Admittedly, I’m at a weird spot in my career. I’m embarking into a new direction, scholarly communication, but instead of focusing completely on this new service it was added it to my reference, instruction, and outreach duties, most of which I’d gladly give up in order to concentrate on this one area. And as time passes, it may be that shucking those more traditional services becomes easier.

As such, I haven’t developed a professional development or research plan, and don’t need to at this point, since our ad hoc team meets weekly as we make decisions regarding the naming and branding of our IR. But, this new direction has set me thinking about assessing my research priorities as well as developing other skills. For example, I don’t know XML, so my colleague recommended I turn autodidactic and look through our Safari collection for an eBook on the topic so I’ll be up to speed to help her with those backend functions when that time arrives.

Obviously, reading my way to success is one way of plotting a roadmap to success, or skill attainment. Umair Haque writes that  putting what, why, and who you love ahead of what, why, and who you don’t helps your roadmap write itself. What he means by that is simple: injecting meaning into everything we attempt, or finding the meaning, the why in what we do.

When your roadmap is cobbled together haphazardly it leads you down blind alleys, into impassable hedgerows, and deadfalls like the kind you read about in those Stephen King novels (oh it was that one about the dead baby coming back to life Pet Sematary).

Is there meaning in your library practice? Was there ever? What lead you to librarianship? I love books and information, had worked in libraries as a paraprofessional, but mostly understood the power the (public) library had to change people’s lives for the better and I wanted to be a part of that.

Mindful construction of your roadmap will benefit your library practice and set you on the path that is right for you to follow in meeting your vision of librarianship. Haque says you have to own it, live it, eat it, sleep it, even get down in the mud and roll around with your roadmap because–and I’m extrapolating–it will lead you to your best librarian self:

The roadmap you need to follow is deeply, resonantly, profoundly, and irrevocably your own — the one that calls to you in every dreary meeting, every missed birthday, and every misplaced-but-not-quite-forgotten dream. It’s the one that leads you to your better self. It says: “Follow my lead. Let’s go somewhere that matters — not just somewhere that glitters.”

Intellectual curiosity is an active response to humility. Humility gives people the capacity to be intellectually curious. Conversely, people who are fully confident or arrogant are less likely to question their personal assumptions and outlook of the world. Business builders who are intellectually curious hold a voracious appetite to learn more about just about anything. They devour reading, listen to suggestions, and explore new ideas at a much higher rate than others. They are more frequently asking questions than trying to answer them. Ultimately they become luckier because they are more willing to meet new people, ask new questions, and go to new places.

So what does this have to do with librarians, libraries, and librarianship?

One of the first things we learn as librarians is that we cannot know the answers to every question, and that in itself requires humility. However, our LIS/SIS training endows us with the skills to locate those answers. Having open minds, loosening our curiosity, and putting our Miss Marple, Monsieur Poirot, or Encyclopedia Brown on the trail of the articulated reference questions leads librarians on professional paths to luck.

Naturally, while at the reference desk, we meet new people who ask us new questions. We in turn ask them new questions. Sometimes, we travel to new places, at least in our minds, and explore new subjects and gain new expertise, at least at the surface level–and that’s adequate for government work.

But perhaps you know librarians who are stuck in a rut? Who don’t explore new areas; they have three or four pet subjects and dare not venture out from those disciplines, much less consider thinking across disciplines? Yikes! Is there hope? Can we cultivate curiosity? It is a personality trait. But yes, Virginia, there is hope. You can try new dishes at restaurants, explore new areas of knowledges (which librarians do daily–duh!), break your routine, and find new peer groups.

Peter Bromberg writes about cultivating cultures of curiosity in organizations, i.e., libraries, but doesn’t give step-by-step instructions. Mostly, he reveals this must be a shared value. And so it seems that library teams should work as a group in some type of team-building activity to mind-meld into their creative culture if there isn’t one. Still working on ideas for those, though.

Yet… the Bamboo Project Blog offers ideas along this vein–she also cites Peter B.– like encouraging beginners mind, personal reflection, spending time with preschoolers, and thinking about big questions.

Curiously, Todd Henry, also at HBR, suggests the more stimuli we take in, the more creative we become. He’s probably a secret librarian. I like his idea about compiling bibliography:

Curating a reading list of stimulating articles and books is a great way to forge new neural connections that are likely to yield creative insights. Recording observations can also reveal serendipitous connections.

Coincidentally, within three or four days of each other two different people mentioned the same book, Simon Sinek’s Start With Why, as a starting place for transformation. Naturally, I applied this to transformation of library culture, though one of them, Brian Mathews mentioned it in that regard. If you’re curious and asking why, then Start With Why seems like the obvious place. James Kelley, Education Technology Consultant for Apple, mentioned it at a RODP mobilization initiative in reference to higher education, or K-12, even, at an event I attended prior to ALA, and then Mathews cites it in his Ubiquitous Librarian post, “Why does my library use social media?” at the Chronicle.

While most rote directional reference questions bore us, occasionally one piques our intellect, stirs our curiosity, and may challenge our assumptions of the world. Libraries as place offer a ripe environments for lifelong learning both as centers for on-the-job professional development for librarians and for the regular folk who luxuriate in our space.

Anyway, this HBR article resonated with me because it relates so well with my post two days ago about curiosity and how reading broadly outside of your professional literature, no matter what profession you work within is imperative for innovation and professional development.

Librarians were easily spotted by prey. The red ALA bag gave them away. And many, despite being warned by ALA literature still wore their conference badges around their necks outside of Morial CC which gave their names, place of work, and city of origins, making them easy marks for mugging or busking or whatnot. Spotting them navigating the streetcars was easy–they held maps up to their noses. They staggered onto the streetcars drunkenly, despite not having imbibed cocktails. Librarians, please!

