Photo courtesy of Sarah G. (She rocks!)

One of my take home messages from SLA 2009 was that I might just be one of those hipster librarians. I refuse to fully accept this because I live in the San Francisco Bay Area, which has a higher than average concentration of hipsters. Of course working on a university campus, and at the campus radio station, has exposed me to some really hip kids. This is why when people call me a hipster librarian I scoff. Of course I’m not a hipster compared to the kids who ride around North Oakland on fixed-gear bikes and listen to Animal Collective or Vampire Weekend. (OK, I’d ride around North Berkeley on a three-speed listening to the Black Lips or Jarvis Cocker, but let’s not quibble.)

So how did I come to the realization that I might just be one of these hipster librarians? Everybody kept calling me one! I have the glasses, the bad (DIY) haircut, the white belt, piercings, tattoos, and skinny jeans. So superficially I fit the bill. I don’t see myself as a hipster (though I suppose real hipsters never admit to being one), but looking at unflattering, candid pictures, I can see how somebody would assume I fit the bill. The problem is that the whole designation is quite superficial.

So if most people think I am a hipster librarian, what does that mean as an information professional? I don’t really know. I guess it means other hipster librarians have to act like they don’t see me, because they’re either too cool for other hipster librarians, or don’t want to be seen as flocking with other hipster librarians. (Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.) I know there were times when I’d see people who fit all the traits of the hipster librarians, but I couldn’t go talk to them because any reason would be largely aesthetic. Instead we just stared each other down in passing. (This happened on more than one occasion.)

Honestly, I’ve been trying to think how this superficial stuff will affect me professionally, if at all. Other than being easily stereotyped, which honestly, there are too many nuances to hipsterdom to do anybody justice, I don’t think it’s too bad. People who write me off for my white belt and lip ring would probably also write me off for a whole host of stupid reasons. They probably won’t listen to any of my ideas on how to integrate new ideas into the profession or how we can totally ditch the past. Instead they’ll see my tattoo and assume I’m annoying. My tattoo doesn’t make me annoying. My ideas and opinions might, but that’s also true of non-hipster librarians.

Sure, some librarians take style overboard, but as long has you have substance to back it up, you should be OK. It’s why I won’t go talk to a librarian because they look cool. That would be shallow. If they happen to be a sharp dresser and they have something interesting to say, then I’ll talk to them. I hope people would be willing to treat me the same.

And if you want to see real hipsters, don’t go to library conferences, go to Williamsburg, Portland, San Francisco, Chicago, Austin, or other similar cities to see what they look like in the wild.

And if you see me at a conference, feel free to ask me about my white belt. You should always try to match your belt with your shoes. (I would prefer to talk about Jarvis Cocker, though.)

photo source

I don’t talk about my job very much because it’s not that interesting, unless you’re into transportation in which case it’s fascinating. (Topics you should avoid around me: parking, air traffic control, bus routes, and traffic congestion.)

Last week at SLA 2009, the Transportation Division launched its new 7 Things, because 23 Things was too many. I say that somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but honestly 23 different things can be overwhelming.

For a while now I’ve tried to encourage my colleagues to engage with these new tools and see the value of using RSS feeds, blogs, and wikis, which has sort of become ubiquitous. Our 7 Things makes it manageable, contextualizes each concept, and gives the support from community which might encourage people who would otherwise find it too difficult. It’s too early to say whether or not our 7 Things will work, but if the response at SLA was indication I am hopeful. I’m also excited that we finally have a platform on which we can discuss how these technologies can impact our workflows.

photo source

I meant to blog something from SLA 2009, but I never quite found the time to do it. I was busy with stuff for the Transportation Division, which is my main camp in SLA, but also the Unconference track. The SLA Unconferences were borne out of SLA Leadership in January. I asked Karen Huffman of the KM Division if something like that would be possible, and a few weeks later it was on the wiki!

I have to say, the Unconferences were the most enriching part of SLA for me. It was really great to hear so many ideas and opinions about the profession. The first one was a little slow, but I think that was because we needed to figure out our audience somewhat and how to do it. The Academic Division’s first programming at SLA was their Roundtable/Unconference, which was a success! (OK, so I helped moderate it with Amy Buckland and Margaret Smith.) It was great to see so many people active and participating. For the rest of the conference people came up to me and thanked me for the session, when all I wanted to say was, “You’re the reason the session was great!” Some things that I will remember about these sessions:

