Fore.

Well...

I Recently mentioned that I had applied for two jobs.  In that post I was unusually positive, because I'm giving up negativity for lent.  Lent is not over, so this is going to be another unusually positive post.  I'm actually rather reluctant to make posts like this, because I'm really messing with the formula here.  If anyone comes here, it is not for positive vibes.  In fact, after all these years I've definitely frightened away anybody who doesn't have the patience to commiserate with a miserable sad sack.  If you're here, it's likely because of, not in spite of, the fact that I am a gigantic bummer.

So... my apologies to those who get a kick out of me being wretched.  But the good news is that I think this shift in attitude has been good for me.  I'm not wallowing in a pit of despair, for one.  For another thing, well......

I got an interview for one of those jobs I applied for.  First a phone interview, and then an in-person interview.

Now, I'm not saying this happened because of the power of positive thinking or any such nonsense.  But not being able to crawl into negativity has definitely made the experience much easier.

Typically I would have spent the entire time leading up to the interview freaking the absolute holy fuck out and generally having anxiety attacks.  Instead, I pushed those thoughts out of my head and told myself, "I know what I'm doing, I've got this."  Then I'd be freaking the absolute holy fuck out with self-doubt, thinking that I can't do this, that even if I get the job I'll only make a fool of myself, that I'll be forced to throw myself on a sword after my colossal failure.  Once again, not this time.  Just, "I've got this."  Worst of all, these self-doubts and anxiety attacks would have possibly lead to some form of self-sabotage.  I'll even admit I fleetingly had the thought: "maybe I should just turn the job down if they offer it to me."  I chased that one away fast.

The in-person interview was today.  It was the best in-person interview I've ever had.  I had an answer for every question.  My experience impressed them, and it seemed to me that more than anything they wanted someone with my kind of experience to come in and do exactly what I know can do-- and I do mean know, not just a case of telling myself it'll be ok this time.  My presentation went well--  everyone laughed at the right times and one of the professors even said I taught him a new trick with the databases.  I made what was, for me, an admirable attempt to mix in with the conversation and be part of the group.  I asked a lot of questions that they seemed to think were good questions.  The event was planned for three hours, though it was said that it would likely not go that long.  However, it nearly did, lasting 2 hours and 45 minutes.

So what I'm saying is, I brought my A game.

Interviews are like golf.  There's no defense.  Until I see the leaderboard, I have no way of knowing how the others are even doing.  I can't control for how well anyone else did, so I can't say I think it was a slam dunk or anything.  I may have just had my best in-person interview, and maybe the person before me had their best, and their best was a little better.  I don't know.  What I do know is that I stepped up to the tee and made solid contact with the ball.  And now I kind of feel like I can golf.

I'd been telling myself, in the spirit of staying positive, that this interview would be a good thing no matter what.  It showed me that if I cast my line, it's at least possible I'll get a nibble.  And this happened with one of the first two jobs I applied for after forcing myself to get back into the game.  Even if I had blown the interview, I would look at this as a positive (since, you know, I literally can't complain).

But I didn't blow the interview.  I hit the fucking golf ball.  So now the positive is that, again, I know I can do this.  I know that I can be lucky enough to get an interview, and then actually have a good interview.  Which means I can get a job in this field, with the right amount of luck.  That's my downside right now.

The upside.... maybe I'll actually get this one.

The location and the hours look wonderful.  I'd only be an hour away from my current home so I wouldn't have to never see my friends again.  I'd only have to work half-time in the Summer.  The city seems... not overly exciting, but most of my entertainment is indoors anyway.  The other people there seemed pleasant.  As long as that whole "having to throw myself on a samurai sword" thing doesn't happen, I'm thinking this would work for me,

So... here's hoping.

To win big just once.

About a month ago, powerball fever swept the nation.  All over the country, people said: "statistics be damned," and purchased a ticket to get in on the action.  I suspect many of them were purchasing a ticket not to win, but to dream.  They knew damn well there was no real possibility that they'd win this life-changing money, but for a week or two, they got to window-shop online for all the big-ticket items they'd buy, got to imagine their dream homes, got to daydream about paying off their debts and giving their nieces and nephews a chance to go to college.

