Epilogue

"God makes hungry.  The devil thirsty. [...] Well, folks, I guess many in this fine hall are as hungry and thirsty as me, and I'd better stop, folks, right here.  Yes, better stop.  My notes and my self are petering out.  Gentlemen, I have suffered very much, and more than any of you can imagine."
-From Pale Fire

Fitting for me to wrap things up with a quote from my favorite author, the one whose writing inspired a love for the printed word so deep that I became a librarian, and this blog was born.

I now consider this blog to be a finished product.  There won't be any more posts.  It was about the struggles of trying to become a librarian, and it lasted far longer than I thought or hoped it would.  But that part of my life is behind me now.  That is, unless I get laid off in a few months and need to begin my search anew, but we'll just imagine it's not likely.  I feel that this is a good way to bookend the blog; my second and penultimate posts are titled "Give Up" and "I gave up," respectively.

Now I suppose to sum up.  I finally made it, I'm a librarian.  It happened just 3 months shy of my decade anniversary of receiving my MLIS.

To review, what was the cost of this MLIS?

--10s of thousands of dollars of debt, between undergrad and grad school.  I think it began in the low 40,000s, and is currently at 11,500.

--Losing out on a decade of my life.  A decade I was unable to live independently, meaning a decade I was unable to do various things in my personal life that were important.  Things that I have a greatly diminished ability to do now that I'm 35, as those activities were much more suited for people in their 20s.

--Had to move to literally the other side of the country, nearly 1,000 miles away from everyone I know, to a state where like-minded people are harder to come by.

--Earning a salary that's a bit on the entry-level side.  My dad made significantly more just being a mailman.

I don't mean to sound unhappy, so I'll also list the positives:

--I like every single person I work with.

--I'm doing a job that feels meaningful.  I get to do something that makes a positive difference in the world, rather than toil away just to make a rich asshole richer.

Those two things matter, and they matter a lot.  I'm not at all unhappy in life right now.  But you can find those things in jobs other than librarian.

In the end was it worth it?  Absolutely not.  I fucked up my life for library science.  I lost the best years of my life waiting for something to come together for me.

Would I recommend an MLIS to anyone?  Absolutely not.

Would I, in fact, actively discourage people from pursuing an MLIS?  A little.  I recognize that no one can predict the future.  When I was in grad school they were predicting a huge boom for library jobs soon after I was scheduled to get my degree, and look how that worked out.  But still, I think a huge fall is much more likely in this field than a huge boom, and I would likely at the very least give the same advice I would have close to the start of this blog.  You had better be passionate enough that you're willing to make sacrifices and spend a good long time living the starving artist life.  If you're not, I highly recommend fucking right off, for your own sake.

Would I do things over differently if I had the chance to turn back time?  Yes, I would.  I would absolutely choose a different career.

But am I happy now?  Yeah.  I mean, I guess ask me again when I'm 50 and still never got what I really wanted out of life because I started too late, but right now I'm happy.  I've made a life for myself, albeit very late, and I'm doing something worthwhile with good people.

For posterity, here is the map I had been working on of my application attempts in its final version.  I failed to achieve my goal of being rejected by every state in the union, but I came very close.  Maybe someday...

On a final note, I posted on a librarian forum about me getting the job after nearly a decade.  I was shocked to see people telling me that yeah, that sounds about right.  I know the field is in poor shape, but I thought my case was exceptionally bad.  Sadly, I was wrong.  A few people told me that it's exactly normal, and absolutely no one tried to tell me I was just especially unlucky, and most people fare better.  Not one.  I submit that, while it's obviously possible to do better, it's also not incredibly unusual for things to go just about this badly.

On another final note:  I reread over my old posts.  There are some very, very dark turns in here.  I was depressed through some of this, and when I was, it showed.  I can't even remember what it feels like to be so miserable, and thankfully I haven't felt that way in some time.  When I look back on it, it's actually scary to see it.  It's a great relief to know I made it through all of that.

Happy trails to all, thanks everyone who read.  Most people finish novels faster than I finished this blog, but at least it finally happened.  Goodbye and good night.

The ugly wall.

An update from my last post to begin:

First, I did not get that job I mentioned I'd applied for toward the end.  I did apparently do well enough to get an in-person interview and for them to ask me to consent to a background check, but it was just another case of "close but nothing," and as we know, close doesn't count for anything.  All nothings are equal, no matter how close to something that nothing was.

But the "good news" is that I actually do have a section of my usual job to teach after all; a section got added three days before the start of the semester, so I got it.  It's not going well for various reasons that I suppose would be tangential to get into, so I won't.

What I will get into is another reason I said "good news" in quotation marks above: namely, the fact that this job is no longer a sustainable option for me.

Now that they got rid of one of the two courses I'm qualified to teach, I can no longer count on this job to keep me in the black.  Time was that I could usually count on two sections per semester, and now I'm lucky if I get one.  Getting one is by no means guaranteed at all, and even if I were lucky enough to get just one per semester, that does not keep me in the black if I want any kind of entertainment budget.

I still have enough savings that I can keep this rate of pay up for quite a while, but I really don't want to see myself hemorrhaging all the safety net money I've worked so long to shore up.

So this brings me back to that age old question I've been asking myself ever since I began this blog in 2012: when do I finally stop throwing good years after bad, accept that it's time to walk away, and find some crap low-pay job that at least pays better than the job in my field I have now so I can join the ranks of the working poor where I clearly belong, according to the library profession that will not have me?

If I were smart, clearly I would have done this years ago.  But here's the thing.

I'm going to take you back to a time long ago, when I was in high school.  I don't like going back to this time, so I will try not to stay long.  But here's a story that relates to the problem I have today.

In high school, I had a friend.  I know, I'm surprised too.  Let's keep going.  I'd walk home from school with this friend every day.  I was about a 12 minute walk from home, and for him tack on another minute or so.

