Well, it's the day before Thanksgiving and I'm sicker than a jaded dog....I have no idea what that means, but because I am sick, I feel justified in venting my Grump 'o the Day:
While coming in the middle of an episode of Joan of Arcadia a show I've grown to love despite its seemingly sappy concept), I watched as Joan (Amber Tamblyn) is talking to Sammy (Patrick Breen), an owner of a bookstore. I don't recall what the conversation was about, but Sammy says something to the effect of (and I'm paraphrasing here) "I have a masters degree in English Literature--what else can I do except own a bookstore?"
Helloooo????
Even when it's so painfully obvious, why is it Hollywood still suffers from a dearth of imagination when it comes to librarianship as a profession? Is it because bookstores have more resonance than libraries when it comes to that most treasured of demographics, tweenagers? Or is it because librarianship seems rather archaic, akin to being a blacksmith in the world of information? Sammy was certainly quirky/twitchy enough to be a librarian, at least the stereotype of a librarian, so why wasn't it mentioned? The answer, I suspect, is even more disheartening: I don't think the profession even entered the writers' minds in the first place. In other words, librarians and libraries are so removed from the day-to-day experiences of Hollywood and its denizens that now when they create a character that in movies and television episodes past would have been a librarian now that character becomes a bookstore owner. In other words, even the stereotype has become irrelevant in most people's worldview.
So we've come to a mixed blessing in the profession: the stereotype is becoming outmoded, but only because in the public's eyes, libraries are outmoded. Please someone--prove me wrong!
Snore No More Dept: I must say I'm amazed at the feedback I've been getting from the snoring post. Though I do come from a long line of prodigious snorers (when we were teens my sister once slept in a hotel bathtub to get away from my father's snoring), I don't believe I have sleep apena--just a good ol' all-American snore: loud, even and annoying. I did, however, have an upstairs neighbor whose sleep apnea was so bad it woke me up with a start several times at night--even with all the windows closed. I really wanted to tell him about my concerns, but how do you tell a stranger he's got sleep apnea?
I hope you and yours have a happy Thanksgiving and try not to make everyone's eyes roll when you begin outlining why they should be thankful librarians are looking out for their freedom of information rights. Wait until after dessert, at the very least.
My Dear, Dear Friends,
After several minutes of contemplation, I have decided to come out of the closet and confess to something so horrific, so deeply humiliating, something no woman (to my knowledge) has confessed to in public:
I snore.
It's not one of those exhausted-little-boy-after-a-day-at-Disneyland snores, the one that makes parents go "awww" as they shut the door to his room. It's not even one of those I'm-stupid-but-cute Jessica Simpson-type lowing. I have the Snore of the Damned. A fish-wife's snore (are there still such things as fish-wives?). A snore that makes dogs wail and men weep (okay; just my husband, but he's pretty darned annoyed).
Why is it so humiliating, especially in these days of Oprah and Dr. Phil? After all, in this stage of our civilization, many a girl will happily confess to swinging from mirrored disco balls covered in nothing but low-fat Cool-Whip (she may be slutty, but she's not stupid). Others will readily (sometimes too readily) describe their phobias and addictions to the extent that they're now attending a twelve-step group for their twelve-step addiction. But no woman wants to be thought of with her head slung back, her mouth open wide enough for the Chunnel train to drive through, processing enough air through her lungs that she's decompressing the atmosphere of her bedroom every five seconds. Add the visual cherry-topper of dried saliva in the corners of the mouth and women who gleefully flaunt wearing fake nipples run screaming back into the snoring closet.
So why come out now? Because I believe in breaking the last taboo of femininity. I believe women should be honest in all aspects of the existence, even if it isn't pretty. I also believe in pre-emptive strikes: if you wind up rooming with me during a library conference, you can't say you weren't warned.
What I'm Reading: A Confederacy of Dunces for the umpteenth time, but I never get enough of Ignatius J. Reilly's worldview.
Yesterday I broke down and paid six bucks to see a matinee of Alien. The first time I saw this movie was during the height of my tanned-disco-goddess days (okay; I looked like a hooker, but hey--everyone looked like that in 1979) and the chest-bursting scene still freaks me out (maybe that's why I never had children). What's notably missing from the re-release is the tagline used in the original promo: "In space, no one can hear your scream".
And I do love movie taglines--it's the entertainment industry's way of reducing the work of hundreds of people (not to mention millions of dollars in PR) into one seductive sound bite for thirteen-year olds with too much money and not enough ritalin. As librarians we have tried, in our own endearingly inept way, to compete by coming up with our own hip slogans that will entice unsuspecting teens to actually walk into a library. However we keep just missing the mark("Czech out Prague @ your library"???). This has not gone unnoticed; just check out any episode of The Simpsons that features a visit to the library.
If we want kids to visit the library, we need to come up with catchphrase that resonate with the Youth of Today. Here are my humble submissions:
Feel free to add to the list.
Whack Beauty Tip of the Day: A shout-out goes to Charlotte Sanders, a librarian for Lexis-Nexis who seems to have played fast and loose with library supplies, not to mention her pain levels:
During slow times at the library I'll wax my legs using Cover-UpsŪ plastic adhesive covers for paperback books. Just press these sheets against your legs (in direction of hair growth, of course!!), pull and the adhesive will yank unsightly hairs right out by the root. Not recommended on bikini line.
Today's shout-out goes to Keith Knight, the brains behind my favorite weekly (even more so than Life in Hell) cartoon strip, The K Chronicles. Based in The City (aka, San Francisco), Keith could be considered the Samuel Pepys of Generation X (or Gen Y--pick whichever you prefer). Sir Keith talks about the big and little things that affect us all, from 9/11 to life's little victories (a perennial theme of Keith's). But Keith's true genius is is ability to describe--nay, twistily explore--those teensy moments in life Homer Simpson so succinctly describes as being "funny because it's true".
So why haven't you read him? So unless you've seen the strip in some savvy weeklies or Salon.com, Keith seems to have a problem being picked up by some alternative newspapers. One editor's shortsitedness is a loss for thousands of readers.
So go on; visit Salon.com or buzzle.com and groove on Keith's take on life--you won't be sorry.
For all the kvetching we've done (me included, never-you-mind) about the librarian action figure and the librarian stereotype, Nancy Pearl finally gets the last word courtesy of Sunday's Stone Soup comic strip. What's nice is that Jan Eliot gets the true nature of librarianship right, focusing on censorship and information access, rather than checking out books or looking dour.
What I'm Watching: