My Life as a Librarian, or That What Does Not Kill Me Makes Me Interesting

Counterpunch has a column by Linda Ueki Absher, 'the lipstick librarian'. Here's a portion:

It's finally happened: everyone wants to be me.

Well, they don't want to be me, me. After all, who wants student loans, an undervalued house and a sweater that looks like I've just mugged a red heffalump? But everyone under thirty with skinny black jeans and artistic facial hair, or Bettie Page bangs and winsome skirts with felted bird appliqu├ęs (with an influential minority wearing all of the above) want to be what I am: a librarian. This is a surprise, to put it mildly.

A surprise because when I announced to friends and loved ones that I wanted to become a librarian, reaction was less than enthusiastic, running somewhere along the lines of what I would expect if I'd just announced I was really Joan of Arc but with less restrictive clothing and a high tolerance to heat: pity, bewilderment and resignation. It was as if I declared my intent of becoming a secular nun. I went to library school--a graduate program, no less, learned unspeakable things ("a festschrift is WHAT?") and graduated two years later. I was a librarian, with all its perks (steady income and access to books) and downsides (embarrassingly low steady income and non-existent social life)

But since library school, something odd happened: librarians became hip.

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