in stone in more ways than one.

I still use the study carrels, but have found that they are equally beloved by plenty of other people...most days, they are all taken by the time I arrive. That has never been a problem, since I pop over to the staff help desk right next to the carrels and ask to reserve a collaboration room. I've done it often enough that my regular guy remembers my name! And those rooms are very quiet...so long as the people in the other collaboration rooms are relatively quiet, too. One thing they maybe didn't think of was the transfer of sound from one collaboration room to the next. The sound barrier between the collaboration rooms and the library proper is solid, but it's less so between the rooms themselves. It's only been a problem a couple of times, and a mild one at that.

And when neither space is available? I set up shop in one of the many study desks available on either floor. Some of the desks are nested within the stacks, safely tucked away so that only people who are looking for those books in particular have any business being behind you. I'm in the business and job-seeking section as we speak, headphones on but nothing playing, and haven't been disturbed by anyone for hours. NICE.

I've also found solace at the very back of the Research Pavilion on the second floor. The views are limited, but there's hardly ever anyone back here and I don't have to put on headphones to block out immediate noises. And, for some reason, there is a New Friend on the study table I prefer to use...a Brother typewriter, looking all 1993 Fancypantsy. Bless its little clickity heart.

Even nicer? Things have calmed down a bit, I think. The drive for certain staff members to converse about whatnot yellingly out in the middle of the library has seemed to dissipate, thank the lordy lord. It's a generally quiet space, the electricity flows from every which way, the seating is comfortable and varied, and it is just a fantastic place to get some work done. Love, love, love it.

When I looked up the library to get the link for this entry, I noticed there were sixteen Google reviews already, all but one crowing compliments left and right, espousing all of the wonderful attributes of the new space and services, and showing the Big Big Love all around...except for one Giant Asshole who gave the place one star because "it wasn't open yet." I clicked the link and found a lot of similarly entitled, bitter reviews from this jerk, and all over the world to boot. I reported the review to Google, so I hope they take it down. It definitely qualifies as "off topic." Who gives a business under construction a bad review because they have the audacity not to be open yet, I ask you? A dingleberry. That's who. One star.

Over the month of July, signs started showing up in the foyer from the parking lot that explained the art around the building, so I've included some pictures here. Huzzah! Explanations are welcome. I'm glad to see the cheese grater better explained, but no amount of exposition is going to save the Knowledge Noodles. I am so sorry, but ugh. The execution is not successful, neither in the rendering of the bark/tree stand nor in the sizing/writing/reading of the scrolls. I miscounted the number of Knowledge Noodles in my first blog entry since I have spent zero time on the eastward facing "front" of the building. I think there are something like six of them out there. So, noodles noodles everywhere, all impossible to read without getting a headache.

The Avian Migration piece has been installed in the atrium. I am going to have to see it at different times of day and night for awhile before I have a real sense of how I feel about it. The execution does not match the rendering, nor do the pieces move much at all, though they are meant to react to sensors in different parts of the library. From what I can tell, they might as well be moving because of various breezes throughout the library. It is quite possible that the installation is not yet complete, though, so the verdict is not yet in. When I look at it, I can't help but think of the Filament Mind art installation in the foyer of the Teton County Library, made of thousands of strands of fiber-optics, all reacting to library search engine results. It's a visually arresting piece, not to mention objectively beautiful in a multitude of ways. I would guess that there is a vast gulf between the cost of Filament Mind and Avian Migration, and since Jackson is presumably a thriving tourist town flush with cash it stands to reason, but still I hoped for more. That being said, Filament Mind is robbed of some of its glory when daylight washes out the color effects, so perhaps Avian Migration will be better at night, too. I'll have to wait for the summer to pass before I get a real crack at seeing it in a full-dark setting (though a night drive-by this past Saturday showed the interior lit up like the surface of the chain-drugstore sun, so my hopes aren't exactly up). The actual materials used look like holographic. metallic airplanes, so they might react well to laser light, something any sketchy-mcsketchballs store on sixth avenue in the NYC "fashion district" can afford, so why not the Wichita central library?

