Hogwarts, another short story, and One Week

[unforth]

One week from today, I leave Japan. Well, one week from an hour from now is when the flight takes off, technically. I move out of my apartment next Sunday; I've still got three more boxes to send (one of which isn't packed yet) and two suitcases to pack and all of the random odds and ends I'm not taking still need to end up somewhere, but then I'm done.

Today, after forgetting and procrastinating for days, I finally booked myself a hotel. It's a Hilton in Narita with a free shuttle to the airport. It'll be $100 a month, and I'll be staying there on Saturday and Sunday, but the expense is made up for by the fact that I won't have to take a cab to the airport, which is over $200 on it's own. With two days of the room, I can make the trip out by train in a couple of trips and bring all my luggage that way, and then take the shuttle on Monday. It works out well, in truth, and while it won't SAVE any money, it'll only cost slightly more. Since I would have had to stay in a hotel no matter what, it IS cheaper than getting a hotel and then taking a cab, by at least a hundred dollars.

I'm so busy with the grants that I'm not really thinking about what's coming, except in vaguish ways. Right now, it's almost entirely happiness to be going "home" even though "home" seems to mean some vague generalized combination of Bloomington and New York. And then I think that it should be odd to me that Bloomington is home when I only lived there a little over two years, whereas it's tied with New York where I lived for 22 years, but that's just how it is. As much as I like Japan just as Japan, my biggest sadnesses are related to people - that I'll be leaving my D&D game and the folks there (at least 3 of whom, at least, I should be able to see next summer - 1 at Gencon and caspiangrey and her husband live in Columbus normally, where I am relatively often due to my brother) and that this destroys any chance of my seeing skygawker and ireneadler again before I leave. Indeed, I don't yet know if I'll be able to see anyone again before I leave, though I'm hoping to meet up with caspiangrey one more time.

I actually am glad for the grants. Though it's a huge pain that they are due on the 10th, I think it'll be REALLY nice to have the relief of being done with them tied with the going home, and will ensure a cheerful Claire despite jet lag, and they're keeping me from getting sad about leaving here. Still, I've started to think about all of the things I didn't get around to doing. This should make me sad; I think I know why it's not, though. It's quite simple. I know I'm coming back. It's not an "if" or a "some day." Once the company is doing a little better, and I can get a raise, and start saving money again, I'm going to save up the cost of a trip here - it's not that much if I come for a month and live at a Sakura house apartment again, that'd only be 2k plus food and fun stuff - and I WILL come back, and I'll bring my mom, and ultimabaka will visit, etc. It's just a fact. And so whenever I think of something I won't get to do, I just think, "oh well, next time."

What I'm going to do in the states, on the other hand, is a growing list of what I'm excited about.
-On Monday night, I'm going to the mall, and I'm getting a cell phone. After four months without one, I'm desperate, and I want to be able to make plans EASILY and distribute the number.
-I want a turkey sandwich, a filet, a canoli, Pizza Hut, and a calzone. And a Cadbury Cream Egg. And some cheesecake, but that's just universal. And Special K. And Pepperoni. OH!! Pumpkin PIE!! How could I forget the Pumpkin Pie?? All of this will, I think, help to make up for the the loss of onigiri, Mochicreams, daifuku, and zarusoba. Especially since I can learn to make two of those things myself easily enough (I already know how to make zarusoba - cook soba, chill, add sauce).
-I can't wait to have a kitchen, an actual kitchen, so I can cook and bake again.
-My dog. Nuff said.
-The gym. Nuff said.
-Going to the theater!
-Hanging out with my friends. Doing anything, doing nothing, and it being so much fun that I never want to go home.

Those are the big ones I can think of right now, though I'm sure there are more. :) I think of them from time to time, and go, yeah, it'll be great when I can do that.

I don't think I'll really be able to write what I miss until I'm home, but I know I'll miss mochicreams and daifuku. And going to Cafe Geeva and buying fresh bread, and the crowds around Nakamise, and Ueno Station, and the guy who sings, and the smell of tatami, and watching unsubbed anime on TV. I'll miss Mandarake and the 200 yen doujinshi, and the knowledge that if there some anime thing I want, I can probably find if I look hard enough; I'll miss how cheap shitajiki are. I should probably stop; thinking about it IS making me sad.
One week. If it's anything like last week, it's going to pass in the blink of an eye. And then I'll be on a plane, and starting over...again...

caspiangray wrote up an awesome brief fiction piece related to the mess we made of yesterdays D&D game (my last session) and asked if I would do the same, and hers rather inspired me, and so...


