Writing Prompt: Laying Down the Law

Plinky asks: “If you could enact one new law, what would it be?”

In the spirit of the season, I’m going to say I would make it illegal to drive around with snow left on top of your car. I’ve seen far, far too many lazy people tearing down the road with snow and ice flying off their car roofs, and even though I don’t drive, it still pisses me off.

I get especially disheartened at the state of humanity when I see tiny cars with the snow still piled on top. Really, people? Can’t be arsed to pull out that snow brush and do a little stretching? It’s not that hard, is it?

I feel like SUV and truck drivers think they have an excuse, since the roofs of their cars are tall enough to make snow clearing impossible to a normal-sized human. To them, I point to the gentleman in the picture above. This man knows how it is. If you own a big car, you should also own a big brush. Or a broom. Your propensity for large vehicles does not excuse you of the responsibility!

I suppose I get so riled up about this because it’s a safety issue, and lazy people are putting the lives of fellow drivers in danger. When I experienced my first snowfall as a licensed driver, I couldn’t be arsed to reach across my car roof to get all the snow off. Then my mum explained about how ice can launch off cars and into the windshields of vehicles behind them, cracking the glass on one end of the damage spectrum, and causing a multi-car pile-up on the other. That’s all it took; my car was brushed meticulously clean each storm after that.

If a 16-year-old can understand the concept, I think it’s only fair to expect adults to get it too. Which is why I would enact a law imposing a strict fine on anyone driving with a dangerously snowy car. After some research, I found that New Hampshire already has this law; drivers get fined between $250 and $500 for the first offense, then up to $1,000 for the second. My fine would be the average cost of a windshield replacement plus the average ER and hospital costs – sans insurance – for car accident victims… some Googling of these costs brings my estimated fine amount to $4000 on the low end.

Would the threat of this fine be enough to motivate people to get off their butts and spend 5-10 minutes clearing their cars off for the good of society? My tiny faith in humanity says probably not, but then again, you know what they say about assuming things…

Writing Prompt: Stage Presence

Plinky asks, “Have you ever been on stage?”

Why yes, Plinky, I have indeed been on stage once or twice, despite my penchant for shyness around lots of people. Let me share some of the best moments:

1) My first time going onstage not to receive a Books & Beyond award in elementary school (I read a lot) was at the illustrious Mechanics Hall in downtown Worcester, MA. I went on countless field trips here as a kid, and one time got picked to hop up onstage to take part in a random performance. I forget if it was 3rd, 4th, or 5th grade… I’m leaning toward 5th… but the show centered on this guy who sang songs about the environment and diversity, etc. I got to hold up the “L” sign in his aptly titled song “Ecology” while some of my classmates were quickly taught ridiculously complicated clapping routines to accompany the song. It was weird.

2) In 8th grade, I was part of the not-so-illustrious “Chorus 2″ in my middle school’s production of Leader of the Pack. Chorus 2 was where the musical director stuck all the kids who couldn’t sing or act, since no one was allowed to be cut from the cast in middle school. I got to wear 1960s-era clothes, plus more makeup than I’ve ever worn any other time in my life, and sing and dance to hits such as “Be My Baby,” “Do Wah Diddy,” and “Chapel of Love.” I also got pretty good at dancing the Hanky Panky, but sadly all those moves have escaped from my memory.

3) During a random fit of inspiration to participate in as many diverse things as possible during my sophomore year of college (the year in which I played indoor soccer for the first time, wrote sporadically for the school paper, and several other things), I tried out for a small production of the third act of Our Town, and landed the role of dead Mrs. Gibbs. (With my track record of being pegged as a bad actor – see above – I was pretty pumped that I was actually given a significant speaking role). It was a pretty fun experience, and also occurred right before my hatred for all-things theatre developed fully, so I’m glad I was able to sneak it in there.

There you have it, Plinky… evidence of my brief history as a thespian. They say nature abhors a vacuum; well, DGobs abhors actors, actresses, musicals, and most-things theatrical, so I’m pretty sure these were my last moments onstage as an actress. Do with those memories what you will.

Boots!

I’m super giddy (and therefore super lame) because I just bought myself a totally kick-ass pair of winter boots. In fact, these are the first winter boots I ever bought for myself, so it’s a pretty exciting evening, let me tell you.

I always rocked the boots during my childhood… I was even one of the few kids who was allowed to play in the snow during recess because my mum packed me off to school with boots, and other kids wore sneakers because they wanted to be cool. Well who was the cool one after all?! The girl climbing snow mountains with a handful of other people, or all the losers standing on the cement and looking sad? Haha, I say. Haha!