Sunny day shot, viewed from the doorway.

The outdoor tables and chairs for the reading pavilion were finally delivered just recently--they were still in boxes last week, but they've got it pretty well set up now, umbrellas and all. It's still hot as Satan's taint in Wichita, as it has been all damn summer long, so I won't be wandering out there anytime soon. Much like the majority of the first floor, I'm avoiding the outdoor spaces for now. I did witness at least one dude smoking out there, so we'll see how that space turns out when the weather gets more bearable. Reading haven for all...or smoke deck for some? Do I sound bitchy? I sound bitchy. I smoked forever so I get to be bitchy. Like, it's hard, dude. So, smoke in your car, at home, or away elsewhere, just away from me. Because cigarette smoke still smells so delicious even though I'm 3 years, 11 months smoke free SO Y'ALL NEED TO GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME. Thbank, as we used to say in publishing.

Gray day shot, viewed from a collaboration room.

There have been some unavoidable hiccups transitioning from the old Central Library to the new ALL, but my firsthand experiences have been professional and impressive. I regularly check out a lot of DVDs (e.g. this past week's wonderful selections: I, Tonya, Space Camp, and Ferdinand, all fantastic) and some books (I checked out Ulysses because my self-hatred is a never ending river running under my soft and fluffy mantle, I am a Foole for the Ages and should stick my head in a dirty mop bucket and drown because Who, Exactly, Do I Think I AM, trying to read effing Ulysses?) and am a stickler for turning things in on time, so I was gobsmacked and ready to rumble when I saw that my account had a hold on it and a three dollar fine. EXCUSE ME, I thought, though underneath it (in the river of self hatred, whispering whispering) I did think I must've forgotten something, missed something, done something wrong. I looked into it further and determined the library was definitely in the wrong. I had the evidence of tomfoolery logged in my email (thanks to the Wichita library system's awesome notifications) and headed over to the ALL main circulation ready to make my case. The young woman behind the desk was remarkably friendly and chill, clicked through my record and said, yeah, we're behind with checking things in right now, so that's probably what happened. I'll clear your record. Like that. No argument, no pickle-faced suspicion, no static. Just NICE, under control, and professional.

I'm sure the staff has plenty of opening-blues stories, though I doubt any of them include water bugs or mismatched, half broken furniture from all the decades (ahem Flatiron ahem). I've witnessed some issues with the little iPad-type tablets they walk around with, signing in or securing collaboration rooms, for instance. And a few incidents and comments have led me to wonder about the leadership in general. People seem not to be informed about things that they should definitely know, and there have been moments where it was clear that staff did not know the proper rules and regulations for the space. There is a sense of detachment from responsibility and a disconnect from ownership. Not all the time from every person...just general and not really all that hidden. It reminds me of a time during my stay in publishing, we called it "The Regime"...and I really don't have to say much more than that, do I? I hope that's not the case here, but these less-than-complimentary symptoms are not a sign of bad staffing--the truth is that it is never the case--but of ineffective management. Whether it is due to fatigue, ineptitude, or malice, who can say. But ya knickers are showing, gorl. Get it together! Managing people is hard, especially a large staff. For this I have nothing but respect. But keeping people empowered with knowledge is paramount, especially when serving the public. I have to wonder if the draining days of drearytude in the old central library eroded that sense of purpose and drive to do the very best. The staff seems more than willing to shine, so give them the resources they need to do that! Hashtag HUGS, hashtag NOTHINBUTLUV, hashtag PEACESIGN.