This friend started dating someone.  So it goes.  One day he told me he'd be out soon, that I could wait for him.  He was going to make out with this person in the cafeteria, where people cooler than me often hung out at the end of the day.  I didn't understand why the cool kids wanted to hang out at school of all places when the day was done, but whatever.

So I'm sitting at my locker, non-existent butt aching from the hard tile floor,  staring at the very ugly wall in front of me.  For 15 minutes.  20.  30.  45.  An hour.  Longer.

I don't remember how long I ended up waiting, but it was long enough for me to be justifiably mad.  He never came out to tell me, "just go on without me," because he figured that after 10 minutes I'd have figured that out for myself.

The problem wasn't that I was "too stupid" to figure out myself that I should just walk the 12 minutes home alone, like that's a big deal.  The problem was that I was always afraid that if I left, it could be literally three seconds after I walked away that he might have come back out of the cafeteria.  And every second longer I stayed, the more likely it was that the next second would finally be the one.  It wasn't that staying was the "smart" move, it was just the fear that, after having invested so much time into waiting, I could be throwing that away when just one more second might have made all of that waiting, while a waste, at least not a complete waste.  At least all of the time I'd spent staring at the wall wouldn't be for nothing.

That's where I am now.  I'm 34.  I've lost.  I'm too old to accomplish the non-career goals I had in life (which were more important that my career goals to me).  It's over.  My life is ruined because of all of this waiting for my MLIS to pay off so I could finally pursue those goals.  At this point I should probably just cut my losses, join the working poor, and while away the end of my life because there's fuck else for me to do.

Yet here I sit staring at an ugly wall, because if I walk away now, I'll never know if waiting just one more month would have finally made all of these years something less than a complete waste.

The happiest of holiday news...

My situation for the past 6+ years has been that I’m a severely underemployed librarian; I teach info lit as an adjunct and make just enough to cover gas, car insurance, and student loans with a little leftover for a CD (because I’m old) or a bottle of scotch (because I’m awesome) or whatever now and then.  Meanwhile I'm living with my parents at 34 because after that I have not enough money left for food and rent because my life choice to be a librarian was terrible, which is what my entire blog is about. 

OK, so my situation has changed.  For the next 4 months of my life (at least) I am not an underemployed librarian anymore! No, I’m just straight up unemployed now, and just in time for the holidays.  Yeah, so that has now happened.  There wasn’t room for me on the schedule for next semester.

To be clear, this is not because of my performance.  As far as adjuncts go, I tend to be taken care of, in part because my boss is nice and knows my life sucks, but also in part because I’m actually pretty darn good at what I do.  No, the enrollment just wasn’t high enough and the full timers need to be put on the schedule first, so I’m out.

And now I get to figure out what to do for four months, and this is not wonderful.  My options for employment outside of my field are just about as good as options inside my field, which is one of the several reasons that supplementing my income with another part time job hasn’t been an option to begin with.

Problem one: I am a very small, weak person.  Last I stepped on a scale, I was 108 lbs of nothing that even remotely resembled a muscle.  I have a frame and a back that were simply not designed for digging ditches, hauling pig iron, or pulling rickshaws.  Hard physical labor is not an option.

Problem two: I have very little in the way of experience in anything outside of my field.  An office job would be doable—in fact I kind of enjoy mindless data entry.  But how often exactly do you see office jobs that don’t require years of experience?  I do have a couple years of very part-time experience in an office, but that organization has since folded (not my fault, promise), and my old boss is, um, probably dead.  That was not a joke, by the way; I think she literally died.  The organization was the two of us—her as the executive and me as the assistant—so there’s really no one around to prove I ever did it, much less speak to whether or not I was any good at it.

Problem three: I can also cross giving blood off the list.  I looked into it and you apparently need to be at least 110 lbs, and you can refer to problem one to see why that’s a no go.  That’s right; I’m not even qualified to give blood.

So I’m seeing three options in front of me.

Option one: Coincidentally, before this crap went down I applied to another crap, no pay, horrible hours job in my field that would put me behind a reference desk in an academic library, and I just had a phone interview that wasn’t a disaster as far as I could tell, so maybe I’ll get this job.  Putting aside the hours that will see me being awake for 18-19 hours straight on Sundays and then driving home at night in that sleep deprived state, this would actually be pretty great in the fact that it would give me more varied experience for my resume.

Option two: Cashier.  I wouldn’t be making much money, but “literally better than nothing” is pretty much my only salary requirement right now, and this is something I could physically handle that wouldn't necessarily require a lot of experience.  I would not love this job, but a librarian’s gotta do what a librarian’s gotta do (and in most cases this means “anything but actually be a librarian”).

Option three: Start studying science.  Master the field.  Invent a time machine, go back to me at 22 and tell myself, “DON’T BECOME A FUCKING LIBRARIAN.”

String beans to Utah

This will be a short update.

I said last time (and surely you remember what I wrote 4.5 months ago...) that I was planning to get back to the good news.  I let it get so long because I was hoping if I waited I'd have even more good news.  Well, that didn't happen, and then the news that felt good at the time stopped feeling all that great.

Anyway.  The good news is that I had some more interviews.  In the span of just a few months, I had three whole interviews, and two of them went well.  Well enough that in another universe somewhere, I may well have gotten those jobs.  The third one, eh, not quite as great (I didn't get past the phone interview), but it wasn't a disaster and it was an interview.

What that means is that in just a few months time, I had more interviews than I'd had in any one year ever since that fateful day when someone handed me an MLIS and, somewhere, I heard thunder and and what sounded like distorted, mocking laughter.  "This is good news!," I thought.  At this rate, I may well have a job soon.  I'm finally starting to see the opportunities I should have been seeing six years ago or so.

