Oh, hey!

Three things:

Thing the first, I am sorry I did not post yesterday. I realized at 9:30 when I got home from my meeting that I needed to make hotcake batter more than I needed to blawg, for today to run smoothly.

Secondofly, the term I was looking for in Friday’s post is “Information Literacy.” My dear friend, Clarence, literally spent years studying and teaching this, and yet– the words escaped me.

And c) I had a revelation over the weekend. To wit: my passion appears to lie not with traditional librarianship at all! As I’ve been exploring job opportunities and blogging and talking animatedly with friends about libraries and information and cetera, I am realizing that I want to do something paralibraryish. I would like to get some programming skillz and dream bigly about a) ways to make information more accessible and b) ways to organize information so that it is searchable, retrievable, and analyzable.

This is pretty much blowing my mind, and let me tell you why. While I was not exactly a Luddite, when I left for college I bought a really old word processor instead of a computer, because I enjoyed the typewriterliness of it. (When it “printed,” it just triggered the typewriter ball to type the paper without me. It was genius, though I couldn’t print papers while my roommate slept. Also, it had no accent punctuation, so, after I printed, I hand-wrote my accents ague and circomflexes.) I was pretty devoted to a picture of myself as poet and artiste, sans need for something so lowly as a “computer.” I underestimated my nerdliness by a lot!

And it works!!!

And it works!!!

This is a bit more on the personal tip, but I think it is relevant. I am still a poet and a memoirist, and my house is full of my paintings. But I think I have been selling myself short for many years in the world of doing. And everybody’s got their own stories and motivations. Here is part of mine: my mother left my family, ostensibly to practice her art (she was a musician). She wasn’t “successful,” in the way she wanted to be at least, and I was left with a portrait of the artist as struggling and romantic. (Check out The Artist’s Way for information on how not to harm yourself artfully.) I disdained my father’s practicality, and, though I excelled at math and science, I was pretty committed to deriding them on a regular basis.

So, I developed really far in one way, went to a liberal arts college, and studied things I don’t regret studying. In fact, I adore literature and speaking French and writing theory and breaking apart texts and revealing their soft underbellies (what just happened?) Just like I love raising animals and growing veggies and digging in the dirt. But I don’t think I want to get paid for that.

Libraries made sense in a paraliteratural career kind of way, esp. at the same liberal arts college where I earned my degrees. I am really grateful for the experience I have had. But my soul somehow longs for something less poetic, more practical, and more mathy. Surprise!

I am surprised. Pleasantly so.


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