Fargo Public Library, Fargo, North Dakota

There are places I know I'll never have to go to again—at least not by choice, and I would hope never by necessity, though I suppose you can't control everything (not that I will stop trying). Amarillo is one place. An ugly, racist, completely hostile and upsetting pass through was all I needed to secure that deal, but the place also had that scalped soulless feel to it that left me feeling grimy, heavy, and teeming with swirling unease. As I documented earlier in this blog, Barstow is definitely on the list. And now I can include Bismarck, though truth be told I'd probably find my way back just to record that creepy clock for posterity. But otherwise, bad vibes abound, so on the list it goes.

O! How I love a skybridge!

Fargo was a far better match for me—a nice mix of old and new with lots of charm in between. I was very hungry by the time I rolled into town in the early afternoon, so pulled over to check Google for "food near me." I was at my limit with the fast food and wanted something of substance that was truly local. By luck I was parked nearby a place called Luna, which touts itself as a "neighborhood kitchen." Having lived in NYC for 15+ years, I was familiar with its hype, hip to its jive, etc. etc. They have wine and cheese and a menu that changes daily—you get the drift. It was also located in a dilapidated strip mall, which upped the hipster ante to 11.

On this fine day I ordered soup—they had a fabulous chicken, bacon, and broccoli soup that was out of this world yummy. I even posted a pic via Instagram and Facebook to which my nearest and dearest commented ahem was this before or after u chucked it up. Everybody's a comedian! But I stand by the dish. The service was also wonderful, and the place was decorated with efficient simplicity. I felt comfortable dining there in my hoodie and exerpants.

The new Fargo Public Library is located in the downtown area amidst old brick behemoths and some fantastically ooogly bank buildings. The library itself, born in 2008, is a chic, modern, welcoming space with lots of natural light and bright color on the walls, upholstery, and fixtures. Once you are up in the main part of the library, it feels very open and airy, almost like a rooftop library, protected from the elements but open to the surrounding city.

The way into the main space is a bit odd, but I suppose someone thought it was a cool idea and who am I to judge. When patrons walk in the front door, they must go down a long hallway to get to the central stairway. There is a coffee and treat shop on this level, as well as a main circulation desk, art gallery, and other spaces I did not explore but did not seem to be open to the library main (e.g. meeting rooms, staff rooms, etc.).

On either side of the main interior doorway are brilliantly colored, tiled murals of sunflowers. I tried my best to capture them, but you really have to see them as you move through them, the way the tiles gleam and the colors glow. I would bet every kid who goes to this library is absolutely in love with these murals, and that their memories when looking back on the Fargo Public Library will be warm and happy, with mega sunflowers spilling upward and over every neuronal flash.

Upon ascending to the second floor, the library, too, unfolds like a flower, a chrysanthemum of different rooms, stacks, open spaces, lounge areas, and a long, deliriously abundant bank of desks up against the far wall. A glorious find. I spent two very productive days at this library, forgoing exploring any other branches since I knew I would pine for this one and all its lovely petals.

Main foyer and circulation, first floor.

Central staircase. You can see the gallery in the background.

I was criminally remiss in documenting the space I am describing, by the way. You'll just have to trust me (or check out online galleries) to get a sense of the Fargo Public Library's overall loveliness. It was, for me, a working library, where electricity and consistent wifi was easily available and I was able to concentrate with little to no distractions.

I think one of the things that helped was how they parsed up the main sections of the library so that they were not all intermixed and stepping on each other's vibes. The circulation room, computer room, and meeting rooms were along one wall, all glassed in and separated. while the study desks were on the opposite side of the floor. The stacks serve as a natural separator between the main thoroughfares and places where people require quiet. The children's section, easily always the noisiest part of every library, was sequestered to the first floor. In this arrangement everybody gets windows and nobody feels encroached upon.

You would be surprised at how many libraries do not do this. Many, many libraries instead embrace a free love approach to library design, where desks and lounge areas co-mingle unprotected with noisy, rambunctious computer bays and all in front of the kids section where screeching monkeys are hanging from the ceiling and clanging cymbals in a cacophonous orgy of "Community." A lot of libraries have few choices; being retrofitted to embrace new technologies, you have to make do. But newer libraries that forget their patrons needs (or God Help Them, think "open plan" is a fab idea we should all embrace in every space ever no matter what the industry) quite honestly have NO EXCUSE. Think of your patrons, dumdums. All of them.