But then after that, nothing.  And I don't mean nothing as in I haven't been getting interviews.  I mean nothing as in, I can't even find jobs to apply to anymore.  I keep looking regularly-- a few times a week I'll look over my websites and see what's been posted.  Always the same: a bunch of part time jobs in far off states that I couldn't afford to take even if I got them.  Jobs I have no experience with (i.e., anything public.  These jobs usually fall in the former category as well).  Jobs I wouldn't take with a gun to my head (i.e. anything working with children.  These jobs usually fall in the former category as well).  So, nothing.  I don't believe I even applied to a job since maybe July or the end of June.  There's just nothing I can apply to.

Weird year.  I have a lot of success (compared to what I used to have), but it's all clumped together in one short stretch so for two months I feel like I'm awesome, and the rest of the year just feels desolate as hell.

I was thinking hey, at least on average this year has been better, so maybe next year will be too.  But given recent events, I have little hope for the economy for a while, so.... fuck, maybe I'm just nearing the time I finally go ahead and pull the trigger on giving up for good.  I think I'd make a pretty good trucker.  In any event, I have a lot to figure out moving forward.

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.

This library-land is made for you and...........

I probably said at one point that this blog would still be active, and I didn't want it to become one of those blogs to update every six months just to say "sorry I'm not updating, but I promise I'll start again soon!" only to go silent for another six months, and repeat.  Did I ever actually say that though, or did I just think it?  Either way, I was hoping for that not to be the case with my blog, and in my defense I meant it at the time.  The follow-through has left something to be desired.

Anyway, I'm not going to make excuses.  I'm also not going to promise to write more from now on.  The reason I haven't been writing all this time is, frankly, I feel defeated.  I've just come to accept that this will be my life, and all I'm doing is wasting my time when I try to find full time work.

Every now and then I'll see some fresh-faced fuck (sorry, but allow me to be bitter.  I've earned it) complain about how it took them a whole six months to get a job out of grad school, and I'll think my 6+ years of teaching info lit should damn well count for something and I should be able to get a job within just a few months too.  And then I'll remember how utterly devoid of hope the last six years have been, and just...................

How can I not give up?  Clearly I lack something.  I'm always assured that I'm a fine candidate, but, "there were just so many applicants, is all.  Sorry about your damn luck."  But can it really just be my damn luck when people are getting jobs so soon these days and I still can't?

I've been worn down.  I've lost the will to fight.  I've even lost the will to fight back.

I don't remember the last time I looked at the want ads.  Maybe October?  November?  It has been a while.  Even when you're starving, there are only so many times you can open a pantry that you know for a fact to be empty.  That's exactly what it feels like I'm doing when I look at the want ads these days.  After opening that pantry door so many times, I've just learned that it's empty and there's no sense in opening it as if I expect a jar of peanut butter to have spontaneously appeared.

So that's why I haven't been writing.  My motivation to look for work and any feeling of connection I have to this field is slipping more and more with each passing year.  I'm telling myself I'll write more, just as I'll look at the want ads more.  I'm not going to make any promises, though.

I wish I could just forget it all.  Be done with it.  I have a car that runs and I have a box of Woody Guthrie albums.  What else would I even need, if only I didn't need to worry about money for food and gas and student loans and another car for the day the one I have doesn't run any longer?  If it weren't for those needs, I'd say fuck it, get in my car, and spend a few years exploring that ribbon of highway I've been hearing about.

I want to see the desert.  I'm sure there's more for me out there than I've come to find in library-land.

So this is the new year. And I don't feel any different

2014 is sputtering out its last gasps.  By the time anyone sees this, it will likely be 2015.  Another year ticks by with nothing to show for it but lack of opportunity and failure for the very few opportunities I did have.

The end of the year is doubly a symbol of failure for me, because it's not only the end of a calendar year, but the end of another year of my life.  I was born on December 28th, 32 years ago now.  As another year passes by for the earth, so too does a year of my life go by in almost perfect unison.  So now, as I type this out two days after my birthday and two days until the new year, I can say that both of these cycles have been completed once again without me seeming to be even one step closer to being anything, anywhere, to anybody.

I've mentioned before that I'm a failure, and as much as I try to move forward, the light never changes green for me.  Year after year, I'm seeing red.  Farewell 2014, another pointless waste of a year being shaved from my life with nothing to show for it.

As a point of habit, I've never celebrated New Year's eve.  For one thing, I don't have the kind of social circle that gets me invited to parties.  Big shock, right?  And for another, I've always resented holidays that are used as an excuse to drink.  I'm a fucking adult, even if I don't live like one, and I don't need someone to tell me when is a socially acceptable day to drink if I want to.  So while everyone is out drinking and making out with their significant others (or closest strangers) while listening to a song by a poet they all REALLY ought to learn more about (fact: Robert Burns is better than you), I will be here in my basement, playing video games, and probably not noticing when the clock spins to midnight.

It's lucky that I've never felt an urge to celebrate the new year.  Because if I ever had, I sure as hell wouldn't want to now.

I started this blog as a 29 year old living in the basement of his parents, and now I'm a 32 year old living in the basement of his parents.  Not a 32 year old who dropped out of high school and has spent the last 17 years doing drugs, but a 32 year old who spent until 26 getting an education, getting a Master's degree, and then finding out what was supposed to be a practical, employable Master's degree wouldn't even make good kindling.  And this basement is fucking cold.

32 is the year that you're officially old enough that it's hard to remember your age.  30 is easy because it's the big 3-0.  31 is easy because "holy fuck, I've gone a year past the big 3-0 and I still don't have my life together!  32 is when you stop counting because it's all just too God damned depressing.

A benign year for me.  A malignant year for the earth.  Progress happening for neither of us as we race to see who passes away first while looking back on what we've done to confirm that it was all a huge mistake.

I think, therefore I am sad.

Since this blog is about me being a failure, it is long overdue that I talk about what exactly I’m failing at.  You know what it is in general—I’m trying and failing to be a librarian.  But I can be more specific.  Here are the kinds of position I’m open to:

On the academic level: instruction, reference, and collection development are the places I’m aiming.  Sometimes a position will be jazzed up with a title like “E-learning librarian” and will have maybe an additional duty or two, but this is what I’m experienced in and know I like.

