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.
Friday, February 19, 2016
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
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.
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.
Friday, February 6, 2015
We just got no letters, I wonder who they're from.
It has been an especially long time since I’ve gotten a letter of rejection. Part of the problem is, of course, that I’m applying to fewer jobs these days. The truth is, there have been far fewer jobs to apply to lately. I don’t know exactly the cause, but it seems that there are far fewer jobs being advertised this year than there have been in the last two years, and most of my time job hunting lately is spent skimming a short list of job ads while thinking: "nope, nope, nope, I don't even know what that is, nope, and that's it, let's see how it goes next week." But part of the problem is also that sometimes you just don’t get a rejection letter. Sometimes you get a rejection email, and sometimes you get nothing at all.
Reading comments from other job seekers, I’m under the impression that a lot of us would very much appreciate being told when we weren’t selected for the job. Maybe I’m still younger than some of them, but I honestly can’t remember a time when it was commonplace to receive any kind of notification. I once applied to a job outside of the field, and the interviewer assured me unsolicited that they do call people to let them know if they were selected or not. They never called me. I learned after that that I should neither expect notification nor bother trying to obtain assurances that I’ll get any.
But really, of all of the complaints that us job seekers should have—the very shallow job pool (more of a job puddle, really), the mystery salaries, the low salaries—it seems odd to pick on notifications. Maybe this is the best we feel we can do? That was can never expect anything else to improve, but maybe if we raise our voices enough, more places will send out a nice little form letter or email? Maybe even with a real signature on the bottom if we’re extra blessed? I’m sorry, but with so many legitimate issues that exist when job hunting, it seems like nit-picking to bring this one up. You know why I don’t care if I get notified? Because if they never give me any kind of reply, that’s my answer. I figured it out all by myself. Actually, it somewhat annoys me to receive a notification of fuck off because it often happens 3-4 months after I apply for a job. Why even bother? Thanks guys, but I worked out that you didn't think I'd work out. You've given me no new information.
But I have noticed the lack of paper letters in just the past year. As I write this on Feb 2015, the last paper notification of what a loser I am came in on June 2014 (thanks, Santa Fe! I'm sorry I won't try your chili but I'm glad I won't encounter your scorpions). And I know that paper notification letter had been a thing even as recently as a couple of years ago, and I know that because I have a stack of them.
I’ve saved every single one of them since I began job hunting in 2008.
I’m not sure what my intentions were, exactly. Maybe I thought that when I got a job, I could look over every rejection letter and think: “you didn’t pick me, but I found someone who would.” Maybe I thought that one day when my niece or nephew is looking for a job and having a hard time, I’d be able to pull my rejection letters out of my filing cabinet and show them that people often don’t succeed their first try, but if they hang in there, good things will happen. Maybe I wanted to burn them all at once in some gleeful celebration. Maybe I wanted something to glare at when I drink (though my MLIS is filling that role nicely). I don’t know what I was thinking, but the point is I kept them, so I still have them, so I know they used to be a thing people sometimes received by mail.
And now it seems even more uncommon to receive them by mail than it was before. This is, of course, only my experience and personal experience counts for nothing. But since my experience is the one I’m writing about, here it is. My thoughts on saving rejection letters suffer the same problem as my thought to pursue a career in libraries: it was a nice thought, but ultimately unworkable.
Reading comments from other job seekers, I’m under the impression that a lot of us would very much appreciate being told when we weren’t selected for the job. Maybe I’m still younger than some of them, but I honestly can’t remember a time when it was commonplace to receive any kind of notification. I once applied to a job outside of the field, and the interviewer assured me unsolicited that they do call people to let them know if they were selected or not. They never called me. I learned after that that I should neither expect notification nor bother trying to obtain assurances that I’ll get any.
But really, of all of the complaints that us job seekers should have—the very shallow job pool (more of a job puddle, really), the mystery salaries, the low salaries—it seems odd to pick on notifications. Maybe this is the best we feel we can do? That was can never expect anything else to improve, but maybe if we raise our voices enough, more places will send out a nice little form letter or email? Maybe even with a real signature on the bottom if we’re extra blessed? I’m sorry, but with so many legitimate issues that exist when job hunting, it seems like nit-picking to bring this one up. You know why I don’t care if I get notified? Because if they never give me any kind of reply, that’s my answer. I figured it out all by myself. Actually, it somewhat annoys me to receive a notification of fuck off because it often happens 3-4 months after I apply for a job. Why even bother? Thanks guys, but I worked out that you didn't think I'd work out. You've given me no new information.
But I have noticed the lack of paper letters in just the past year. As I write this on Feb 2015, the last paper notification of what a loser I am came in on June 2014 (thanks, Santa Fe! I'm sorry I won't try your chili but I'm glad I won't encounter your scorpions). And I know that paper notification letter had been a thing even as recently as a couple of years ago, and I know that because I have a stack of them.
I’ve saved every single one of them since I began job hunting in 2008.