1. Make the rules of unconferences clear. This may not really be a new concept for many people, though the brand is. By outlining expectations for participation, or the lack there of, it creates an environment where people have a better idea of what to do.
2. Go with the flow. That sounds trite, but it’s important and reiterates one of the rules. If people want to talk about how their organizations are clamping down on social networking sites, then that’s what they’re going to talk about. If you want to talk about something else, you either speak up or follow the “law of two feet.” (Leave.)
3. Find the balance of voices. I think this was the trickiest part for me. I like to talk, a lot, but I didn’t want to dominate the conversation. I also tried to be mindful of other people who were dominating the conversation. Going with the flow means, people who want to talk the most will be able to do so. How do you draw people in who aren’t speaking up? Short of calling on them, trying to ask open ended questions and make eye contact can sort of work, but I think that’s something that will never really be remedied, not that it should be.
4. Give people time to get used to it. People go to conferences with the expectation of being told what to do. It’s a little weird for some to be told they need to be active as a presenter. With encouragement, it will happen. I’ve talked about the need for people to be active consumers at conferences before, and these unconference sessions enabled that. Perhaps these sessions were the gateway to a new way of thinking for many of the participants? I hope so.

I really hope we can do something like this at SLA 2010!

Recently we’ve been watching The Twilight Zone a lot at my house. Many of the episodes are very dated, though offer an interesting insight into the psyche of the era. (Lots of fear of the “other” and interesting notions of “alien”.)

Right now we’re watching Obsolete Man, starring Burgess Meredith as a librarian who is deemed “obsolete” by a dystopian future. It’s a good episode, but I can’t help but feel it’s talking to me directly, as if I’m actually in the Twilight Zone. (I half expect Rod Serling to jump out from behind the sofa.)

All of you library types should watch this episode. It offers a nice reminder of what this profession means to society, and that people are always trying to brand others as “obsolete”.

The Advanced Program for Internet Librarian 2009 was just announced today. Are you as excited as I am? Maybe?

Will you even be there? Budgets being what they are, this seems to be a terrible fiscal year for professional development and travel. I know this is already an issue for SLA next month, but I expect IL09 will be hit even more severely, but I could be wrong. (I hope I’m wrong.) I’ll be attending, not only because it’s almost local and travel costs nil, but I’m also presenting a lot. I’m still a little shocked that I was selected to present at all, let alone three times, but I hope it goes well. (I promise, no LOLcats.)

I feel somewhat torn about this whole thing though, and I think I need to either accept it or just let go. I’ve written in the past about the cliquish nature of the library world and how it may be offputting. The only way you can really change anything is by making an effort. I did that. I submitted multiple proposals and now I’m presenting. That’s a change… sort of.

I looked through the program to see the other sessions. I’m excited to see new names, but at the same time I can’t help but notice the usual suspects talking about their standard topics again. Meredith Farkas wrote about being the expert in a field, such as wikis or mashups. It’s a feed-back loop – the more you present about something, the more of an “expert” you are, the more people look to you to for information about that topic, the more they want you to present. Lather, rinse, repeat. I am already worried about getting dubbed the “social media” expert in transportation, especially since I’m not the only person in the field working this this stuff. There are lots of exciting librarians out there doing interesting work, but I think some of it overshadowed because they don’t get the opportunities to brag about themselves. There are two sides to this – 1: They don’t offer themselves up to present because they don’t think they’re worthy compared to the “experts.” 2: They might be overlooked because they are too new, green, or inexperienced at selling themselves. (Few librarians are natural marketers.)

So, I’ll be at IL09. I’ll probably be sleep deprived but in awe of finally being a “producer” instead of just a “consumer”. I also will be thanking everybody who encouraged me not only to submit proposals, but helped coach me in writing them so that I articulate what I actually know and want to present. It’s a skill everybody should learn. That way, we can all become the experts.

Maybe it’s some sort of post-graduate ennui, or maybe I’m reverting back to an existential adolesence, but I’ve found myself asking “What’s the point of it all?” too often these past few months. What am I working for? How am I making a difference? Am I making a difference? You know, the sort of big questions that nag at you when you’re trying to sleep at 3:00 am. Or maybe they don’t, but this sort of self doubt is what drives me now since I don’t have school to push me.

Mary Carmen Chimato is one of my library heroes. Scratch that, she’s just one of my heroes. (She’s also a fellow Dragon!) Recently she blogged about stepping outside your comfort zone. The thrust of the post is that sometimes you need to be uncomfortable to be a better professional and try things you may not find natural or easy. She writes:

The point I am getting at, rather circuitously, is that doing that self-reflection and work was difficult and at times extremely uncomfortable. Being honest with yourself, the type of honest where you admit you have faults, is painful. However, it is also invaluable to our development and improvement and when you are committed to changing, the results can be life changing.

For Mary Carmen, this introspection has helped her become a better manager. Management is rough and I think one of the most under appreciated aspects of the library profession (or any profession, really). There’s nothing sexy about being a manger, rather you have to make the tough decisions and you can’t be anybody’s friend. You also get a lot of the blame when things go poorly. A good manager is a thing of beauty and I definitely look to Mary Carmen for direction in that regard.