On the public level: reference… aaand that’s pretty much it.

Then there are my “hard limits,” jobs I will never apply for.  These are: archivist, children’s librarian, and cataloging.

Why I want the stuff I want: as I said above, I’m experienced in instruction and know I like it.  Same with reference and collection development.  I don’t have anything against something like acquisitions, nor do I think it would be very difficult to pick up, but my overall lack of experience really precludes me from being able to apply.  When I was doing fieldwork 6 years ago I dabbled a bit in it, but I couldn’t even tell you the name of the system I was using at this point.  The most I’d be able to say to an employer is “I dabbled in it many years ago and I’m sure I can do it, but I don’t have any recent proof of that.”  So, that’s out.  Instruction is really the only place I can boast a lot of experience.

I fell into instruction partly by chance and partly by choice.  When I was in library school my plan was actually to become a reference librarian in a public library.  Finding answers to random questions and dealing with weirdos all while being paid, what more could I ask?  Then came time for me to do fieldwork, and I went immediately to the nearby public library and told them I’m available for free labor.  Their answer: “no thanks.”  Yep, I even failed to GIVE AWAY my free labor on the first try.  They told me they were too busy to deal with me and I’d have to try someplace else.  I didn’t have a car yet at this point, so my options were fairly limited.  There was only one other library I wouldn’t need to bus to, and in fact it was much closer; just a quick walk up a short hill, maybe 5 minutes walking.  The only problem was this was an academic library, which wasn’t where I had hoped my career would take me.  However, I figured the reference experience I’d get there could translate to working in a public library, so I went ahead and asked.  As luck would have it, they were only too happy to help!  I enjoyed my time there and am still in contact with several of them today, and all of them are happy to be strong references for me.  So, you could say that worked out.  What also “worked out” is that I had an opportunity to get a taste of instruction there, and it immediately become my thing.  Perhaps (if I haven’t already—I don’t even remember) I’ll follow up with a post on why instruction turned out to be the path for me.  We’ll leave it here for now and move on.

I consider myself to have lucked out there, not only in discovering the niche I was best suited to, but also because instruction affords me MUCH more opportunity than public reference does.  Part of the problem with many librarian positions is, since our field is now F’d in the B, so many positions have been combined and blended together.  This often means the blending of something I can demonstrate an aptitude in (reference) with something I have no experience or even knowledge of my own aptitude in (cataloging, adult services, youth services, take your pick).  In all of my searching in the last year, I think I may have seen one posting for a public reference position that was full time and was actually just reference.  To just teal deer that for you, so many positions have been merged together that I (and I’m sure countless new librarians) are having a harder time finding a position, not just because there are less jobs, but also because things they had experience in are being merged with things they don’t.

As another example, I think I’d make a good teen librarian.  I love graphic novels, video games, and John Green.  That’s what you could call a good start.  That and I’m familiar with YALSA, of course.  But more and more I’m seeing teen librarians and children’s librarians merged together into “youth services librarians” who do both jobs.  I think I relate to teens more than someone my age probably should, but children are another story.  For one, I hate them.  Even putting that aside, I can’t be relatable to them.  I can’t talk to them on their level, with coos and squeaky voices and feigned enthusiasm.  I just can’t, it's not something I have in me.  It is in the best interest of everybody involved if I am kept as far away from children as humanly possible.  But of course, this means I can kiss goodbye a lot of opportunities to be a teen librarian, which is actually something I could do and enjoy.

This post began as an explanation of what opportunities I’m going after and not going after, and this is a rare time it evolved into a little more as I began to type (I usually have a destination in plan when I begin, but this time I didn’t).  It also began to explain why merging positions creates reduced opportunity beyond the obvious fact that there’s less positions.  I’m not sure yet if it’s been taken into account that we’re not only losing numbers, but many positions have also been combined in such a way that more experience is needed (or at least preferred), creating a double whammy effect for anyone still trying to get solid footing.

This is why sometimes it’s better not to think.  The result is often depressing.

Calculating infinity

Followers of this blog (i.e., me) know that there has been a recent improvement in the number of interviews I've managed to get.  Those of you just tuning in, let me get you up to speed:

My MLIS was earned in May 2008.  I had one interview for a full time position that year.  There was, luckily, that less than halftime position that took me on, which is how I've been lucky enough to have been getting experience since then (although, not gainful employment).

In 2009 I had no interviews.  That's right, an entire year went by of applying to positions all over the country, and not one single person interviewed me.  For an entire year.

Then that happened again in 2010.  Then in 2011.  Then most of 2012.

Yes, seriously.  Four straight years SOLID of applying to jobs and not one single place would even grant me an interview.  That was one hell of a streak.

Then something happened.  After five years of paying my dues at my less than halftime job, I managed to get an interview in October 2012.  By the same time a year later I had had two more.  And one of them went all the way to round three before I was obliterated.  Then another one in May of this year, and finally, one I have yet to mention, another web interview for a position in Arkansas last month (which I obviously didn't get).

So all together that's:

08=1
09=0
10=0
11=0
12=1
13=2
14=2 (so far, just past half in).

Let's put aside the fact that seven sets of numbers doesn't reveal a pattern.  If these numbers were completely random, this would mean nothing.  But they're not completely random.  My increased experience is a factor, and what these numbers reflect is that opportunity is increasing for me.

...Or is it?

You see, I have a fear that I touched on before, but it especially bears repeating now.  The fear is that my experience is actually worthless.  True, the number of years I have on my resume is opening some doors as far as getting to the interview is concerned.  But what happens when I'm in the interview and they start asking me about what I've done so far?