After a long while of being unable to motivate myself to look for a job (and who wouldn't get burned out after 8 years of failure?), I've-- at least for the time being-- pulled myself out of the funk long enough to apply for two jobs.  In doing so, I rediscovered something I had completely forgotten about.  The powerball effect.

I know that the odds of landing any particular librarian job are near as likely as winning the powerball for me.  But still, I can dream.  Ever since applying for those jobs, I've taken to imagining what this life-changing windfall would be like.  I think about going home after a day's work to a small but nice apartment.  I open the fridge-- stocked with nothing but foods I like-- and prepare a nice but relatively fuss-free meal.  While waiting for it to cook, I walk to my absinthe fountain-- something I've always wanted but have no room for without a place of my own-- and slowly drip myself a glass of absinthe to unwind from my day.  I eat, drink, and enjoy what's left of my day while looking forward to the weekend when I'll have time to see my friends.

I even began window-shopping for apartments.  I looked online at pictures of one-bedroom places with reasonable rent, and imagined living in that space, imagined where my things would go, imagined meeting with the apartment manager, seeing the places in person, and trying to figure out if there are children in the apartments, since directly asking is illegal for some asinine reason (I'm not allowed to value quiet and sleep?).

I think about some friends coming up to my new place, bringing board games and being supplied with generous portions of wine, scotch, or absinthe, as desired, along with a home-cooked meal.  For once, my friends can come to me, and not always vice-versa.

Some people buy their dreams with a few dollars.  I buy mine with the time it takes to fill out an application and craft a cover letter.  I think my way is harder, and for a smaller dream, no less.  But I'm not here to complain about that.  Also, I would typically at this point say something about how my dream will go up in a puff of nothing just as easily as all those powerball players.  I would talk about that crushing moment where it's all hopeless again, at least until I can buy the next dream.  But I'm not going to do that this time, because I'm trying to give up my default negativity for lent.  So instead I'll say, maybe it will be this time.  Or the next.  And the take away from this for me is that, despite the likelihood of rejection, there is real value in my trying.  I spent so much time curled up  in a pit of despair that I'd forgotten what it's like to lift my head and at least look up at the sky above.  Maybe, knowing this, I'll be able to convince myself to keep trying.

I only need to win big just once.

A tale of two pities

For about two years now I’ve been writing about how my pursuit for a career has pretty much fucked my entire life up.  And yet, I keep trying to make it in my field, despite the universe telling me not to.  Part of the reason for this is that giving up completely would entail giving in to trying to find a few minimum wage jobs to string together until I can manage to make enough to live off, despite my student loan debts.  Indeed, it seems that life in America has turned into a “fucked either way” situation.

Allow me to compare the divergent paths of me and my best friend.  We’ll start with me since you know the story pretty well:

I got a 4 year college degree, went on to library school, got my MLIS, and six years later at the age of 31 I am living with my parents, still in no position to even try to make a family of my own because I’m making right around 10,000 a year while paying 280 and change per month for student loans that I’ll have for the next, oh, probably 20 years.

My friend, on the other hand, did the exact opposite.  He didn’t graduate from high school, and just went right into the work force the moment he could.  Fast forward to today, he is 31 and has a house and a family.  However, he also works 90 hours a week doing strenuous manual labor.  Here is a direct quote (well, not exactly verbatim, unless my luck is a statistical monster) that sums up his life:

“When I got home from work I fell asleep in the garage with the car still running and the garage door closed.  I woke up in time, but this is just what this job’s doing to me.”