How have I stepped out of my comfort zone? I’m trying to be a mature diplomat. Don’t laugh. This is work. I’m still young, at times petulant, and still learning how to balance the drive to change and innovate with the need to work with others. Unfortunately, there is truth to the cliché that librarians are passive aggressive. Not all, but I think it stems from not being comfortable with change. (Shock!) When I’m broaching sensitive subjects, which seems to be every project I’m working on, I need to have empathy towards those I’m working with. Will they understand this new wiki? How can I sell Twitter to them? What is my issue with the taxonomy, and how can I make it clear it’s not personal. If I care about something enough to get emotionally invested in it, I owe it to myself to take the time to communicate with my colleague to not only articulate my point but understand their perspective. It’s hard. It’s not me. I have to do it.

Of course, every time I tread towards a delicate area, such as telling somebody their plan isn’t very feasible or they’re behind the curve, I fret about how to let them know I disagree with their way or there is an issue. Perhaps it’s because the tiny voice in my head is a little snarky and then I over compensate and get frustrated, but I’m always worried about coming off too aggressive (to fight one stereotype) or too bratty. I think this is something I’ll always struggle with.

Today I read two blog posts that made me think, “Duh! Isn’t that obvious?” But if two of the library world’s most esteemed bloggers are writing about it, then maybe not?
One was David Lee King talking about Darien Library’s Extreme Customer Service (or should it be Xtreme?). The other was the Library Rebooted.

The message I gleaned from both posts is:

1. Libraries need to endear themselves with their user community.
2. Libraries need to convey some value not easily replicated by the internet.
3. Libraries need to make an impression on their users, preferably positive.

So what do cupcakes have to do with that? Well, I know my users (primarily grad students) love baked goods. Giving them free cupcakes during finals could be called extreme customer service, but it goes along with the whole library as the living room concept. If libraries are to survive, they need to not just be a place for books, but a place where people actually want to go and feel like part of the family. This is a mutually beneficial relationship – users or patrons get what they want or need, and libraries have a better understanding of what those needs and wants are and how to provide them. Of course people will want to be a part of that! (On both sides.) It’s sort of like that coffee shop you love, or your favourite record store. I know I could make a pot of coffee and save money, but I also like the experience of going to the coffee shop on the corner. I could easily buy that new record from a place like Amazon, but I go to Amoeba Records or mail-order from a small distro, like Little Type, for the experience and the interaction. I want going to the library to be the same sort of experience for my users, and I try to foster that sense of community. It can be difficult with limited resources, but little things definitely help. My library may not yet have an ILS, but we have free candy, a white board for math problems (or doodling), and computers for homework, Sim City, or internet quizzes.

Have a discussion with your users and it pays off.

A couple weeks ago I went to a Wall Street Journal marketing event called Taste & Talk. We’d get to taste their wine as a promotion for WSJ Wine, and then we’d listen to people talk about how to use information in tough economic times. It was ostensibly a pitch for their Business Smartkit, which they wanted us to go back to our organizations and recommend. I commend them for only spending a couple of minutes talking about that, and really focusing on the food and wine (which I couldn’t have because of the whole vegan sXe thing) and networking. I like soft sells.

When I first received the invitation, I was confused why I was invited. It was clear once I got there librarians were a target audience. My friend was surprised that I could spot all of the librarians in the room, but I tried to explain that we sort of have Spidey-sense about these things. It was nice talking to corporate librarians about their roles in their organizations and how their careers have changed over the years. The most interesting part, to me, was the fact that none of them had the word “librarian” in their job title. It’s as if “librarian” is too dowdy or simple for the corporate world, but “information manager” is OK. This is why lots of people want to be called “information professionals” instead of librarians. I know the name issue is not new, but it still always astounds me.

I do like the idea of all these corporate librarians being SLA members and doing library things but under the cloak of “information professional”. It’s somehow subversive to me, like the fundamentals are still important but the branding isn’t.

Photo source.

The fabulous Kathryn Greenhill recently blogged about rewarding conference speakers at Computers in Libraries 09, or conferences in general. It was an interesting and thought provoking post. Instead of a gift bag of sponsor shwag, Greenhill would prefer:

I wonder whether we could replace the Speaker’s Gifts at some of our conferences with sessions just for the presenters. While I appreciate that I was given a copper-coloured stainless steel water bottle of challenging design, I wonder whether it would be more of a reward if the money spent on this was pooled for something to stimulate the presenters’ brains and challenge them. What if as a speaker’s gift, speakers only could attend a good, high-tech level session or track of people from outside of librarianship? If this seems elitist and unfair (and carrying around a copper coloured water bottle isn’t?) then I think it would be a real incentive for new people to step up to the plate and start presenting.