A year ago, Flaglaminira's life had been easy. Oh, she hadn't thought it was easy at the time. No one would have unless they had something worse to compare it to. Still, after so many years serving the Long Knives, they no longer suspected she was anything but their agent to the core, and after even more years serving Rual, they knew that there even stronger hold on her held. She had hated Rual to her core, and liked Ninnoreth no better, but her family would die if she didn't serve Rual, and she would die if Ninnoreth learned she was a spy, and so she did as the Long Knives asked, and she did as Rual asked, and she did her best to sabotage all of it. Easy.

A year ago, Flaglaminira didn't have any friends. She knew many people in many walks of life, and she spent much of her time out and about with them, but they were not her friends. They used her, and she used them, and though everyone knew it, everyone simply maintained the illusion. And this had suited her. What gnome needed friends outside of her family? And her duty was clear; she couldn't go to her family, she couldn't warn them. She did what she did for them and for no one else, and when she could be sure they were safe she would return to where she belonged, and leave all these people behind, and she'd not regret it at all.

Flaglaminira was dead now. Regirsirani had killed her. There had been no other choice. It was the only chance - a slim one - to save her family, and they were no family of Regirsirani's. She would never see them again.

Regirsirani's life was never easy. She was too close to being Flaglaminira. The panic brought about by the Zone of Truth had caused her to make mistakes. She had allowed herself to be left as a gnome because at the time the idea of being anything other than a gnome had been to horrible to contemplate. She had enlisted in the Neath army because her companions had done so. She wanted to stay with her companions. Flaglaminira had thought they were useful; Regirsirani thought they were her friends.

And now she would not ever see them again, either. She prayed she wouldn't. If she did, it would be because Alamuan had sent them to kill her. No one deserts the Neath.

The Alemak were not good traveling companions. She told them she was going to serve her god, and instead they regaled her with why she should serve Dashni. She'd known far to much of Dashni to ever want to do that; Solomon talked of little else. Solomon was insane. Yet even he was more tolerant than these others, and his strength of character had opened many doors. And caused many problems. She didn't mind leaving him behind.

The others, though, filled her thoughts. Devlin, with all his well intentioned honor, and Teneb's delusion that he was a fighter, always amusing to watch the both of them. Zelig, the only truly good person she had ever spent time with the, the only person she had never seen stray from that mythical thing, "the path." K'irikh, so competent except when it really counted, but brave and noble despite himself, in his own self-preserving way. And Windir, led astray by Solomon, who had found his honor again so recently; Windir, who she had trained with, who had helped her learn Neath. She thought again and again that perhaps she should have said goodbye to K'irikh, to Windir. What remained of her practicality had strictly forbidden it, though. K'irikh, for all that she liked him, she didn't trust; the note that she had left him had said enough, that she was leaving and wouldn't be coming back, and that he should do the same. She couldn't let herself bring more suffering to Windir, and if he knew where she was, where she had gone, asking him to deny it would cause him pain. Windir's suffering had been much of what had brought about her current course. Windir's suffering, Zelig's suffering, and the suffering that her concern for them had, shockingly, caused her.

Regirsirani had friends. And Regirsirani had something that Flaglaminira would never have understood. She had guilt.

She had always believed in what had to be done. When she went to Zelig to clear her conscience, he didn't understand, he thought her concern was over the torture that Solomon and K'irikh had done, her role in it, but that wasn't it. The man had been a bastard, and what happened to him didn't matter. And what happened to her family, as awful as it would be when the Rual found them, was awful but was not her fault, she had done the best she could. But, just days ago now, her actions had brought about far worse. Two good men fought a duel for honor - she had never understood honor - and another was tortured for it. Ninipaha died for no reason, and Windir, she thought, surely wished he had died rather than face the disgrace that he had suffered; one she had respected, and the other was her friend, and the guilt she felt at her role in bringing about their suffering had shocked her to her core.

At times, Regirsirani thought that if this guilt, this sadness, this suffering, was what it meant to have friends, then curse the day that she had ever made them.