My point, and what I consider one of the main points of this blog, and why I consider it important for me to be recording my experience for posterity, is this: this seems to me to be the choice most Americans have to face these days.  Those of you who found footing in library land before fate fucked it over: congratulations.  I’m happy for you.  But people trying to make it in the world now seem to have two choices: they can either come very close to killing themselves (maybe literally) doing nothing but work at a variety of low paying jobs like my friend, or they can take the gamble I took and invest a lot of time and money in a degree that gives them only a CHANCE to aspire to better.  If they’re lucky, that chance may pay off.  These people are not 90% of those who try, they may not even be the norm at all (a lot depends on the specific field they want, of course).  And for those who fail?  They can either give up and live like my friend (only with student loan debt and many good years of their life wasted), or they can do like me and toss aside any hopes of a family or an independent life.

And that’s not how things should be.  The choice should not be “90 hours of hard labor to make a life for yourself” or “gamble and pray you make it, and if you don’t, give up the hope of a family or independence.”

I’m not sure if I can pinpoint the exact moment the “American Dream” was butchered.  Obviously the big crash in 2008 was when the sword of Damocles officially impaled the Dream, but it had been descending inexorably toward its target since long before that.  Whenever it was, the end result is that anyone who hasn’t already made it (and was lucky enough to keep it) needs to be lucky to make any kind of life for him or herself.  And I’m not ok with that.  I’m not ok with losing my chance for a life when a pretty basic one was all I ever wanted.  Truth is, even if my luck changed and I made it in my field next month, it’s already too late for me.

Usually I try to wrap up with a line that, depressing or not, is mildly amusing, at least to me.  This time, all I have is “fuck.”

I have dignity. Well.... I know OF dignity.

I wrote previously in my blog about the unfortunate necessity for some people to don a mask during interviews.  How we obviously should be able to be ourselves for the best interest of both ourselves and the employer, but the reality is shy people would never have a fighting chance if we could be ourselves, so we have to fake it.  No matter who we are, we all go into interviews as outgoing, smiley, pleasant people who fucking love work more than we love food.

That was one example of how (without lying, of course) we do have to make believe things in interviews that we know aren't true.  However, there's another example of make believe that goes on in interviews, only in this case, BOTH parties know it's a lie.  This is the part where we ask the employer questions because "we're interviewing them as much as they're interviewing us."

Ask anyone for interviewing advice, and that's on the short list.  "Remember, you're interviewing them, too."  We are-- supposedly-- sizing them up, getting a feel for the environment, and deciding if that place is good enough for us.  The employers expect it too-- after all, if we're worth hiring, we can't be some desperate shlub, we need to be the cream of the crop.  They should be wooing us.

Look, I understand we should ask questions just because we should have some curiosities of a place we may potentially work, but when I have to make believe that I'm an indispensable talent who is taking my expertise only to the very best place of business, I feel like I'm insulting their intelligence and my own.

Maybe there are people in even the library world like that.  People with 20 years of experience who have run organizations, written books, given world famous (or, library famous) lectures around the country, and slain mimes with their adamantium claws.  And if any of that were true of me, it would be on my fucking resume.  Especially the claw thing.

No, I am most definitely and hilariously NOT in any position to "interview them as much as they're interviewing me," and it's laughable that I have to go through that charade.  I know it and they know it, but there we sit, both politely pretending otherwise for no reason other than blind tradition, or perhaps to give them something to snicker about later.  We in the library world-- all of us, you, me, and them-- know exactly how royally fucked our job market is.  I am in absolutely no position to turn down a full time job, no matter how terrible the place is, and I'd venture to say few librarians and NO new or new-ish librarians are.  If participation in their annual cactus hugging contest were a mandatory condition of hire, I would hug the crap out of some cacti and tearfully thank them for showing me more love than this career ever has.

I'm expected to work 50 hours a week for no extra pay?  I have to work mornings the days after working nights every single week?  Second shift?  You have a little asbestos problem?  I need to be on call 24/7?  Turning my grimace into a smile, I say sign me up.

That's life.  We're in an employer's market, and this is especially true of the library world.  They have the work force by the short hairs, if you can forgive an expression that makes me cringe as well, and most of us are in absolutely no position to "interview" them and say "ehhhh, sorry but I'm looking for something on a tenure track," or "oooh, sorry but I was kind of hoping for a liberal arts college that offers a few Master's degrees as well."  Yeah, right.