I’m not sure what my intentions were, exactly. Maybe I thought that when I got a job, I could look over every rejection letter and think: “you didn’t pick me, but I found someone who would.” Maybe I thought that one day when my niece or nephew is looking for a job and having a hard time, I’d be able to pull my rejection letters out of my filing cabinet and show them that people often don’t succeed their first try, but if they hang in there, good things will happen. Maybe I wanted to burn them all at once in some gleeful celebration. Maybe I wanted something to glare at when I drink (though my MLIS is filling that role nicely). I don’t know what I was thinking, but the point is I kept them, so I still have them, so I know they used to be a thing people sometimes received by mail.
And now it seems even more uncommon to receive them by mail than it was before. This is, of course, only my experience and personal experience counts for nothing. But since my experience is the one I’m writing about, here it is. My thoughts on saving rejection letters suffer the same problem as my thought to pursue a career in libraries: it was a nice thought, but ultimately unworkable.
Monday, December 29, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Maybe may be my least favorite word.
I've mentioned before that I was starting to get interviews after the five year mark of looking for a library position (although incidentally, that "two and counting" for 2014 can be called now-- that's staying at 2). At that point the upside was that at least I'm getting interviews now and then. Just a couple a year, but it gives me a better fighting chance than zero, right?
That was the upside. Now, however, I'm looking at it as possibly being another negative, most likely due to the pessimism I can't help but feel. Here's what I'm thinking now:
Before I was failing without even getting the chance. Now I'm being given a chance, and still failing.
You ask someone out on a date who says no, and it doesn't hurt your ego a whole lot, hopefully. Worst case scenario they didn't like your appearance, but that's a subjective thing so you can shrug it off. You know you're gorgeous. When you send out a resume, same deal. They judged you at a glance, and who knows what random, snap decision they had to make to narrow down the candidates. You know you would have been perfectly competent to do that job.
But when you get a yes to that date, go out, have some long, deep conversations and you think things went well, and then you never hear from the person again, and this keeps happening over and over, well then you can't help but wonder what's wrong with you. This time the person gave you a chance, sat down with you with an open mind, listened to what you had to say... and did not like it one bit. Not a snap judgment made at a glance, but a sound judgment made after peering into your depths and recoiling in horror. Same now with these interviews: they met me, shook my hand, asked me things about myself, and decided then that I should be rejected.
Where this metaphor breaks down is that when it comes to dating, sometimes being pretty is enough to hold someone's interest (and how lucky for me, since that's really all I've got). But when it comes to those interviews, sadly, being pretty will not be enough to win them over. I'll admit it has occurred to me that the fact that I'm eye candy could be good marketing for their library, but I'm obviously not stupid enough to claim that in an interview >.>
This is going off the rails a bit, circling back to my point now. Before it was easier to shrug it off and think: "they're not rejecting me, they're rejecting a very small snapshot of me that they gather from my resume and cover letter. Now, though, some of them are spending hours-- hours!-- with me in person, listening to what I have to say, and saying: "nahhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Now I can really, truly feel like it's "me" they're rejecting. Is that really a step up?
Obviously I'm still getting the interview experience, and I'm still getting a chance rather than none. But that only makes me feel better if I believe it's really going to help me get the job someday. If I don't get the job-- and it is entirely possible that I won't-- all I'll have gotten from this is more personal rejection and the opportunity to look back at the end of my life and think "if only I'd checked my hair after taking off my sunglasses in the car, maybe...," or "if only I'd elaborated on this one point, maybe...," or "if only the three hour drive hadn't drained me so much more than I thought it was going to, maybe..."
Will my interview opportunities lead to something good? Maybe. But then again, maybe not.
That was the upside. Now, however, I'm looking at it as possibly being another negative, most likely due to the pessimism I can't help but feel. Here's what I'm thinking now:
Before I was failing without even getting the chance. Now I'm being given a chance, and still failing.
You ask someone out on a date who says no, and it doesn't hurt your ego a whole lot, hopefully. Worst case scenario they didn't like your appearance, but that's a subjective thing so you can shrug it off. You know you're gorgeous. When you send out a resume, same deal. They judged you at a glance, and who knows what random, snap decision they had to make to narrow down the candidates. You know you would have been perfectly competent to do that job.
But when you get a yes to that date, go out, have some long, deep conversations and you think things went well, and then you never hear from the person again, and this keeps happening over and over, well then you can't help but wonder what's wrong with you. This time the person gave you a chance, sat down with you with an open mind, listened to what you had to say... and did not like it one bit. Not a snap judgment made at a glance, but a sound judgment made after peering into your depths and recoiling in horror. Same now with these interviews: they met me, shook my hand, asked me things about myself, and decided then that I should be rejected.