Even in high school I always had some boots handy. Something changed when I went to college though. Maybe it’s because my campus was so uber-tiny that I wasn’t outside in the snow for more than 45 seconds at a time, so I just always wore sneakers. I upgraded to some vaguely boot-like Skechers that I still rock to this day, but unfortunately they have no traction whatsoever and are low-top, so they’re not the best for traversing icy roads or climbing through snow drifts.

In recent years, I’ve taken to wearing my Docs (with Yak Trax when it’s wicked icy), but they also don’t have much traction and aren’t much warmer than wearing a pair of Chucks. Actually, Chucks might be warmer.

Anyway. All this rambling to say that today I finally bit the bullet and splurged on a new pair of fancy-shmancy boots. (Thanks to my grandpa, Bop, for the Christmas money that went directly to purchasing these bad boys!) Now watch… as soon as I get these boots in the mail it won’t snow for the rest of the winter here. Oh well, from what I hear these puppies will last me a long time. **NERD**

A New Year

I haven’t forgotten about PTQ, I swear! The holidays distracted me, and then I went on a furloughcation for a while and didn’t want to be connected to the interwebs at all (other than checking Tottenham’s scores and table rankings). So… yeah. I’m going to try to be better from now own.

That said, I’m going to plead my way out of writing a real post today because I just posted one at my other blog, and I don’t think my brain can handle two substantial posts in one day at this point. Besides, I have Pillars of the Earth to go lose myself in. So here are links to my last two posts at A Fool Notion:

DGobs’s 2010 in Review

DGobs Revisits Goals Set in 2010

Writing Prompt: Three Countries I’d Like to Visit

If I had the time and the money, I’d totally try to visit every country in the world. But to keep this post non-epic, and to answer the prompt, here are three countries I’d like to visit (in no particular order):

1. Holland. I think Holland would be a pretty spectacular place to visit for all kinds of reasons. My grandma’s family emigrated from there, so the ancestral significance is cool, and I also have family still living there and it would be pretty awesome to hang out with them. Plus the place looks pretty gorgeous in pictures, Amsel Light ads make Amsterdam look wicked fun (or, you know, one “dam good” city), my inner history nerd would be pleased about spending time in such a history-rich country, and plus, Rafael van der Vaart is from there. Nuff said.

2. Wales. I’ve been to Scotland, lived in England for a while, and been (very briefly) in Ireland. The only countries left in my tour of the British Isles are Wales and Northern Ireland. Though I’d love to see Northern Ireland, the country makes me a little nervous and I’d feel a whole lot safer visiting Wales at this point. Plus Wales has the magical “booktown” of Hay-on-Wye, the lovely Snowdonia, and Gareth Bale. I can live with the leeks if I can have the other things.

3. Denmark. There’s kind of a European theme to this list, yeah? Ever since I read a series of historical YA novels set in Denmark, I’ve wanted to visit. Copenhagen sounds pretty cool. A friend of mine studied there for a year and I followed along with his adventures via is blog, and Denmark just seemed like a really awesome place to be.

 

This Feels Cliche, But…

…it doesn’t feel like Christmas is only 4 days away.

I feel like every year since I was, oh, 12? 13? Christmas stopped feeling like “Christmas.” I always just assumed this was a natural part of getting older. But even though Christmas wasn’t quite as magical as it was when I was a kid, I could still kind of feel Christmas coming. Especially while I was still in school… teachers, even in high school, never seemed to care about school stuff as winter break rolled around, and there’d be snacks and movies and presents among friends. And in college, the holidays would be ushered in by the glorious feeling of finishing finals and then heading home for a while.

For the four years after I finished college, I still could feel that holiday excitement approaching, since I was working at a university library. It was always awesome seeing the students leave (woo hoo!) and getting to have the library almost empty except for the “outside users” who would come in just to sit on the computers all day. And there would be a holiday party with silly gifts and good food and, if we were lucky, champagne. The holiday break was never very long, but it was still preceded by that almost-Christmas excitement.

This year, however, is the first year since 1989 that I haven’t either been in school or working with students right before the holidays. Instead, I’ve been working in my little cube under the stairs, only interacting with students when they walk by outside my window and stare in at me like I’m in a zoo. And other than getting a box of holiday cookies from my boss and seeing one of my co-workers rock a totally awesome necklace of tiny Christmas lights, there’s been no holiday build up. So it’s blowing my mind that Christmas is at the end of this week.