On one hand, it's not as unfortunate as having to pretend we're not the people we really are, and that instead we're outgoing, upbeat folks with a smile permanently on our lips.  But on the other hand, it is a bit more insulting, since both sides of the table know better this time.  These are desperate times and aspiring librarians are desperate people.  Can we just drop the act?  I'll still ask questions for curiosity's sake, but must I-- must I-- insult your intelligence by acting like I have any remote power of negotiation here?

I am your willing bitch.

Map to failure

When I started this blog years ago, I didn't know I'd still be at it by this time.  The mess of an economy I walked into has now stolen nearly six years of my life, and the meter is still running.  I have plenty more posts left in me, but as a placeholder until I have more time, I'd like to revisit one of my first posts.  I had a map where I was keeping track of all the states I got rejected from in my quest to become a financially independent librarian, declaring that my new goal was to fill it out completely, so that I could declare that every single one of these United States has told me individually that they want nothing to do with me (since the goal of gainful employment is unattainable for a librarian these days, I may as well focus on something doable).

After my hard drive died a while back I replaced that ugly map with a much sleeker one, now filling in a blank US map rather than crossing out the states in a full map.  It looks much better, I think.  You'll also notice it is now quite a bit more full:

I only have 18 more states to go.  As you can see, I can now travel the country from coast to coast in an unbroken path of states that have been specific about not wanting me to stay.

Some of these states will be harder than others.  Florida is not the hardest state to find openings in, I only need to find one I actually seem right for.  Montana, on the other hand, rarely has openings.  The hardest spots to fill, I think, will be:

-Montana
-Hawaii
-West Virginia
-Rhode Island
-New Mexico

Alaska might be pretty tough, too.  Florida and Nebraska are only a matter of time.

Top 5 uses for an MLIS

After 5 years now of having a Master's in Library and Information Science, and spending that much time and counting trying to get full-time (or even half time) employment, I have decided to put together a list of things that an MLIS can actually be useful for.  Here is what I've come up with:

Uses for an MLIS:

-Tuck your degree into your shirt before tackling a plate of ribs.
-Make an incredibly expensive yet stylish paper airplane.
-Wipe away your tears of failure.
-Glare at it while drinking alone each night.
-Give yourself a paper cut to procure the blood necessary to complete the ritual that summons Belphegor, ancient demon of greed, and beg him for a crust of bread.

What an MLIS is NOT useful for:

-Getting a job in the library field, or any field.

No end in sight to my suffering

It may seem like I've forgotten about this blog, but I do have more to say.  This issue right now is a combination of being very busy and being completely demoralized from losing all of the pre-written posts I had when my hard disk died.

So just to keep things going for now I'll address a question that no one asked: does anyone know about this blog?

Well, no.  I mean, like, no one at all.  I'm positive no one follows this.  Even people I know.  I've told some people I have a blog on this topic, but I haven't told them how to find it.  For the most part, however, I haven't alluded at all to the fact that I have this blog.  And that, of course, is a big part of the reason no one follows it.  I don't advertise.  I can't.

The thing is, I figure as long as no one who might ever read this knows who I am, then I'm free to say whatever I want.  If I were writing this keeping in mind that my friends, relatives, boss, co-workers, what have you, know about this blog, then I'd be keeping in mind as I write it who may be watching, and making adjustments based on that.  If no one knows, I'm free to say anything I want without ever even thinking about whether or not I should phrase things differently, omit things, etc.

so when will I ever tell people about this blog?  when it becomes a finished product.  that day will happen.  I don't know when, but it will.  It will be when I'm no longer a failed librarian.  And that'll happen either when 1-- I've found that full time job, or 2-- I've given up so utterly and completely that I'm no longer looking for library jobs or planning to ever look again.  If the former happens, I will no longer be a failure.  If the latter happens, I will no longer be a librarian.