Anyway, since I was in the same general area for something like 12-14 hours total, here are some shots of my views over those two blissful days at the Fargo Public Library.

Other impressions of Fargo:

Notice the hook haaaannnnnnd, aahhh runnnn

Not sure if this is something everyone does everywhere, but this is where I saw my first "Construction Man" made out of traffic barrels and cones and other construction materials. At first I found it weird but charming, but it gets creepier every time I look at the picture. I think it's because you are only supposed to recognize what it is in passing and you are never, ever meant to notice details. Do not stare too long at Construction Man. 

I also had the worst pizza of this journey while in Fargo. Though I am loathe to name names (Rhombus Guys), I am torn (Rhombus Guys) since it feels wrong not to warn others of the terribleness I experienced (Rhombus Guys). Here's what: sticking to my theme, I had the 8-inch margherita--a fairly simple pizza that should not be impossible to pull off. The place is known for its weirder selections, such as "Tater Tot," "The Angry Dragon," and something called "Blue Heaven," which consists of "bleu cheese cream sauce, steak, bacon, tomato, red peppers, bleu cheese, cheddar and mozzarella," a combination so rich and stinky I would have likely hurled had I dared to try it...so I know a simple margherita probably isn't in their wheelhouse. However. My pizza had nothing much on it: unremarkable mozz, dried husks of basil, and some oil (tomato what? I saw little to none of that). But somehow the whole middle of the crust was soaking wet. I ripped off the wet, doughy sections and ate what was left. The sad thing is that the bread was actually the best part, so it was akin to eating fairly good breadsticks once I managed to piece it back together. Not a good margherita, though, and it begs the question: If my simple pizza got soaked in the middle, what happens to all those overloaded monstrosities on the menu? Completely uncooked dough holding up a center filled with stinky grease? I guess we'll never know. But for this visit, I give (Rhombus Guys) two stars and big, fat "Yikes."

The accent. You know what I mean. We all enjoyed Frances McDormand in the movie. Including all restaurants I visited, my AirBNB hosts (great!), library staff and patrons, and convenience stores I patronized, I heard the accent exactly ZERO TIMES. Seriously. My conspiracy theory is that North Dakota—and especially Fargoans—got super self conscious about the accent after the movie came out and the rest of the country started mimicking it (how ya doin MaARRGe?) and they just forced themselves to stop talking like that. Which is a damn shame. Either that or the movie is a damn LIE, which just can't be true (if so? rude). I was genuinely bummed. I wanted to hear the accent. And don't play. People always want to hear the New York accent, the Boston accent, the Kentucky Fried Chicken accent. We all do it so don't even. [Postscript: I am ablush. After watching all available seasons of the TV show Fargo—checked out from my local library HUZZAH!—I now know that those accents were 100% Minnesotan, since that is where most of the movie's characters are actually from! Incidental research led me to the truth as we made our way through the show—great freakin show—so I seriously apologize to Fargo and North Dakotans in general. Hugs.]

Finally, North Dakota. It's a lot like Kansas, a whole lotta flat. But just like Kansas, those gleaming fields can be damn beautiful. A couple more shots, then on to the next...

Natrona County Library, Casper, Wyoming

Upon arriving in Casper, Wyoming I determined that a sit down dinner was in order, so I started Googling around to see what was what. I eventually settled on The Office, a bar and grill with a high star rating described as a "quirky eatery serving eclectic diner fare, beer & cocktails amid Hollywood memorabilia." One reviewer referred to the interior design as "interesting" so I was really looking forward to whatever "wild" and "weird" decor was in store.