Where this metaphor breaks down is that when it comes to dating, sometimes being pretty is enough to hold someone's interest (and how lucky for me, since that's really all I've got). But when it comes to those interviews, sadly, being pretty will not be enough to win them over. I'll admit it has occurred to me that the fact that I'm eye candy could be good marketing for their library, but I'm obviously not stupid enough to claim that in an interview >.>
This is going off the rails a bit, circling back to my point now. Before it was easier to shrug it off and think: "they're not rejecting me, they're rejecting a very small snapshot of me that they gather from my resume and cover letter. Now, though, some of them are spending hours-- hours!-- with me in person, listening to what I have to say, and saying: "nahhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Now I can really, truly feel like it's "me" they're rejecting. Is that really a step up?
Obviously I'm still getting the interview experience, and I'm still getting a chance rather than none. But that only makes me feel better if I believe it's really going to help me get the job someday. If I don't get the job-- and it is entirely possible that I won't-- all I'll have gotten from this is more personal rejection and the opportunity to look back at the end of my life and think "if only I'd checked my hair after taking off my sunglasses in the car, maybe...," or "if only I'd elaborated on this one point, maybe...," or "if only the three hour drive hadn't drained me so much more than I thought it was going to, maybe..."
Will my interview opportunities lead to something good? Maybe. But then again, maybe not.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Silence
I've gone a little while without updating my blog. Don't worry, I still have plenty of scribbled notes of ideas for blog discussions. I just haven't been interested in doing them lately for the same reason I haven't been very diligent in job hunting for librarian jobs lately.
When I first started writing about the impossibility of getting a job in this field, the advice I gave to myself, yet refused to accept, was "Give Up." And while I haven't done this yet, the sentiment has crept deeper into my bones lately. It's so hard to motivate myself to spend hours of my time going through job listings and applying to at least the lowest hanging fruit when more than six years of experience is telling m it's a waste of time, and my life will never move on from the stalled place it's at now.
For the past few months I've been begrudgingly doing the part-part-part time job I do have and then coming home and escaping into books or video games, not even bothering to waste my time applying anywhere. I've just been feeling too defeated to pull myself up lately.
If you're not in this position it's probably so easy to say: "oh, but you need to apply, you never know!" or "don't Give Up!" Or "you may as well keep trying, no harm in trying after all!" To you, I challenge you to go six straight years failing at something and not go through patches where you're just not motivated. When you've had Mike Tyson beating you senseless for six years, there will be times when you lie on the mat for longer than needed, just to get a break.
My lack of interest in my career has also, as you have seen, translated to a lack of interest in talking about my career. I still have plenty to say, though. And really, that's sad. I didn't know when I started two years ago that I'd have over two years worth of material to rant about regarding my own personal failure in life, and the death of the American dream. No, not death. Zombification. It has died, but shuffles on as a cruel mockery of those who cared for it, devouring them in giant handfuls. I don't know what to make of the fact that I've now used two analogies of fighting an opponent who likes to bite people. Point is, it is appalling that there's so much to say about how terrible one specific problem is. Two years and still so much left to say about the futility of life for anyone trying to start a life for the first time post November, 2008.
And it will be said. A few days ago I managed to bring myself to skim the job postings half-heartedly, and this should mark the start of more searching, more applications, and more posts about just how fucked this dead field is.
Enjoy.
When I first started writing about the impossibility of getting a job in this field, the advice I gave to myself, yet refused to accept, was "Give Up." And while I haven't done this yet, the sentiment has crept deeper into my bones lately. It's so hard to motivate myself to spend hours of my time going through job listings and applying to at least the lowest hanging fruit when more than six years of experience is telling m it's a waste of time, and my life will never move on from the stalled place it's at now.
For the past few months I've been begrudgingly doing the part-part-part time job I do have and then coming home and escaping into books or video games, not even bothering to waste my time applying anywhere. I've just been feeling too defeated to pull myself up lately.
If you're not in this position it's probably so easy to say: "oh, but you need to apply, you never know!" or "don't Give Up!" Or "you may as well keep trying, no harm in trying after all!" To you, I challenge you to go six straight years failing at something and not go through patches where you're just not motivated. When you've had Mike Tyson beating you senseless for six years, there will be times when you lie on the mat for longer than needed, just to get a break.
My lack of interest in my career has also, as you have seen, translated to a lack of interest in talking about my career. I still have plenty to say, though. And really, that's sad. I didn't know when I started two years ago that I'd have over two years worth of material to rant about regarding my own personal failure in life, and the death of the American dream. No, not death. Zombification. It has died, but shuffles on as a cruel mockery of those who cared for it, devouring them in giant handfuls. I don't know what to make of the fact that I've now used two analogies of fighting an opponent who likes to bite people. Point is, it is appalling that there's so much to say about how terrible one specific problem is. Two years and still so much left to say about the futility of life for anyone trying to start a life for the first time post November, 2008.
And it will be said. A few days ago I managed to bring myself to skim the job postings half-heartedly, and this should mark the start of more searching, more applications, and more posts about just how fucked this dead field is.
Enjoy.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
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.
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.
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