At around noon on Friday, July 24th, 2009, something really cool happened: I finished my last class as a library student. The nice pieces of paper with “Master of Science in Library and Information Science” and “Certificate of Advanced Studies in Digital Libraries” won’t show up for a while, but barring unforeseen calamity I am done with library school.
It’s a major milestone in the path I’ve chosen for my life, and it’s sort of mindblowing that my answer to the question, “Are you a librarian?” just changed from “Not yet” to “Kinda!” The progress serves as some validation: if I’d decided to go to law school, I’d probably be wrapping up my seventh year of practice by now. If I’d decided to be a professional policy wonk, I’d likely be giving myself an ulcer working 100 hour weeks to get some traction with the new administration. If I’d decided to keep making sandwiches, I’d almost certainly be exploring the experimental reaches of concept sandwiches — like concept albums, but delectable:
“Hey man, can I get a Silmarillion, hold the avocado?”
“Are you mad? The avocado represents Fingolfin’s brave yet futile stand against Morgoth before the fell gates of Angband itself!”
“Great, but… I don’t like avocado.”
“I think you should probably leave.”
…yeah. Librarian was definitely the way to go.
This illustrates why I probably shouldn’t keep writing at night after I start to get punchy:
“Know, O prince, that between the years when the undergrads drank Zima and nasty box-wine, and in the years of the rise of the collars on fratboys’ pastel polo shirts, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining graduate programs lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars — Ithaca College, Cortland, Cornell with her gold-tongued lies of instruction in any study, Binghamton with her WalMart-haunted depths. But the proudest graduate program was Syracuse, reigning supreme in the dreaming fields of information science. Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, laptop in hand, a thief, a slayer, a library paraprofessional, with gigantic melancholies, gigantic mirth, and ever-more-gigantic student loan balances, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet.”
It’s a good thing my semester’s almost over. And thanks, Judd, for getting me riffing on Conan. :)