When this is a finished product I will share it with the people who I consider it not inappropriate to share it with.

So if anyone was wondering if this very blog was one of the obstacles I've been having to getting that elusive job, hell no.  I'd rather every view be from a spam-bot than give myself away right now.  for now I write uncensored, freely, and (preferably) drunk on absinthe.

Idiot Wind

If I were trying to get to know someone and could only ask that person a single question, it would be “What’s your favorite Bob Dylan song?”

Bob Dylan touches a lot on the human experience.  It’s impossible to go through his catalog without finding something that really touches you, really strikes a nerve with you in particular, and seems to be talking directly to you.  For that reason I think that discovering someone’s favorite Dylan song can really tell you a lot about about them, what their experiences have been, and what kind of thing really strikes a nerve with them. 

Besides, anyone who doesn’t care for Bob Dylan probably isn’t someone worth talking to.

My favorite Dylan song is Idiot Wind (the original, from the Blood on the Tracks album).  Absolutely nobody can sing contempt like Bob Dylan and the way this song starts out is a good example.  But that’s not the main reason it’s my favorite, it’s just a strong supporting reason.  There are actually several good supporting reasons, but I’m going to jump to the main one:

You didn’t know it,
you didn’t think it could be done,
in the final end he won the war.
After losing every battle.

Every time I grab that album to listen to on the way to work I hear that song as though hearing it for the first time.  When it comes on I know I’m about to hear my favorite song by one of my favorite artists, and yet I always seem to forget that I’m about to hear that specific line.  And when I hear it, it’s all I can do not to break down and cry when everything it means to me comes flooding back.

For so many years that one line has spoken to me more than anything else.  It was my only hope, after all.  Life post grad school has been rejection after rejection after rejection, for years.  Every single battle lost.  It was always encouraging to think that it was possible, even after racking up nothing but losses, to win the war in the end.

My belief in that may be weakening over time.  Lately it seems like even if I do win the war, who cares?  I’ve been fighting so long that the end of the war isn’t going to be glorious or romantic.  It’s going to be missing limbs, misery, and unstable conditions for the region.  It has turned into the kind of war where no one wins and everyone loses.

After all, I already feel like I’m too old to still have time to get what I really wanted out of life, but can’t go for until my financial situation is in order.  I’ve probably already lost in life thanks to this career choice, but for some stupid reason I keep marching on in hopes of an eventual Pyrrhic victory.  What am I even fighting for anymore? 

My war…. what is it good for?

Positively positive

You're getting by now that I'm aware that I completely ruined my entire life with my horrible career choice of trying to be a librarian.  Yep, I am, no arguing there.  But in honor of Thanksgiving, I'm going to try to think of something positive to say about it.

The good thing about being a librarian is that the work itself doesn't suck.  Ideally.  I mean, no matter where you are, some jobs are just going to suck.  But if you can find a position that doesn't, it sure is nice to be able to help people and feel like you're doing something of value.

Before I embarked on this career, I couldn't fathom the idea of wanting to work.  It's something we do because we have to, not because we want to, right?

One of the things I learned in the management course in library school was that people are most satisfied with their professional lives when they believe that what they're doing really matters.  I had no frame of reference for that tidbit of knowledge to be useful to me at that time, but for some reason I remembered it when I was doing my fieldwork and a cartoon light bulb went off over my head.

The last job I'd had before my fieldwork was, embarrassingly, being one of those people at a busy intersection holding up a sign for a nearby pizza stand.  My entire job was holding up a sign.  I could have been replaced at any moment by a wooden post.  How valuable do you think I felt?

Then I got to do fieldwork and I got to help people.  Directly.  Even when it was something as simple as showing them how to print or explaining how to figure out a bus schedule, it made me giddy to know that people were presenting me with problems, and I was solving those problems for them.

Do I think I'll ever really accept that I have to give up the better half of my waking day, 5 days a week, to something else with no say in the matter?  No, of course not.  But for the first time I actually understood how working life could at least be bearable.  I realized how true it was that workplace satisfaction comes from feeling like your contribution matters.