At times, Regirsirani missed them terribly, and for the first time in her life she felt terribly and truly alone.

The Hogwarts is pretty long today, and includes my under word count day that I scraped together after some minor insomnia caused by working late last night.

In the end, all I can really say is that the Black’s reminded me very much of the Prince’s, which meant that I liked them well enough when they were not being stuck up, and the rest of the time I smiled and nodded as if I agreed and looked forward, in my own mind, to the conversation changing to a more genial topic. Indeed, though my parents had not brought up a topic of this nature when I had seen them two nights previous, I noticed now that I found it even more irksome than I had in the past. Perhaps Marcus’ tolerance was growing on me? Or the insight that the war had given me on the close relation between muggle affairs and wizard affairs had increased my sympathy? Whatever it was, I even once or twice found myself introducing changes of topic, in the most vociferously offensive instances, as subtly and flatteringly to the speaker as I could. No one seemed to notice, thankfully, except – I think – Marcus.
On the 26th, Marcus’ parents came in a very fine carriage and we said our goodbyes to the Black family. Grandfather Black suggested strongly that I should be brought again, and the Headmaster expressed his pleasure that Marcus had brought me, and I was very pleased over all. Not all of the family had taken a liking to me; indeed, some had very obviously taken an intense disliking to me immediately when they discovered that I was there with their muggle-loving, blood-traitor relation, but the two who mattered most (to me) approved, and that was all that mattered. That, and Marcus’ own parents, of course.
Up to now they had seen little enough of me, but the journey to the estate at Whitebrook was quite long, and cold, and given the lack of snow most of the country on the way was distinctly ugly. Thus, there was little to do but to distract ourselves from the unpleasantness of the journey by intense and animated conversation. After the maneuvering of the last day, I’ll say it took me quite some time to get in to the spirit of such talk. It’s not natural to my character, and I think that at first Mr. and Mrs. Relious found me frighteningly akin to my parents in terms of my reserve and restraint. However, Marcus went out of his way to draw me out – I think he feared his parents would not like me – and, in truth, the two of them were such friendly and honest, forthright people that I soon found myself communicating more openly. There were, of course, many things simply does not say to the parents of a suitor no matter how much openness there is, but within those boundaries are still many acceptable topics, and we chatted pleasantly on those, about Christmas, and travel, and family, and the country, history and magic and all manner of topics. In a long trip, conversation will meander in a unique fashion, I’ve noticed.
There was something in their behavior that at first I could not place. We were seated facing each other, me next to Marcus and his parents together, and it took me sometime to realize that when I was speaking, they were watching Marcus, and when he spoke, they were watching me. In their subtle way, they were seeking to get a first impression of how things stood between us. This, I feared, was doomed to failure. We were both so generally reserved in regards to our affection that I very much feared that they would conclude that we felt little. On the other hand, it felt utterly inappropriate, horrifyingly so, that I might “play up” that regard. Still, it was on my mind, and I wished that I could ask, but of course there was no way to do so.
My concern might have grown to a frightening proportion if not for our arrival at our destination. Very far from the hustle and bustle of the city, and far too from the more dismal tracks of our journey, Whitebrook was nestled amongst forested hills rather far to the north. Indeed, my knowledge of geography was scanty, but I found it unlikely that any normal horse and carriage could have made the journey in two days, much less in 6 hours, but I did not ask. The building itself was a strange amalgam of building styles; turrets and buttresses indicative of time spent in a former incarnation as a castle stuck up incongruously from the slated roof and neat manor house that now composed the majority of the building. Built in a fairly modern, Victorian style, the building sprawled. Even from a distance, it felt warm and cheery, and, for the first time, there were hints of snow around. It was colder here than in the city, too, and I wished I could get closer to Marcus for warmth. I wondered, for the first time, why we hadn’t come by Flue Powder, or apparated. Perhaps they simply preferred this way.