Maybe that mind-blowing is why this post feels so disjointed and weird… or maybe all the Mannheim Steamroller I’ve been listening to this afternoon has addled my brain. Either way, I think it’s time to stop now.

Writing Prompt: The Most Evil Thing I’d Do… bwa ha ha!

Because I’m still unable to come up with ideas for posts on my own, this time I’ll borrow a page from Lindsey’s book and answer the Plinky prompt: If there were no consequences, what is the most evil thing you’d do?

What’s the most evil thing I’d do if there were no consequences? Easy. I’d burn down Emirates Stadium.

The Emirates, for the uninitiated among you, is the new football (soccer) stadium in which the scum play. The scum being Arsenal, aka “The Arse.” As I am a Spurs fan, I hate the scum and their fans, called “Gooners.” Gooners also hate me (or, they would if they knew I’m a supporter of the Yids), as well as my beloved lads in white and blue.

Basically, as the old song goes: If I had the wings of a sparrow, and if I had the arse of a crow, I’d fly over Arsenal tomorrow and sh*t on the bastards below. (Fun fact: I usually substitute the words “poo” and “wankers” in the last line, since somehow I’m usually singing that song in front of my Mum and don’t want to offend).

Anyway, that’s what I’d do. I’d wait until a time when no one was in the stadium, because I’m not so evil that I want to murder people, and I’d burn that sucka down. Then I’d spit on the ashes. And you know what? I’d also burn down whatever parts of Highbury, the scum’s old ground, is left standing. Just because.

Hell, while I’m at it, I’d burn down Yankee Stadium as well. Because I’m a good New Englander.

But before I do all that, first I’d sneak into my upstairs neighbor’s apartment and steal all her shoes. I would then throw these shoes into one of the massive bonfires I start. I’d also tamper with their pipes so that Stompy and Mr. Stompy would no longer be able to hog all the hot water in the house. But I would not steal any of her packages from the mail because that is unneighborly behavior and I will not stoop to her level. I will not!!

But mostly, I’d burn down the Emirates. And it would be awesome.

Writing Prompt: My Perfect Sunday

How’s this for a weird, Twilight-Zone kinda situation?

This morning, Drew and I were watching The Phantom Gourmet as we were waiting for our apartment to warm up enough for us to wander into the kitchen to make breakfast, and one of the episodes included an interview with a restaurant owner named Jim Messenger. Hearing his name, my brain instantly thought of Hot Fuzz, one of my favorite movies of all time, since there is a character in it named Tim Messenger. I believe what came out of my mouth next went something like this: “Jim Messenger? Tim Messenger! ‘Hi hi!’ ‘What is your idea of the perfect Sunday?’” with the last few words spoken in a bad Gloucestershire accent.

Imagine my surprise, faithful reader(s), when I glanced at today’s Plinky prompt only to see “What is your idea of the perfect Sunday?”

Naturally, the universe wanted me to answer this question today, and so I shall.

My perfect Sunday (let’s narrow this down a bit… my perfect Sunday in late December) would involve waking up around 10am, putting the kettle on, and watching some footie on tv with Drew while drinking tea. Preferably, it would be a Tottenham match, and in a perfect world, they would win. Against Arsenal. By a score of 9-1.With Jack Wilshire scoring the only goal for the scum and Fabregas, van Persie, and Nasri all picking up injuries that would keep them out for no less than 4 weeks each, but for which Spurs would incur no yellow or red cards.

Our Christmas tree would be up and decorated, and its lights would be on as snow falls gently out the window behind it, making the perfect, cozy backdrop. We’d make pancakes after the Spurs match ends, and they wouldn’t burn or clump up or otherwise fail to cook perfectly, and I would not cry into the batter or get otherwise frustrated. We would eat our pancakes together in loving bliss, then return to the couch to watch the noon footie match.

Perhaps I’d read after that match ends… a good book, obviously, and I’d be cozy under a blanket on the couch while Drew reads beside me or plays WoW. Perhaps there would also be a good, long phone conversation with my Mum, followed by (or preceded by) a friendly phone convo with my Dad, and some random, silly texts from friends I haven’t heard from in a while. Drew and I would rustle up some lunch, and then maybe play some Mario Kart or Rock Band. Or maybe I’d wrap some Christmas presents. There would be hot chocolate with Fluff as more snow falls gently outside, but not accumulating enough to be a pain or cause dangerous driving conditions.