This has stuck with me for a week since I originally read it. Is it elitist and unfair? I think she recognizes it. Does it really encourage more people to submit proposals to these conferences? I don’t really think that’s the problem.

Anna Creech, aka eclectic librarian, wrote a nice response:

I like the idea of this, but I also worry that it has the potential to widen the gap between creators and consumers. I benefit greatly from being able to listen in on the discussions between the speakers in LobbyCon/CarpetCon settings. And, even when I am in sessions that challenge my skill set, I am motivated to expand that skill set, or at the very least, I know more about what I don’t know. I’d rather have that than continue in ignorance.

The idea of creating a divide between the creators (the speakers) and the consumers (the conference attendees) is difficult to ignore. That’s something that has never sat quite right with me since I joined the library profession. It seems that a lot of librarians are quick to lionize conference presents and bloggers simply because they are deemed authoritative. It’s a positive feedback loop. If somebody presents and blogs about a topic, they are deemed an expert, and then expected to keep presenting and blogging about that topic. It’s difficult to break in and stop being a consumer and become a creator when people are slow to look towards others. That’s not to say that unless you’ve been deigned by the library blogosphere or ITI as being worthy, that people won’t listen, but it is an obstacle to overcome.

In my first Uncontrolled Vocabulary I called in to, 61: Define successful, I said that I was tired of the same people presenting the same stuff at Michael Sauers, challenged me to submit something. Well I had, and it was seemingly ignored by ITI. That didn’t stop me from submitting a few proposals this time around, but I’m also less than optimistic that anything will be picked. Does it mean that my work is pointless or somehow less important? No, and I don’t think that any of the “creators” would say it does, but at the same time people expect you to present something to make it seem more legitimate. That’s a problem with the system that starts with individuals.

Another issue I have with the idea of rewarding speakers only, is that it really reinforces the divide between the “creators” and the “consumers”, making it an even greater obstacle to move from being an attendee to being a speaker. If the speakers’ reception/LobbyCon/bar crawls are where the real action is, how can people who are new to the scene get involved in that? My first Internet Librarian was a intimidating because I didn’t know anybody and I saw all these people milling about and having lively conversations, but it was hard for me to join in. Of course, a lot of this was me being awkward but I think some it also stemmed from people being happy to see old friends and not necessarily paying attention to the lost people new on the scene. I’ve since tried to overcome any shyness (don’t scoff, I am socially awkward), but it hasn’t always been met with great results. I’ve tried to have conversations with people whose blogs or presentations I respected and am interested in only to be given the cold shoulder. You know that situation… it’s very high school. “Oh, that’s nice…” (awkward pause) “I have to go.”

This situation really reminds me of the punk scene I grew up in. I was sort of a groupie. I would spend hours talking to bands at the merch table about their music, life, or whatever. I was very fortunate that my favourite bands, The Hi-Fives, were nice enough to take the time to actually talk to me. I think we all gained something from that relationship. It reminds me of an interview I once read with Dr. Frank, I guess now Frank Portman, of the Mr. T Experience (or “King Dork”), where he said that he feels the need to connect with fans because they’re what keep him in business. They buy his records, or books, and keep him around. I know I tended to be happier to give my money and time to bands who seem invested in their fans, or “the kids”, as much as we were invested in them. Why isn’t the library world like that?

From my somewhat young upstart view of it, there’s not as much mutual admiration as I’d like. Or… there’s not as much mutual admiration between the “creators” and the “consumers” as I’d like. I know most of the people who speak at conferences love speaking with each other and learning from one another, but the attendees and other passive consumers need to be a part of that equation. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait for some trickle-down effect which doesn’t seem democratic. Also, how are we to get the next generation of “creators”? Through luck, networking and nepotism? I’d hope not.

Photo source.
For years I couldn’t name anything more obnoxious than the crazy frog, but I stand corrected. I’ve long thought that the DMCA was ridiculous, mostly for the broadcast implications, and that DRM was just a band-aid that irritates people and doesn’t actually prevent piracy. Well, today a student came into our library to see if we could purchase a case study from the Harvard Business School. Should be a simple request, right?

Wrong.

HBS has an almost punitive rights statement which makes it nearly impossible for libraries to purchase case studies for their users. Why? Money, of course. By virtually ensuring that everybody has to purchase their own copy of a paper, it guarantees lots of money for the HBS. It’s a veritable cash cow! I remember when I had to purchase a case study for a class, I was a little shocked that everybody (all 30 of us) had to plonk $20 for a pdf of the article.

So now, the library can’t purchase a document we would love to have and we have to shrug and hope the student can afford the document for find somebody else who can. (I actually don’t want to know about it.)

These sorts of policy not only hinder access but also get in the way of research and progress. How obnoxious, even more so than the crazy frog.