Here's what they'll discover: 100% of that experience is just instruction.  that's it.  Sure I can say that helping students one on one in the classroom counts as reference, but no one seems to buy that.  I put it out there every single time, and every single time I can tell the interviewers consider it a stretch, even if they don't say it.  And if I want to say I've done collection development I have to go all the way back to my fieldwork and volunteer experience about 4 years ago.  If they want to know about my experience marketing the library, or cataloging, or programming, I've got nothin'.

I've been working in this field for 5 years, and aside from a short time doing fieldwork and volunteering, none of it has been in the library.  And this is what is being discovered about me when I interview.  So while I'm getting more interviews, I'm not sure if my current amount of experience is actually valuable at all in terms of actually landing a job.

As it is I'm limited to applying for academic instruction positions.  That's where my experience is, and I've now been typecast in that role.  I have never gotten an interview for a public library, even an "entry level" position (although, I don't really believe there is such a thing as a true "entry level" position anymore, since you need experience for any job you apply to).  I haven't even been interviewed for the position of page or shelver in a public library, and oh yes, I have sunk low enough to apply to those.  As far as academic libraries go, it has been all instruction.  And that's fine, I like instruction.  But there's still that matter of actually landing the job.

The bad news, again, is that my experience may be like that woman who only looks good from far away.  Once the employers get my resume up close, they may be shuddering upon seeing its acne, lazy eye, and 5 o' clock shadow.  At this point I have no idea if what I've been doing is "good enough" to get me a real job.  Ever.

At this point an optimist would say that the interview increase is still good news, because even without great experience I can now go in and sell myself.  For people with natural salesmanship, this would indeed be good news.  For someone who is a salesmanship black hole, on the other hand, this is not good news.  And guess which one I am.

A million little generals

I’ve mentioned before that sometimes I feel like I’m not cut out for this.  One of the main reasons I especially feel discouraged lately is because I simply cannot find a full job description that does not use a buzzword like “innovative” or “leader.”

A popular saying is that you either lead, follow, or get out of the way.  I’ll gladly do options two or three, but I am not into option one.  And as for being an innovator, are you kidding me?  How?  I have no idea how to reinvent the wheel.  If I were that smart… I’d be able to think of a witty way to end this sentence. 

No, as a matter of fact I’m not on the bleeding edge of today’s technology.  I’m not sure how you expect me to be when I can’t even get a decent job to begin with.  I don’t get to throw money around on things that are impractical for my own personal use.  When I don’t even own a smart phone, I’m obviously not going to know how to design apps for it.  And no, a webinar isn’t going to fill that knowledge gap when the technology itself is only theoretical in my world.

But I’m sorry, that paragraph looked like I’m shifting the blame to my circumstances.  My original point, however, is that I’m not that person.  I’m not inventing things.  I’m not shaking up the status quo.  I’m not thinking of exciting new things that have never been done. I’m not that smart.  We can’t all be leaders and trailblazers in the field, right?  Don’t there have to be some of us to follow you, or get out of your way?

To be clear, I am perfectly willing to do exactly that—“get out of your way.”  I do not intend to be an obstacle for people who want to do new things.  I don’t want to be the one grumbling at change because it’s more work.  If you can improve something, great, I’ll get in line.  Only problem is, it doesn’t seem like there’s a line to get into.

You would think the trailblazers would need people in line, but judging by the job descriptions I see, everyone is expected to be a leader, an innovator, a general. 

Maybe it speaks of an internal insecurity in the librarian world.  Some laypersons still view the library as “musty old books” that are hopelessly behind the times.  And some of that probably is justified.  I once attended a workshop given by a library futurist (my apologies, her name escapes me) who said that her job is easy, because all she has to do is look at what the rest of the world is already doing.

So maybe this is why those job descriptions tend to overcompensate by calling for every position, from the ground up, to be stuffed with people filled with new ideas.  But how serious about that are they, and where does that leave me?

I’m only a person.  I’m not out to reinvent an industry or think of new ways of doing things.  I couldn't if I wanted to.  I’m an ordinary, everyday person who just wants to do a day’s work and get a day’s pay.  Is there— especially in this economy— any space out there for someone like me?  And I suppose the question people considering a career in librarianship need to ask themselves is, is there room for you? 

Who are you?  Have you always been inspired by people who have thrown buzzwords at you about thinking outside the box?  Are you the brilliant kind of person who could revolutionize an industry and think of ways to do your job that no one in human history thought of before you?  Are you on the bleeding edge of technology to the point where you can tinker even further with it to do things that haven’t been done yet?  Or are you, like me, a regular person who just wanted what seemed like a decent, respectable job that wasn’t too strenuous for a weak body?

If it’s the latter I wish you luck, and hope you can manage to survive where I apparently can’t.  Because it’s getting harder and harder to find leaders who will let you line up behind them, rather than leave you behind.

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.

Not very great expectations

We who have been looking at postings for librarian jobs for a long time have long been aware of how laughably optimistic some employers are of the kinds of applicants they're going to find.  More than a decade's worth of experience, a second Master's degree (in a specific particular field, no less), and willing to work 50-60 hours a weeks for just under 30,000 dollars.  That's a worst case scenario, of course, but I've actually seen postings that hit three out of four of those.  Clearly, some people would do well to lower their expectations.  Yes, this is an employer's market and you've got your pick of the litter right now, but sometimes the future Westminster winner you're hoping for just isn't going to be out there.

Now, we job hunters often have a snicker over those job posts, typically before sighing heavily, taking another belt of our favorite drink (hemlock), and throwing ourselves off the roof.  And yet, I rarely hear laughter, complaints, or head scratching about employers on the opposite side of the fence, and it's strange to me because I see them constantly.  I mean those employers who pretend to have no standards whatsoever, even though they clearly need someone with a pretty substantial wealth of experience.