When dinnertime rolls around, we’d go to New Ginza, find a close parking spot, and eat some delicious sushi without getting too stuffed. Hot sake would be enjoyed. We’d return home and cuddle on the couch while watching a movie, perhaps Black Adder’s Christmas Carol or Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol or Love Actually. Then we’d read in bed before drifting off to a nice, restful, long night of sleep.

Yeah, that sounds lovely.

Writing Prompt: The Most Important Thing I’m Putting Off

This should be a surprise to no one who knows me at all, or has read any of my whiny school-related posts, but I’m currently putting off writing a paper.

I took a seminar back in May about British librarianship, which was awesome because a) I got to live in the heart of London for 2 weeks, and b) it would give me 3 credits toward my degree. However, in order to get those 3 credits, I have to write a 15-20 page research paper on any topic relating to British libraries or librarianship.

In a perfect world, I would have written this paper while I was over there, since I’ve discovered that most sources I need to write my paper are only owned by British libraries. Or Harvard, but that place is like Fort Knox. But, I was only over there for 2 weeks, in which time I tried to wrack my brain to come up with a topic so that I could at least begin my research. I didn’t land on a topic until the last day or two (and I’ve since changed that topic, but whatevs), and I squeezed in as much research as I could while I had the UCL library available to me, but it wasn’t enough.

In a slightly less-than-perfect world, I would have written this paper right when I got home, when all things British-libraries were still fresh in my mind. The wrench in the gears this time around was two-fold: 1) my summer class actually started a day or two before I even landed back in the States, and 2) that class turned out to be a lot more work than I had anticipated. I thought it was going to be a blow-off summer class, but the prof had us doing so much busy work that I didn’t even have time to think about my paper, let alone research or write any of it.

In reality, my goal is to get this paper done before my next semester starts (end of January) because the spring is looking to be a semester from hell. However, I just finished a semester from hell and really have no motivation to write anything other than Christmas cards, and even that motivation was questionable (but I got it done). I even changed my topic to something more fun and with slightly easier-to-find sources, but I still just don’t want to write a paper. At all.

If I don’t get this paper done before the end of January, the seminar won’t count towards my degree and I’ll need to take another dumb summer class so that I can graduate. I don’t really want to do that. So that should be some motivation, right? I wish. If anyone feels the urge to come over my place and light a fire under my bum, I would be much obliged. Possibly a little angry and most certainly burned, but much obliged.

25 Songs from the iPod of DGobs

…because apparently I can’t come up with my own topics for blog posts lately. Anyhoo, here’s what pops up when my iPod is on shuffle:

1. “Wrong ‘em Boyo” by The Clash
2. “Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands” by Snow Patrol
3. “The Girl Next Door” by Moe’s Haven
4. “Evacuate” by The Boxer Rebellion
5. “Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd
6. “Bank Robber/Robber Dub” by The Clash
7. “The Storm” by Seth Lakeman
8. “Blue Jay Way” from Across the Universe
9. “The Rainbow Connection” by Kermit the Frog
10. “You’re All I Have” by Snow Patrol

Aaaaand I just realized that I posted this “25 songs” thing with only 10 songs. Way to go!! Here are the missing 15:

11. “Taxi Driver” by Gym Class Heroes
12. “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2
13. “Superman” by Stereophonics
14. “You Could Be Happy” by Snow Patrol
15. “The Prisoner” by The Clash
16. “Sea of Heartbreak” by Johnny Cash
17. “Yellow” by Coldplay
18. “Girls Should Drive Automatics” by Elijah Wyman
19. “Reason for Living” by Westlife (this is the song that destroys any musical cred I had built up in this list)
20. “Keep the Car Running” by The Arcade Fire
21. “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones
22. “Low” by Flo Rida
23. “Jingle Bells” by James Taylor
24. “What I Go to School For” by Busted
25. “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel

I’ll See You That “Phoning It In…”

…and raise you a “not even a half-ass attempt at a blog post.”

I’m still thawing out after standing on an empty commuter rail platform in central Massachusetts for what was probably 10-15 minutes but felt like an hour, in the freezing cold and windiness, waiting for a train that never came. MBTA FTW!

Major props to my Mum and Jack for driving me home.

I’m now off to drink a hot beverage and cuddle under several blankets. Cheers.

Mini-Rants for the Week

My brain is too scattered today to write anything cohesive, so here is a list of rants that have been bouncing around in my head. Feel free to call 9-waah-waah when you finish reading.