The good news about the librarian career is that you do get opportunities to do things that feel like they matter.  So if it were actually possible for me to get fully employed in this field, I really would have something to look forward to.

Not only is the work itself not bad, but add on the fact that, while not many people will ever get rich in this field, librarian is a job that, for now, if you were to get it, you wouldn't be starving (assuming you're not living outside of your means).  Also, that was a lot of commas.

Put that all together and this is a career where I could put in a days work, come home feeling like I did something that mattered, and greet a spouse whom I do not argue with over money all the time because I do not have a minimum wage job that forces us to live check to check, paying off one credit card bill with another credit card, and never fully knowing how we'll make rent.  Instead, we live comfortably within our means and, though never rich, aren't constantly stressed out over money either.  That's a pretty damn good life.  In fact, I couldn't ask for better (I'm already assuming the spouse is hot.  With as hot as I am, it goes without saying).

That's the life I could hypothetically have, if only this profession, as nice as it can be if I ever make it to that side of the rainbow, weren't completely devoid of opportunity.  If only this career path had a somewhat reasonable expectation of job placement, it would be pretty sexy.

Yes, I'm thankful for the fact that librarian would be a good job, of only librarian jobs were out there.  I suppose that's about as useful as saying that I'm thankful for how delicious unicorns would be if only they existed, but hey, I said I was going to say something positive.

Would I change my path if I could?

Sometimes I sit alone and wonder about what could have been, about what could have changed or been done differently.  I found myself where I am by following the path of least resistance.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do after high school, so I took some scholarship and loan money to go to college.  I didn’t have a post-college plan, but I didn’t know what else to do, so putting the decision off for four more years was easier.  I chose a pretty not-outstanding major as far as jobs go because I still didn’t know what I wanted to do by my sophomore year.  That’s why, instead of picking anything practical, I picked what was interesting.  Everyone said I’d find out what I wanted to do when I got to college.  They lied to me.

Then came time to graduate from college, and the only exit plan I had come up with was “steal crap on my way out.”  It turns out that dry erase markers couldn’t pay off my student loans, however, so it was back to the drawing board.  Still no idea what to do, I kept going on the path of least resistance.  Library school.  Sure, what the hell, why not?  It didn’t seem like a hard job, I liked reading and libraries, and I didn’t know what else to do.  If I didn’t have such a horrific, paranoid fear of bugs, I honestly would have just been homeless by choice.  That’s how much I had no idea what to do.  Instead I chose library school, again doing the easy thing.

What if I’d done something different?  I still wonder what my life would be like—if I’d actually have one—if only I ever really wanted to do anything in particular.  If, instead of throwing a dart when I had to make a decision, I had been really into the idea of being a plumber, or dentist, or ninja.  If at any point in my life I would have had some burning passion.  Instead, I identify very much with the protagonist from Office Space.  We were supposed to imagine what we’d do if we could do anything we wanted for the rest of our lives, and that was supposed to be our career choice.  The problem is, there’s just nothing we wanted to do all of our lives. 

Don’t get me wrong, I do want to be a librarian.  I’ve enjoyed the work so far.  There are some parts I want to leave behind, and some parts I need to leave behind, and hopefully one day I’ll get the kind of library job I want so I’ll be able to.  But I do want to be a librarian.

But what if there had been a real passion in my life?  What if I were one of those kids who wanted to be a veterinarian from the age of 5 and worked my whole life with that goal in mind?  What if I swam against the current that took me to library school and ended up anywhere else?

The only problem is, even now when I try to imagine it, I can’t think of what that other path could possibly be.  The truth is, I never did have an interest in being a plumber or an exotic dancer.  What good is it to ask myself what I would have done differently when I still can’t even imagine how?  Even now I don’t know what my other option could possibly have been.  If I could hit reset and live it over again, I can’t imagine what I’d do instead of this.  