These jobs are extremely easy to identify.  Any time you see a job described simply as "Librarian," you've just found one.  What kind of librarian?  Reference?  Instruction?  Collection development?  Cataloging?  Would this be a supervisory position, perhaps?  Would I be in charge of the website, or be the liaison to the instructors?  The answer is all of the above.  "Librarian" more or less means "you're gonna be the only one here. do it all."  Now that's the kind of job I wouldn't expect to get without 5 years or more of progressively greater responsibility in the library world, having moved my way up to a management position at the very least.  Maybe I wouldn't expect to need a second Master's in Oriental Medicine or whatever, but obviously I should be ready to tackle a huge range of tasks with little to no direction.

I see these jobs all the time.  "Librarian."  "Librarian."  "Librarian."  That vague title that simply means "every kind of librarian you can think of, you're running the show, champ."  And yet every single one of those jobs I see asks for the exact same qualifications: "An ALA accredited Master's degree in Library Science."  That's it.  As if someone who just walked out of library school is perfectly capable of captaining the ship themselves.

What I'd like to know is, are they honestly considering people with no experience?  Is what they list as their qualifications really all that matters to them?  Or are they doing a complete 180 from the laughably optimistic employers above, so afraid of raising their standards too high that they drop all standards altogether for the initial job posting, and simply weed out the inexperienced ones once they've collected the resumes?  In short, just what the fucking fuck is up with these jobs?  I don't suppose anyone in the know can shed some light on this for us long-suffering job hunters?

And if these jobs secretly do have standards, could we maybe see more middle ground between the "I expect a librarian who can ride in on a unicorn, holding the Holy Grail" employers and the "we need someone who can do everything, but fuck it, we're too afraid to ask for more than a degree" employers?  Please?  I understand your perspective as someone who is concerned about raising the bar too high, but maybe you could understand my perspective as someone who is a little burned out after spending over five years applying for job after job after job afterjobafterjobafterjob,  and maybe agree not to waste my time if I don't have the experience you're secretly looking for.  Just an idea, throwing it out there.

Talk about the passion

Everyone knows that when you interview for a position you’re not entirely yourself.  I’m not saying you lie during interviews.  At least I don’t and I hope you don’t either, since you’re competing with me for jobs.  But while we don’t lie, of course what we present isn’t entirely representative of ourselves.  If it were, introverts would never get jobs.  Nor would anyone who dares to want a job for the money more than anything.  And since people need money to, you know, live, there aren’t many people for whom the money isn’t one of the top draws.  And then there are people like me who are just desperate to have a full time job in a horrible economy, but we’re sure as hell not allowed to be honest about being desperate.  No, if we had to show our true faces during an interview, no one would ever work.

So what’s the hardest part for me to fake?  I can hide my desperation, I hope.  At least, I don’t come right out and say I’m desperate, or that I need the job, or I need the money.  I can also generally hide the fact that I’m shy, given that there’s not much chance for me to show that I am.

Nope, I would say the hardest thing for me to fake is passion.  Having to act like “Oh my God, I LOVE being a librarian and it makes me so HAPPY to do this!”

 I used to be able to feel something like that long ago, before my current job broke my spirit by degrading me in every way at every opportunity.  But even back then the feeling would be ephemeral.  The truth is, I am not a passionate person.  Not about anything.  In fact, I’ve gone my whole life wondering if there was something wrong with me because it seems like everyone else can feel so strongly for things, and I never could.  I can enjoy things, but not enough that I’d want to do them for the better half of my waking day, five days a week, no matter how I feel and no matter what else I could be doing.  I can’t understand the mentality of anyone who could love anything that much.

There are things I can say I used to have a passion for, but I couldn’t sustain it.  Art, for example.  I was one of those kids who was always in at least two art classes any given semester throughout high school.  Then it just stopped, and when it did it was like a light switch.  One day art was my thing, and the next day I had no desire to draw or paint, and I knew I never would again.  And I never did.  Sorry I never used that easel you bought me, grandma.

I have no tattoos and I strongly doubt I ever will, because there’s nothing I care about so much that I’d want it on my body for the rest of my life.  Honestly, I kind of think people are idiots when they get band tattoos, because surely someday they’ll be 40 and explaining “oh yeah, that’s just the logo of some band I used to be really into.”  But band logos aside, some people apparently just love some things so much and know they always will to the point that they’ll draw it on themselves permanently.  And I know I never will.

When I first started to do fieldwork, I got a rush from helping people directly.  Instruction work made me feel like a rock star.  Now?  I spend every moment I’m not at work dreading going to work.  If I could have sustained that passion under normal conditions, I sure as hell couldn’t do it working in a place like this.

But I know that when I go into an interview, I have to spend all of my energy trying to put myself back in a place where I had that passion and enthusiasm, when in reality all I really want is to get a full time salary so I can live whatever little scraps of life I’m allowed to have on a full time schedule, and if I’m really lucky, do it in a place that doesn’t degrade me on a daily basis.  I just want to live my life and get by, that's all.  Yet there I am, forcing myself to pretend to be upbeat and enthusiastic for half an hour or more.

And it is fucking exhausting.

I still think there’s something wrong with me.  I still don’t understand why I can’t feel like normal people.  Why I’m so fucking broken that I can’t love things and activities unconditionally.  I can find interests, I can enjoy things, but there will never be anything that I eat, breathe, and sleep, and want to be my life.  Never.

What piece of the soul am I missing that everyone else has?

I too have a PhD in horribleness

In my last post I mentioned getting further along in the interview process for a full time job than ever before, for my dream job and dream location, and ultimately being rejected as all of the stars and planets lined up except one (Fuck you, Pluto, I thought you didn't count anymore!).  So here I'll talk more about that whole process for you new librarians wanting to know how these things work.

First there was a phone interview.  I knew it went well for two reasons.  It lasted longer than it was supposed to, and he told me right then and there that he foresaw me moving to the next round.  Pretty big clue, that second one.  There's not much to say about phone interviews.  They're normal interviews, but over the phone.  I wore pants anyway, just in case.