-If you’re going to wear those hideously stupid Ugg boots, dear God, at least lift your stupid feet up while you walk so the whole world doesn’t have to hear you clomping down the sidewalk/hall/T platform/etc.

-How hard is it to look where you’re going and to be aware of your surroundings?! Please don’t stop in your tracks in the middle of a crowded sidewalk to change songs on your iPod or to read that text you just got. Please don’t walk three-abreast down a narrow sidewalk and refuse to move when someone is trying to walk the other way. Please don’t step directly into my path and then glare at me for getting in your way when I’ve been on the same trajectory for the entire length of the street.

-Why, yuppie/hipster hybrid man, did you feel the need to cut in front of everyone at the bus stop yesterday – everyone, literally, even the adorable old lady who had been there way longer than you – to get on the bus first, where you then stood in the middle of everyone’s way, refused to move, and stole the first open seat available… robbing it from the same adorable old lady? Did you not learn how to wait your turn in kindergarten? Did you mom not teach you manners? Why can’t people queue properly?!?!

-Dear Stompy, my upstairs neighbor: Is it not enough that you stomp around from approximately 7 am to midnight every day? Do you also have to steal my packages? And hog all the hot water every single morning? And leave your trash strewn all over our section of the driveway? When I’m in charge of the world, I’m sending you back to New York faster than you can clomp across the length of the house (read: fast).

-Dear Japanese tourists: Stop taking my picture. I’m not an MIT student. I do not work in a zoo (though it kind of feels like it with this big ol’ window next to me that’s at eye-level to everyone outside). I will start flipping you off if you try to photograph me again. You’ve been warned.

-Dear 90% of the cyclists in eastern Massachusetts: You know you’re technically using a vehicle, right? Please learn the rules of the road or I will have to start kicking your back wheels. I’ll do it. I swear. Next cyclist that almost runs me down when I’m in a crosswalk and you’re going the wrong way down a one-way street, your spokes will have my footprint in them. For realz.

-Dear Sloanies: GET OUT OF MY DREAMS!!!

That is all.

My New – and Probably Silly – Dream

So I’ve kind of become vaguely obsessed with roller derby lately.

My interest started when I went to a Boston Derby Dames bout to cheer on my friend Salome Splatter. The peeps I went with started talking about what everyone’s derby names would be… and that coupled with how awesome roller derby looked just sparked something in my brain, I guess.

This past weekend, I went to a derby shop in New Hampshire to get some roller skates. (Even though I skated terribly at the rink a few weeks ago, I sensed a tiny bit of improvement and had so much fun that I want to keep going). I ended up getting completely kitted out (shout out to Bad Ass Mama for hooking me up!) and left the store with a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, wrist guards, a mouth guard, spandex shorts full of padding, and oh yeah, some roller skates.

So now I have this budding obsession that makes me want to go skating every day until I can actually, you know, do it properly, and then get involved in a derby league somehow, and then eventually try out and see if I can cut it as a derby girl. Which, when I think about it, is kind of bizarre. Me? A derby girl? Shirley, you must be kidding. Let’s weigh the pros and cons, shall we?

Pros:
-It’ll be a whole new kit to get obsessed with. (Most of the reason why I play soccer is for the kit, sadly.) Wheels!! Bearings!! Cool socks!! Funky tights!! Ruffle butts!! Skate upgrades!! zomg!
-Every derby-related person I’ve met has been super awesome. If I play derby, I’ll get to hang around super awesome people all the time.
-Good exercise/will keep me active.
-Related, will probably get me into bitchin’ shape for soccer.
-I’ll have a sweet (read: badass) new name to go by.
-I have a ton of fun skating, and if I keep doing it, I will probably suck less and less. Ergo: even more fun.
-If you make it onto a team, they teach you how to fall properly and stuff so the chances of you getting seriously hurt are less.

Cons:
-I’m very breakable, and derby is an intense contact sport.
-It’s a pretty big investment, both time-wise and money-wise. This is a variable concern depending on my school situation.
-With the popularity of Whip It and the growing popularity of the sport in general, there’s a whole lot more competition and the chances of me getting onto a team are, I’m assuming, slim.
-Seriously, I’m scared of breaking my collar bone or my face or my brain or something.

I feel like I came up with more pros and cons earlier, but they’ve escaped my brain. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, and figured a weighing of pros and cons coupled with a good old-fashioned mind dump would kill a couple birds with one writing stone.

Hmm, and now my entire brain seems to have escaped. I’ll take that as a sign that I should stop rambling now.