I guess it doesn’t help to imagine anyway.  After all, I’m a librarian.  I’m a librarian, writing this future blog post at 9:20 PM on a Monday, October 29^th, wrapped in a blanket despite being a little too warm, while avoiding grading some essays.  Just like I was always going to be.  And then in a few weeks or maybe over a month, I’ll post this. Whenever I do it, it’ll be when it was always going to happen.  There were different outcomes possible, but none of them were ever going to happen.  It may not be true that anything is meant to be, but everything that happens will be the only way it was ever going to happen.

I’ll never know what my other options were, and I was always going to be a hopeless, failed librarian.

Trial by telephone

Well, this is news I never thought I'd have to share on this blog.  Not sure if it's good news or not.

I'll open by stating that I was asked to interview.  You may have noticed in my last post that I only had 2 interviews in my field in 4 years, only one of which was for a full time job.  Now I have another.  This brings my average up to one full-time job interview every two years.

That's the good news.  Yes, one interview every two years is good news compared to what I've been through.

The bad news is that it's not a job I'm sure I want.

This is going to be a telephone interview, and the job would be in Wyoming.  Obviously I'm not going to be more specific.  I am going to be interviewed over telephone for this position.  I'm not sure at this point if it's a preliminary round and they're planning to ask the finalists to interview in person, or if this is going to be it for everyone.

As I stated before, I'm applying to every job I can.  I can't afford to be picky about location.  And boy oh boy, have I not been picky.  Every once in a while when I'm applying for a job, I am gripped by a feeling of dread.  I suddenly realize, "But I don't want to move there," or even worse, "I'm not sure if I'd really be right for that job."  

Maybe the former concern shouldn't worry me too much.  Do I want to live in Georgia, or Idaho, or Alaska?  No, not really.  But then again, I don't know what's there.  Maybe what I'm looking for is in one of those places.  I won't really know until I get there.  Maybe once I get there I'll find everything I ever.  (I didn't forget a word in that sentence, I'm just making a fairly obscure reference by omitting the last word).  Maybe. But just thinking about those places, they're sure as Hell not where I'd want to be if I could write my own ticket.

Then comes the concern about not being good enough.  I shouldn't let it get to me.  The history of my life has been a history of thinking I can't do something, and then doing it, and doing well at it.  And the job requirements are always worded to be much more dense and intimidating than the job really is.  At the job I currently have I found out about it from someone I knew, but I never saw the actual job description.  When they were hiring more people later I saw what the job description looked like and thought, "There's no way I could ever do that job."  But not only could I do it, but I was already doing it and doing well.  I'm pretty sure that job descriptions are written to intimidate you.

So maybe those doubts and fears shouldn't grip me, but sometimes I'll have both of them at once.

Do I want to leave everything I've ever known and move to Wyoming?  And for that job??  If I could be choosy I wouldn't touch that job.  Not even at all.  The trouble with Wyoming.... apart from the fact that it's Wyoming..... is that it's not a reasonable driving distance, even for a weekend visit, to anyone I know.  This isn't the kind of opportunity I'd choose to pursue if I could be even a little picky.

And that right there is the problem.  I've been forced into such desperation that I'm not only being forced to consider inconvenient options, but options that may very well be terrible for me.  That's life as an MLIS holder.  I sure hope no one going for an MLIS is holding out any kind of hope that they'll be able to stay with their family or even stay in their home state, or even close enough for occasional visits.  If you're going for an MLIS, I hope very much that you love the profession so much and are so dedicated to it that you're willing to accept terrible options just to work in a library.  This is NOT a career where you get to write your own ticket, you have to take what you can get.  Even something terrible.  Or, in Wyoming.