Then there was an online webcam interview where I had to give them a 15 minute presentation.  Now, that wasn't the hard part.  Remember, despite my constant failure for so many years, I'm not actually someone with no experience beyond fieldwork or volunteering.  I've been teaching this stuff for 5 years.  You want a presentation?  Well I just happen to have 12 of those queued up right now, which one do ya want, punk?

However, it wasn't as easy as it should have been for a few reasons.  I was in the middle of my work week during a big grade crunch, so there was that.  Also, I don't tend to use powerpoint for my lectures, but figured it would look odd if I didn't have one for this presentation.  When teaching classes I prefer to write on the board so things are more dynamic rather than set in stone.  Thus, I had to create a powerpoint from scratch based around the lecture I chose.  Doable, except that grade crunch made it stressful.  Finally, I had a tight 15-20 minute window, and I'm not used to having to care about the time too much.  Where I teach there's plenty of time built into classes for them to do their work, so basically, when I'm done I'm done.  This one I had to rehearse over and over to make sure I was in that exact window.

despite the challenges and the very short and busy time frame, I came through.  I had my second interview, which consisted of yet more questions in addition to the presentation.  Again, it went quite a bit longer than estimated, although I wasn't as positive it went as well as the last one.  It must have, because the very next morning they called me to meet.  So now for phase 3: I make the 270 mile drive where I meet the folks face to face.  At this point, the job is riding on my winning personality more than anything.

Fuck.

I actually wasn't expecting yet MORE interview questions when I got there.  I'd already gone through two rounds of that, and the guy made it sound like it was really more of a meet and greet, just to make sure I didn't show up covered in children's blood (although their ability to distinguish child blood from any other kind of blood probably says as much about them as it does me).  But there were questions.  And at no point did it seem to go well.  One guy barely looked at me the whole time and seemed bored.  One gal was looking at me like she felt sorry for me the whole time.  Maybe that's just her normal face, I don't know, but it worried me.  The whole thing lasted 30 minutes, including the tour.  I drove 270 miles there, spent nearly 200 dollars, and after 30 minutes they sent me packing.  Not a great sign.

You know the rest of the story, I didn't get the job.  But for those of you wondering what the process was like, there ya go.

For the rest of my life now, I'll always be wondering if my life could have ended up completely different if only for one thing.  Would I have had a different job, a different location, a different spouse, different friends, different everything, if only one little thing hadn't gone wrong?  Maybe if only I'd thought to say something differently.  If only my sunglasses hadn't messed up my hair on the way.  If only it had been scheduled for after lunch.  Any one of those little things and I might have had a completely different life, for all I'll ever know.  All I can do is try to tell myself I didn't get it for a reason, but I have a hard time believing everything happens for a reason, when nothing ever happens to begin with.  I always flash back to that conversation in Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog:

Penny: Everything happens--
Billy: Don't say everything happens for a reason.
Penny: No, just, everything happens.
Billy: Not to me.

Not dead, just buried

I feel I owe an update to the dozens of spambots and the zero real, actual people who read this blog.

There has been news.  Kind of a lot of news, actually.  The problem is, I've been busy.  And when I'm not busy, my depression demands that I do nothing but sit here in my sweatpants playing Skyrim for 12 hours straight.

But enough about my crippling mental disorders, here's the news.  In the past 2 months I have had two interviews for full time jobs.  To put that in context, the last full time job I was interviewed for (not counting This catastrophe, which I don't and neither should you) was about 4.5 years ago.  So I went from nothing year after year after year, to two interviews for full time positions in two months.

I got my MLIS in 2008.  It is now 2013.  That's 5 years and change.  That was how long it took for me to turn a corner where my experience is now enough to get me looked at.  As you may recall, my experience all this time has been adjunct info lit instruction, so maybe it's not as bad if you're the lucky kind of son or daughter of a bitch who can somehow land a part time job that's actually in a library.  I don't know how such a thing as possible, but eh, people get lucky.  Maybe you did fieldwork where there just happened to be an opening.  Good for you.  You son or daughter of a bitch.  Anyway, if you're one of those people then I guess you probably didn't have as long of a wait.  If you're like me and your only job has been teaching info lit as an adjunct (I know I'm not the only one!), the the magic number you're looking for is 5.  Five years and just maybe your resume will start getting looked at (albeit, only for jobs with a heavy instruction component).

And if you didn't hit the jackpot and stumble ass-first into a part time position right out of library school, AND if you didn't make the connections to get a teaching gig at the very least (in which case you must think me the son or daughter of a bitch), then haha, wow, I have no idea what it's going to be for you.

I may be jumping the gun, though.  I'm aware that two interviews doesn't prove a pattern.  It could very well be that getting two interviews was luck, and the fact they were 2 months from each other is coincidence, and now I'll be back to another 5 year dry spell.  Could be, but honestly I don't think so.  It's kind of hard to admit, but I actually have a good feeling about this.

I got rejected from that first job, by the way.  The other one... well, we'll wait and see.

On the bright side: death

I’ve found that I’m far too candid when people ask me how I am.  No one really wants to know.  I know this by the way they keep walking without giving me a chance to answer.  I know it by the way I’ll say something completely nonsensical and they’ll respond with “good!”  I’m well aware of the social convention where I’m supposed to say “good” or “fine” (no matter how I actually feel).  And I don’t do that.

No, instead the most awful crap will fall out of my head.  I will tell complete strangers, or people whose faces I know from seeing them around maybe twice a month or so, things like “I constantly fantasize about dying of cancer, and I sincerely want that to happen.”  Today it was: “I think I’ll give it til the end of the year, and if I still don’t have a full time job I’ll just do heroin until I die of AIDS.”

That… that is pretty fucking dark.  And rest assured, I do not think I’m being “funny” when I say these things to people.  I may not literally want to die of AIDS (though the cancer thing?  Completely true, actually…), but the sentiment does reflect my mood and how I feel about life.