Hot Dog Annie’s FTW

Imma take a stab at one of Jeremiah’s recent Plinky prompts: Name the worst-looking place to get the best food.

Now, I’m not sure if Hot Dog Annie’s can compare to Dairy Dandy, or whatever the place Jeremiah wrote about was called, since I haven’t seen the Iowan establishment in person. (However, the photo was pretty fabulous). But, I can say that Hot Dog Annie’s isn’t the most glamorous restaurant/food stand in the world, and yet (or perhaps “thus”…?) holds a special place in my heart.

Nestled on the edge of some woods up in the hills of Leicester, Massachusetts, sits a wondrous little place called Hot Dog Annie’s. On summer weekends, the line coming out that door on the side of the building can stretch across the parking lot, and maybe then some. There’s no indoor seating – only a cluster of picnic tables or, if those are all taken, the inside and/or outside of one’s car – and no bathrooms – only the woods with a fence for some privacy. (There were some very unappetizing bathroom-related instances involving my cousins when we were toddlers or young children that have made me give that fence a wide berth ever since).

And yet, out of that tiny building flows the most delicious hot dogs, and other treats, I’ve ever consumed. Their barbecue dogs are a must, their homemade root beer is refreshing and tastes like childhood, and even their grilled cheese sandwiches are pretty freakin’ awesome. Questionable health code standards at Dogger Annie’s or not, this place rocks.

Runner-up: kebab vans.

I’ve always been wary of consuming food out of trucks, especially given their not-so-affectionate nickname of Roach Coaches. However, I was won over during my semester in England when I bought my first late-night meal from a kebab van. These things look so dodgy, especially with the giant hunks of doner kebab meat that rotate under heat lamps in the open air, but the food is pretty good when you’re starving and nothing else is open. I think they make their real money after the clubs close and all the hungry, poor, drunk students take to the street.

One of the things I liked best when I started working at MIT was the vast number of food trucks on campus. Though there are no proper kebab vans, you can get various kinds of kebab and Middle Eastern food, as well as burritos, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, and even vegan-ish stuff that’s not too bad. I dig it.

Reflections on Becoming 75% of a Librarian

(Originally posted at A Fool Notion).

O GOD WILL THE MADNESS NEVER CEASE?!

Classes 8 and 9 in my Quest for the MLS have been tucked not-so-neatly away, after what felt like an eternity of term papers, procrastination, quasi-all-nighters, caffeine, countless knots in my shoulders, and lots of rides in the waaaaambulance. It wasn’t my best semester, as I was hit pretty hard with a case of grad school senioritis, but it’s over. And, unless my Preservation professor gets all sadistic, I should make it out of this semester from hell with my 4.0 intact.

I wish I could say that was an accomplishment, but I really don’t think it was. It’s common knowledge among all my friends and co-workers who have gone through library school that it’s pretty much impossible to get lower than an A. Case in point: Most of my assignments for this term’s History of Books and Printing class received grades in the 80s, yet somehow I got a 94 average for the class. (Although, apparently someone in that class got an F. I guess it is possible!?)

It’s sad to admit this, but the only thing I really got out of this semester was the realization that library school is basically a form of “professional” hazing. There was a scandal in Massachusetts last month, involving upperclassmen on a high school girls’ soccer team leading blindfolded freshmen recruits around on leashes and then hitting them in the face with pie. The girls responsible were barred from the play-offs, and the girls and their parents were in an uproar because “they didn’t hurt anyone” and “it’s something that’s happened for years, so why is it a problem now?”

This story led to almost daily headlines in the Boston papers about hazing, and it got me thinking. Library school is a bit like hazing. It’s a “rite of passage” that’s just “always been done.” If you want to be a librarian, you’re forced to waste your time and money on more or less worthless classes, when you learn SO much more on the job anyway. If you don’t suck it up and get your MLS (so many people I know have called this degree “just an expensive union card”), it will be nearly impossible to climb the library career ladder, have any chance at making “good” money (“good” meaning fractionally more than $30,000 per year unless you become a director), and some card-carrying librarians will refuse to take you seriously because you didn’t agree to get put through the same initiation ritual that they did, and they’re probably bitter.

And so, after starting off this fall semester excited to actually learn something a) practical (Preservation) and b) history nerd-arific (History of Books and Printing), I’ve come away yet again disappointed, unenlightened, overtired, and a touch depressed at the fact that I’m getting hazed in order to earn the privilege of calling myself a librarian. At least I know I only have two classes worth of hazing left, and then I’ll be free.

Huzzah.