So I will be doing this interview soon.  I'm telling myself that even if I'm offered the job I can always say no.  But at the risk of harping on it too much: two full-time interviews in 4 years.  Could I really say no?  I have to admit that a not insignificant portion of me hopes to be turned down just so I don't have to make that choice.  And while I'm being honest about that, I'll also admit that I've held that same hope for probably more than half of the jobs I've applied for.  The hope that I'd be turned down, because no matter what I said above about why I shouldn't worry, the fact is that terror still grips me.  I apply because I have to, but it is very rare for me to apply for a job thinking "yes, this is exactly the job I want."  I don't have the luxury of applying only to those jobs.  Most of the time a part of me is thinking "well, it's not like I'll get it anyway...."

I am afraid.

The near miss.

With four years of unsuccessful job searching, there must have been some near misses.  Well, the closest I’ve come is the job you already know I have—I was actually hired for a job that makes use of my degree.  The only problem is that it can barely be called a “job” since I believe real jobs pay with money rather than “all the dry erase markers you can steal.”  I’m not even earning half-time pay (despite the fact that, realistically, I’m probably working at least half-time, if not more) or any benefits.  In other words, I still have definitely not found the job I need. 

Other than that, there was one time where I had an interview.  An interview for a real, full time, benefits-included job.  Strangely enough, this was within the first couple of months of getting my MLIS and applying.  I must have actually thought that trend of being invited to interviews would continue, but how hilariously mistaken I was.  In any event, I obviously didn’t get it.  They ended up wanting someone with more experience, and given that the only experience I had at the time was fieldwork, that was fair enough.    And that was it.  In the four years I’ve been applying for library jobs, I’ve only had two interviews.  Two interviews in four years.  If you thought I was overreacting by accepting myself as a failure, please try to imagine a world in which you get invited to an interview two times in four years while applying to any job you can, and tell me how much you’d believe there’s a silver lining if only you “hang in there.”  Bonus points if you imagine those 2 interviews were in the first year, and you have now gone 3 straight without a single employer even willing to talk to you.

At the time I looked at my rejection as positive.  I’m sure I would have enjoyed working there, but I took it as a life experience.  And the employer was quite supportive.  Since it was my first interview, I emailed him later asking if he had any advice or pointers for me, and he was happy to oblige.  Too happy, really.  We ended up talking on the phone after that for what seemed like ages, and he occasionally sent me emails for job opportunities he saw.  That’s the great thing about this profession—we’re helpers.  We fell out of touch after I got my current job and he no longer was worried about me, and at that point I wasn’t worried anymore either.  I had just taken my first step into the profession and would undoubtedly be taking more before too long.  I was where I should be at the time.

That was early September of 2009.  As I write this it is 2:49 in the morning at the end of September, 2012.  By the time I post this it will be quite a bit later (I wrote many of my posts out before I began this blog, wanted to make sure I had enough to write about.  I’m planning to post one per week, so this should show up at the beginning of October).  The job I took to pay the bills while waiting for the full time job to come along has been my only other interview and only job I managed to land.  The full time job never came.  Nor two part time jobs.  Nor did I ever get another interview again, not a single one in 3 years and counting.

Here I am.

Give Up.

Give up.  I will forever love The Postal Service for using that as the name of their album (and for being The Postal Service).  I mentioned before that this is what I’ve done: given up, declared myself a “failed librarian.”  So it may or may not surprise you to find out that I still apply for library jobs.  It used to be that I did so in genuine hopes of getting a job.  Now I do it because I at least have to try, even without hope, I have to try.  I’m paying 280 every month for student loan bills, and I’ll be doing so for the next 10-15 years.  If I didn’t pay for the privilege of being employable as a librarian, then by God, I paid to waste my time and everyone else’s by applying to those jobs. 

Besides, I have a new goal.  After all, I fail at my goals, so here’s one I can either succeed at for once, or be glad I failed at.  The goal is this: I’m trying to get rejected from every single state in the USA.  I want to be able to say, with more than just a hint of pride, that not one single state in this country wants me.  That I have asked to go to work for each and every one, and they have all told me separately and in no uncertain terms that I can fuck off in any direction of my choosing.

This is my progress so far:

You'll notice I've had a few rejections from Canada as well.  Canada is just a bonus.