Well–I’m still sick. Mouth-breathing, sore-nose-blowing sick. And from what I hear from past victims, this cold should last another week. Let’s just say that other than watching the extended version of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Thanksgiving was a complete bust. The worst part is trying to get to sleep when your sinuses feel denser than lead, or that fruitcake you receive every Christmas, the one that manages to warp the gravitational field of your mailbox. Though I was exhausted, I kept waking up every two-three hours trying to breathe or sneeze. I finally had to resort to my secret vice to get some sleep.
And what did I do when I couldn’t sleep?
Obsess about my blog, of course, particularly my last posting: though I slammed Hollywood about not thinking about librarianship as a profession, I couldn’t recall the exact moment when I decided to become a librarian myself. In fact, other than a few years before I applied to library school, libraries weren’t even on the map when it came to my daily existence. Like many of you folks, I didn’t decide to apply to library school until I was in my 30s. I can’t say librarianship is my second career unless you consider shoveling popcorn or answering phones careers.
So do kids dream of becoming a librarian? I did spend a great deal of my childhood in libraries, but I don’t recall ever hankering to become one of the gals behind the counter. I don’t fault the librarians–at that time most of energy was spent avoiding adults. But other than checking out my books, I never knew what librarians actually did, unlike teachers. To top it off, they didn’t wear uniforms–at least not official uniforms like all the other people in my life. I spent almost every summer day in that library, but it never once occur to me that the women wandering the stacks were members of a profession. Maybe the idea seeped into me and became a latent virus, becoming active only when all other job options blew up in my face. Who knows?