Methinks the humidity unbalanced them. Bartenders commented: “There are librarians in town this week.” And we outed ourselves, to that bartender, because it wasn’t readily apparent that we belonged to that group. Ahem. Dermatologists however, party hearty, have fabulous skin, and much whiter teeth than librarians do. Librarians, take note: Whiten your teeth and dermabrasion.

Curiously, librarians were better dressed than in years past. I didn’t spot the first matching full skirt and floral sweater ensemble typical of 1980′s-era children’s librarians. I should have been an anthropologist or sociologist because I revel in watching the members of my profession flock and flow and flaunt themselves at annual conferences.

As with most professions, people from all subcultures and lifestyles are drawn to librarianship so there are goth librarians, emo librarians, trendy librarians, messenger-bag librarians, roller derby librarians, frump librarians, metro-sexual librarians, suit-wearing librarians, frump librarians, librarians on the verge-of-retirement, sensible-shoe wearing librarians, and geeked-out librarians. There are cool librarians, not-so-cool librarians, and those who fall in-between.

At this ALA, there was a call, a search for America’s Most Glamorous Librarian. They have a facebook page where they posted photos of librarians. Take a look-see. Granted, some posed in cocktail attire at fancy events. Who knew there were fancy events at ALA? Perhaps the votes are being tallied still and no person was named America’s Most Glamorous Librarian, yet.

Then there’s Librarian Wardrobe. I tried uploading a photo of my ALA-friendly Danskos via my iPad, but couldn’t. Someday I might submit.

Lots of folks concern themselves with how librarians dress and how this affects professional identity. As well it should. Did your read Laura Sloan Patterson’s Chronicle article about how academics typically don’t concern themselves with matters of style, but that they should because  as a student Patterson

considered my professors’ clothing a key part of the curriculum, integrated into the content of their lectures, the ways they interacted with students, and their very individuality. 

Good for you if you read the Chronicle because it demonstrates that you’re inching your way outside of the narrow niche of library literature. And if you steep yourself in library literature, like Steven Bell says, you’re not promoting professional development, and may in fact promote professional stagnation. But even better for you if, like me, you read Vogue. Because, apparently too few librarians read Vogue. Seriously though, I take it for granted that librarians are curious and love learning. I assume that all librarians love to read outside of librarianship, but maybe they don’t, because some of the greatest library innovations come from the intersection of two very different worlds. Like, perhaps Fashion and Librarianship.

One of the librarians at my table at the ALA preconference I attended checked her email and announced her Living Social perk (or whatever–I don’t do Living social, so what do I know? right?).

“Twelve Botox ampoules?! What can I do with those?“

“Share them with us?” I said.

She stared at me.

“Or use them all on your underarms. Okay. It’s hot. We’re in New Orleans. We’re sweaty. Botox injected into your underarms prevents hyperhidrosis.“

Of course, I didn’t use the technical term. I’m sexing my dialogue up for this blog post.

This was news to them, the five or six librarians seated at my table, none of whom, apparently read Vogue, where I’m sure I picked up this tidbit of beauty-related knowledge. You see, Vogue is not just for looking at the photo spreads.

So, I’m not saying that Botox and Librarianship will lead to an innovation. But, my knowledge gathered from my outside reading provided an immediate answer to a librarian’s question of “what can I do with twelve Botox ampoules?”

That’s what I call Rapid Response Reference.

Given all the hubbub about V.S. Naipul and his surety about identifying a writer’s sex/gender from a few sentences of his or her prose, and that Social Times sent a link to The Gender Genie in my inbox a few moments ago, I thought I’d play along. This isn’t the first time my writing has been analyzed either for traces of gender or “which writer do you write like?” But I cannot recall who I wrote like. I pasted various passages and mostly the results indicated I was male.

As did the Gender Genie:

Oddly enough over the past two or three years our university’s power grid has failed almost quarterly due to storms. This never used to happen. When it does, it plunges the university, and the library into a panic. For one, the lights go out. For two, the computers go blank. And then what do we do? Almost all work ceases because we cannot go on. Students zip up the backpacks and stalk out of the library. And the past month was horrid for thunderstorms. Our forecast through next week promises scattered thunderstorms. Our grid is mercurially undependable nowadays.

Well, those of us who matriculated from a library school and not an iSchool (snarkity snark), who learned (oh, and I’m just blathering on here now because I’m clueless about trends in LIS or iSchool education, so DO put me in my place if you must) to use print reference sources, who know the LC and the Dewey ranges (because my academic library is a strange bird whose collection is split between the two–our re-class project keeps on truckin’ on), and who can,  do direct users where to find information they seek from traditional sources.

So given all of those typical worries about having all our eggs in one basket, here’s another thing to worry about now: The CLOUD. Wake Forest’s library moved almost everything to the cloud, and I say hooray for them. I hope their cloud has a silver lining. You know, their librarians recently received faculty status, too, and I’m pleased as punch for that; they’re a bunch of worker bees who deserve it.

Alas, the cloud. Is cloud-migration a great idea? After reading an article in GalleyCat about the possibility of an Electromagnetic Pulse Attack,(EMP) I’m not so sure.  Jason Boog wrote about ereaders and ebooks and how an EMP attack

could cripple all our electronic devices in a few seconds.

He argued that instead of trusting your writing to the cloud, that you should be sure to always keep a back up. Good advice.

Because an attack of such magnitude wouldn’t only disrupt our devices, but could potential erase all cloud-held data. Back up your Kindle clippings. And what about your cloud-based iTunes account when that goes live? Okay, I’m silly to warn librarians. We’re cautious folks who save, preserve, and back-up. Right?