For the most part, I consider saying these things to be a kind of revenge.  They asked a question they didn’t want an answer to, so I get back at them by giving them an actual answer.  Just my little way of saying: “there, we both feel awkward now.  Happy?  Let that be a lesson about asking about stuff you don’t want to know about.”

But still, holy crap, it is getting really fucking dark.  Like, really dark, to the point where this isn't ok anymore.  My honest answers are taking a turn for the worse.   The misery of my unemployability has gotten to the point where dying of cancer is my favorite fantasy.  I just imagine how nice it would be for all the weight to be off.  No more stressing about how my clock is tickin’ and I still haven’t found a job.  No more wondering or worrying about what will become of me.  Finally, an answer.  A final answer.  I would just know that nope, I’m not going to get what I wanted out of life, but I could be at peace with that because I’d know that I won’t have to worry about it any longer.  I'll be dead soon, so nothing I wanted is actually going to matter anymore.  I’d fulfill my obligations to work, if possible, then leave that miserable place, and spend my last days enjoying the little things in life while my loved ones—the few there are—all tell me how awesome I was and say their goodbyes.

That’s true, every word of it.  I mean, I’m sure the physical agony of cancer would be hard to take, but aside from that, just emotionally, knowing it’s over and being at peace would be so wonderful.  I can’t stop thinking about that.

To be clear, I’m not saying I’d kill myself.  I wouldn’t.  I’m just saying that a large part of me hopes to have it taken care of for me.

That’s another fun thing to consider if you want to be a librarian: how emotionally strong are you?  What effect will years and years and years of failure have on you?  Think you can take it?  This is probably a career to stay away from if you, unlike me, might actually have it in you to find that easy way out.  

Because sometimes, I can't help but pray for it.  Sadly I know it will not happen, for I am simply far too pretty to die. 

Wash it down the drain

As I think of how unprepared I feel to do most of the jobs I find on the job hunt, and how scary everything seems, and how hard and how much work, I often think I’m trying and failing to do something I have no business doing.  I know that my life has been a never ending cycle of me thinking I don’t have the competence to do something, and then doing it well.  And I know I earned my degree, and I did well in my fieldwork, and I’m doing at least well enough not to get fired with my current position, but none of that makes me feel prepared or capable of doing 99% of the library jobs I see.

As I sat (alone.  In the dark.  If you must know) tonight, dwelling on that very issue, I couldn’t help thinking about how I’ve set myself up for failure by trying to do something I’m just not good enough to do, and then I thought: “All because it was so fucking important for people to think I’m smart.”

I mentioned before why I chose to be a librarian, and all of that was true, but it’s also true that my motivation for a lot of things in life stems from wanting to show that I’m smart (and in my previous explanation, that was indeed my reason for getting into reading before I found that book that really made me into reading).

I know “Librarian” doesn’t say “genius” the way a medical degree or something would, but I’m not smart enough for a medical degree.  But I am (or thought I would be) smart enough to be a librarian.  And hey, librarians are considered smart.

The only problem is, now that I’m trying to get that job I really don’t think I’m smart enough at all.  I mean, I’m smart at a few things.  Reading, of course.  Logic, of the “if X, then Y” variety.  And I was a good student because of that, being able to see patterns easily.  I still remember one example.  Elementary school, some guest speaker was talking to us all, grades 1-6.  I was probably somewhere in grades 1-3, can’t say where for sure.  He had a long rectangular box with doors on both sides, and he put a ball in one side and asked where it was.  Someone pointed to the side he put the ball in.  He tilted the box so the ball rolled to the other side, then opened the door the kid pointed at to reveal it wasn’t there, and asked again where the ball was.  Another kid points to the side the ball rolled to, and he tilted the box the other way… etc.  This went on for several rounds, and I was /dying/ for him to call on me.  I couldn’t believe that no one else had figured it out.  Simple, point to where the ball isn’t and he’ll tilt it and that’s where the ball will be.  Simple pattern recognition, right?  He was calling on all the older kids, and none of them got it.  I’m sure I was one of the few who did.  He even made a comment at some point, along the lines of “you’d think they’d figure it out by now” before giving up completely.

And in the post I linked to above, you see that my kindergarten teacher didn't think it was even possible for someone to read fluently at the age of 5 until I was her student.

So where does all this insecurity come from?  This driving need for people to see me as intelligent?  Easy.  I had another trait as a small child: I liked making people laugh.  So I tried to do that at every chance I got, getting myself a bit of a "class clown" reputation.  I didn't know it at first, but apparently the stereotype is that class clowns are dumb.  That's just the stereotype: the kid seeks attention because he's not good at anything else.  I eventually realized that the other students weren't aware of the smarts I had, they were only aware of the clown persona, and applied all the usual stereotypes to it.  Everyone was treating me like an idiot, and it was the worst feeling in the world.  I never got over that.  to this day nothing gets under my skin quite like someone insulting my intelligence.

Therefore, it was important to me all my life that people see me as smart.  Therefore, reading and higher education.  Therefore, librarian.  When I dig further back into my past than the post linked above, I see it was my insecurity that took me here and drove me right off the cliff of failure.

The thing is, even though I was actually a pretty sharp little kid, none of that potential I had amounted to anything.  I think I was an exceptional child who, through sheer lack of motivation, became an average adult.

I spoke before about a song lyric that applies to my life, or more specifically, the part of my life I describe in this blog.  There’s another song lyric, much less optimistic, that also applies.  From a song called Farewell Mona Lisa:

“Don’t you ever try to be more than you were destined for, or anything worth fighting for.”

That one hits me every time.  I feel like that’s exactly what I did.  I bit off more than I could chew, tried to become something more than I was worth.  And now this is my life: struggling and fighting to do something that I don’t honestly believe I can do, and the thought of doing it scares me senseless.  Fail or succeed, I feel like neither option can end well for me.

All those employers I’ve sent resumes to have been right not to put their trust in me.

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.