There was literally nothing weird nor quirky about The Office, other than the nonsensical name that did not match up with the basic interior that looked nothing like an office. I'm not even sure I saw any of the aforementioned memorabilia, but then I kept to front of the restaurant, so maybe it was more toward the bar? The Office was a nice place, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't special in the decorative sense. In fact, the most special part about it were the cutie pie fishies in the gigantic tank in the hallway. See how the biggest spud turns to say hiiiiiiiiiii?

What a happy little face.

No filter can save me
from lighting this bad.

The service was great and the food was excellent. I had a beef gyro with fries and a Dr. Pepper. While everything was good, the standout had to be the fries. It's worth a shout out and visit just for the fries alone. And it raises and interesting point: Why can't all fries be this good? It can't be that complicated. It just can't. So what's the deal? Why are there so many substandard fries? If you're going to eat the garbage and risk the poundage, it should at least be a spectacular taste sensation. Otherwise you might as well get chunky eating Swedish Fish and Circus Peanuts.

Side Note: In honor of Halloween, just days away, can we all agree that anyone who hands out Circus Peanuts on this, the most sacred of nights for kids, might as well put a sign in the window that states I HATE CHILDREN DIE DIE DIE? Because there is no love in the Circus Peanut. There is only a doorway to an abyss where all light dies and everything tastes like licking your 98-year-old Aunt Gertrude's kitchen counter. Sticky. Dusty. Bitter and sweet.

After another stellar AirBNB experience (I had the  basement to myself and the bathroom was stocked with every fun sized shampoo, conditioner, soap, face creams, lotions, etc. etc. you could possibly need), I headed over to the Natrona County Library, right in downtown Casper.

First of all, I loved downtown and wish I would have taken more pictures. It was as though Brooklyn and Wichita met at the Wyoming State Fair, do-si-doed, then had a fat, gurgling baby named Casper. The cutest. There were lots of old shops with old signage mixed in with trendy new places. Somehow the old coexisted in a pretty equal balance with the new. It was refreshing and dear.

The library was a hot mess of pure unadulterated PERSONALITY. I knew I was going to love it when I saw its entire front face was a gotdamned curved wall. Girrrrrrl. And born in 1972 to boot, just like me.

In addition to being a Soviet Spaceship from Polaris 5, Natrona library was bustling with activity. There were people coming and going at all corners. This was a library living up to its best potential, with an invested, present, and needful patronage many libraries could only dream of. I usually prefer an emptier library, but that's just a selfish desire. When all is said in done, the sight of a busy library warms my heart far more than eight hours sitting alone with the books.

Ask me how many times I ran up and down this ramp.

My favorite part of Natrona was the foyer. "Foyer" is a small word. Maybe "Grand Concourse" is more appropriate? That outer curved wall carries on to an inner curved entryway, with doors at either end, and an insane, 70s-perfect display case and atrium extravaganza. Interior to the outside wall are huge plants that were popular in the groovier decades: elephant ears, mother in law tongues, and so on. On the opposite side of the walkway are display cases, uniform in size and shape, curving upward as the entryway ascends.

The Office, take notes: This is how you get down in dirty with the quirky.

There was also a Barbara Bush Reading Room, pictured below. I looked her up to find that she was born in New York, so I am not really sure why Casper has a Barbara Bush Reading Room (and there is no information on their website or in my Google searches)...except maybe they just really, really love Barbara Bush?

I sat near a back corner and did some work while I watched the clock, knowing I would have to leave by a certain time in order to make it to the next library before they closed. The art throughout the library was all about the Old West, with cowboys rustling steer, lots of lonely pastorals, and representations of Native Americans that were specific to culture rather than Western legend.

I tried finding information on the artist, M. Sheppard, but ran into a wall. Per usual, Natrona's website does not have information on the art displayed there. This is pretty standard for almost every library I've visited where an art credit was required. I'm just glad there were no paintings of cowboys and indians at war, shooting their guns to and fro, all looking happy to be there.

The back door, also fancy.