People assume librarians are masters of the order of the Dewey Decimal, the wielding guardians of silent halls and sorted shelves. And sure, part of that is true. Some might even say, untungla jadi Librarian, boleh baca buku bagai… eh ko ni, kita tak ada masa la nak baca buku semua (sebab tu kita subscribe getAbsract, summarise je semua ni).
What people tak perasan is that the chaos we manage behind the scenes: missing books, metadata meltdowns, and users who still type “the whole questions” into search bars.
In that sense, I have never felt more seen than when I played Lost in Random: Eternal Die. It is not about randomness deciding your fate. It is about how you respond to the strange and often unfair tools life hands you.
Aleksandra is not a passive character waiting for a number to appear. She is a girl who was once a queen, now fighting her way through a broken world shaped by her own past decisions. The die in her hand is not about chance. It reflects what she has learned, what she carries, and how far she is willing to go.
That hit me. Sometimes it feels like we are trapped in our version of the Black Die. Life throws things at us that do not make sense. Loss. Mistakes. Silence. But we keep moving forward. We use whatever little voice or power we have. Like Aleksandra, we are not rolling the dice to see who we become. We are choosing what that roll means. We are equipping our pain, our joy, and our memory like weapons. Not because we want to win, but because we need to survive and make peace with the ruins.
That is why this game stayed with me. It reminded me that control is not about avoiding chaos. It is about facing it with the right tools and a bit of courage.
Chaos Is a System: You Just Haven’t Indexed It Yet
In the game, the protagonist Even journeys through unpredictable lands with a sentient die named Fortune. Nothing goes as planned, but she adapts, survives, and finds clarity in confusion.
That is not unlike library work. You start the day thinking you will catalogue a few journal titles, but suddenly someone’s locked out of their account, a database isn’t syncing, and an exec wants a 5-year industry forecast by lunch.
The beauty is learning to roll with it, literally. Every unpredictable task becomes a chance to regroup, reprioritise, and figure things out on the fly.
Parenting Is Like Random Dice Rolls (and Sometimes You Roll a 1)
I have three kids, and no user manual came with them. One moment, they are peaceful angels reading under a blanket. The next moment, someone’s crying over unplayable Roblox (aku blocked la apa lagi). Tak pon gadoh pasal youtube Channel, sorang nak tengok MiawAug, sorang lagi nak tgk Minecraft Channel – entah apa la depa ni semua???
Much like the game, parenting is all about responding to the unexpected. No guaranteed formula that will work all the time. You make the best choice with the hand (or die roll) you’re given.
Sometimes, it’s not about getting everything right. It’s about being there, ready to adapt, listen, and love even in uncertainty.
Librarianship in the Dice Kingdom
We may work in air-conditioned rooms and databases, but let’s be honest — a modern library is no longer about just storing books.
We:
- Fight for reading culture in an age of 10-second reels.
- Train AI models on curated knowledge.
- Run outreach events while updating MARC records.
- Explain for the hundredth time that “Google is not a library.”
In Lost in Random, Even finds her power in embracing the randomness. That’s the librarian spirit, too. Order isn’t about controlling everything. It’s about navigating the mess with curiosity, compassion, and maybe a few backup drives.
What the Game (and Life) Really Says
Random is not the opposite of order. It is part of it.
Whether it is raising children, managing knowledge, or exploring strange fantasy worlds, we are all just trying to move through chaos with a bit of grace. Some days you roll a six. Some days, you step on a LEGO. Both are part of the journey.
So here is to the unexpected.
To the librarians.
To the parents.
To the gamers.
And yes, to Milo, to chaos, and to the quiet joy of a shelf that finally makes sense.