My Journey So Far, Or 500 Posts and Counting

It's so hard for me to believe that this is the 500th post on this blog. It all started years ago because I got angry, and that fact hasn't really altered, but so much else has changed. Here are some things that I've notice along the way:

1. It's okay to get angry, but I need to do something with my anger. I used to think it was useless to get angry, even in the midst of my ire. I also know part of my reticence to show anger had to do with the inescapable socialization that women are supposed to be nice. It's okay to get angry, but more to the point: it's important to get angry. Being silent can be seen as agreement, so taking a stand is important. I've come to see speaking up as part of my job, both at my place of employment and in the profession in general.
2. There are like minded people everywhere, just not always right next to me. Writing hundreds of posts, tweeting like a maniac, and generally being myself has brought so many amazing people into my life. Of my closest friends, people who I consider not just friends but family, the unmistakable majority of them are people I met through social media and through blogging. When I started this blog, I was definitely working with some great people, but beyond having "library" or "librarian" in our job titles we didn't have a lot in common. All of that changed over the course of this blog.
3. Mistakes are the best learning opportunities. I never set out to waste time or flub a project, but I can tell you I've learned more from my mistakes than anything else. Best of all, I've learned that being open about my mistakes can save other people a lot of headache and heartache. There were times that I ran events where it almost seemed the staff outnumbered the patrons. Then there was that book review blog we tried to start, for and by the alum of a former school. The blog posts that fell flat. The time I unknowingly offended someone I respect and was called out for it. These were valuable experiences. I do what I can to avoid repeating mistakes, but I'm glad I've had the opportunity to learn.
4. Being vulnerable and being human are the best way forward, even though it might not seem that way at the time. There's that great Oscar Wilde quote, "Be yourself, everyone else is already taken." At first it sounds so ridiculously trite that it should be ignored, but I think it sounds like a cliche because it's so very true. I was never milquetoast or bland, but writing this blog has helped me find and strengthen my voice. I've also been able to find my passion within librarianship. 
5. I have to keep listening. I don't know everything. Yes, I've reached this point in my career that all my mouthing off has started to pay off. I get invited to give talks and asked to write things. I'm currently sitting on two invitations to write books (neither of which I have time for right now, but both of which I want to pursue eventually). Despite all this, I am still and forever learning and growing. Everything from minor issues like new technology to major concerns like a learning theory I'd embraced being called into question. I know I wouldn't be able to continue on this path if I hadn't been writing this blog.

Thank you for whatever part of this journey you've seen, and thank you for reading this blog. Here's to 500 more posts.

Wears Heavy Boots, Is Loud: On "Brutal Optimism" in Professional Practice

At ACRL last year, I attended the keynote speech given by Henry Rollins. (Confession: Hank was the reason I even submitted a talk proposal in the first place. I may occasionally attend the bigger conferences, but my preference has always been and will likely always be for smaller conferences.) It was probably one of the best talks in that vein that I've attended in years. The man practically turned into a librarian fanboy on the stage as he talked about his own experiences with archiving early punk paraphernalia and his experiences at the National Archives. He even quoted the 14th amendment to us, word for word. Henry was a fascinating and riveting presence on the stage, and everyone with whom I compared notes afterwards said that the speech had been an energizing experience.

But, as amazing as Henry Rollins was, there was one concept he introduced during his speech that was even more captivating than the man himself: brutal optimism. I have come back to that idea over and over in the intervening time - playing with it, turning it over and over in my mind. To me, brutal optimism means "I believe the best of people, damnit!" It's fiercely advocating and truly believing that things will turn out for the best, that things will get better, and it means planning for that day - even amidst all the crap (*cough*budget cuts*cough*) that happens. A year and a half into my first administrative librarian position, well into my twelfth year as a librarian, I've decided that I'm going to adopt "brutally optimistic" as a professional touchstone, a phrase I'll consciously revisit again and again to remind myself that it's okay to believe things will be well.

Why am I doing this? Well, in order to explain that, I need to make a confession: I really do believe the best of people. Even when someone is being all craptastic to me, my first instinct is to wonder who treated them so badly that they think it's okay to treat others that way. I know I occasionally come off sounding pretty cynical, but my cynicism is more pronounced because I do actually believe things will improve... it's just that I sometimes get impatient. Maybe it's my study and practice of Buddhism, or maybe it's because I've got a stubborn streak, or maybe it's just that the alternative is too depressing. Regardless of the cause, I am an optimist. (Not saying I don't have my down moments. Being a human being is, by its nature, a roller coaster kind of thing. Just saying that, when all is said and done, I expect good things to happen.)

I guess writing this blog post isn't really about a new direction in my life as much as it's about a public declaration of that direction. Kind of a "Do I think things will turn out well? Yes. Do I think I'll have to fight a bit to help everything turn out well. F* yes." thing.  I'm sharing this with you because I'm hoping others will come out of their cynical shells to admit their inner Pollyannas, and to encourage new librarians not to hide theirs. Like I said, I'm pretty sure it is precisely because I know things will eventually turn out well that I get so angry at times. It's that vision of good things in the future that is the reason I publish posts like Jake Berg's think piece about a very flawed aspect of the proposed framework. It's that vision of good things in the future that is the reason why I keep fighting. (Cue one of my favorite bands.)

How about you? Do you think this is something we, as a profession, can get behind? Can we all become a bit more brutally optimistic?