Mr. Relious and his wife emerged from the carriage with relief; he immediately pulled a pipe out of his pocket and lit it as if going without it for so long had been tortuous. Mrs. Relious, meanwhile, looked towards the house as if expecting something, and her gaze was rewarded when two young girls came bursting out of the house – a demure governess trailing behind the, who carried a trailing blanket wrapped on a bundle carefully, surely Marcus’ 1 year old sister, Victoria – and all latched on to their mother at once. Various cries – “what took you so long?” and “we got back ages ago!” the only audible ones – filled the air as the girls all chattered excitedly at their mother.
Marcus stepped out of the carriage after his parents, and held out a hand for me. His chivalry was not to be, though, as the girls noticed him and started to talk even more loudly and tackled – the only possible word – their brother. I was left to the difficult task of emerging on my own (woe!) and smiling. Marcus was an adorable older brother; he ruffled hair, spread compliments, and asked questions, responding to the answers, somehow all at once. I had virtually no experience with children whatsoever, and I could only marvel at his dexterity. The girls couldn’t seem to get enough of it; they didn’t notice me at all.
Whitebrook seemed very large from up close, and it was decorated all over for Christmas. Fairy’s floated everywhere, tossing glitter all about them negligently, and every where the glitter fell sparkled as if it had snowed. I wondered if perhaps the glitter might have any uses in potions, and then caught myself with a smile – to think of such a thing! More appropriately, I wondered if the glitter would glow at night, for that would be sight. Garlands of mistletoe, with bright berries, hung all about, and pine branches with cones, multiple decorated Christmas trees were on the lawns. No one seemed to care that Christmas had past, and somehow that seemed only right.
During these reflections, I suddenly noticed that the girls were no longer making noise. They – and Marcus, and his parents – were all watching me, watching the house. “Oh!” I exclaimed, blushing, “it’s charming! Delightful! I’ve never seen the like.”
“Who’s she?” asked the youngest girl, pointing at me.
“She’s a friend of your brothers,” Mrs. Relious.
Marcus, rising to the invitation to introduce me himself, said, “Delia, these are my sisters, Emily,” the eldest, who was, I thought, perhaps 12, “Christine,” the middle child, 8 or 9, “and my sister Victoria is with Ms. Littledon.” He turned to the girls, who were waiting as patiently as excited girls that age could, and continued, “this is Delia Prince, a classmate of mine at Hogwarts, who has accepted my invitation to join us.”
“Delia!” exclaimed Christine delightedly.
“Ms. Prince,” corrected her older sister, with a look that made it clear that SHE was old enough to know her manners; the look was ruined by her giggles, though. The younger, meanwhile, didn’t care, and I soon found myself bemusedly being hugged and fussed over by the girls as their brother had been. I, unlike him, had no clue what to do, so I answered what questions I caught, and laughed, and tried not to make an utter fool of myself. I thought, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus’ parents smiling, but I couldn’t be sure, since somehow the two girls were as distracting as could be.
“It’s freezing out here,” Mrs. Relious suggested, “we should go in and say hello!”
The girls pulled me along eagerly; Emily asking her mother if I could stay in her bedroom, and then Christine said it should be her, and they proceeded to argue as their mother smiled indulgently and went inside. Marcus and his father trailed behind, but I didn’t have time to consider it, for the girls were now asking what I thought, and I had no idea what the right answer was.
I was hit by a burst of warmth and noise as I came in; the house was quite as full of people as the house in Grimmauld Place had been, but the atmosphere was so much more pleasant that no other comparison could be fairly made. The halls were decked out for the holidays, cheerful portraits smiled and waved and swayed as if they’d drunk too much egg nog; calls of merry Christmas came from every direction. Soon people were being introduced to me and shaking my hands and saying I was delightful, while Emily and Christine stood with me as if guarding me and marking me as theirs. Marcus disappeared amongst the family, and I was left to try and keep track of who I’d met and what their relationship to him was. When I was free of those, the girls bombarded me with questions. What was Hogwarts like? What house was I in? Was I going to marry Marcus? Where did I get that purple ribbon? Did I keep a diary? What was my family like? What did I think of Whitebrook? Would I please, pretty please, stay in Christine’s room? Emily’s room? They also gave the kind of running commentary on their family that only little girls can be indulged in, and I blushed and was shocked that no one seemed to take any offense and, indeed, some of the lower comments were met by laughter and dismissal by the offended – or, indeed, not at all offended – party. I’d never seen anything like it.
A house elf, as round as he was tall, came up to me with a tray of sweets and insisted that I take some; when I took only one, Mrs. Relious appeared from the gathering and scooped a few more on to my hands. “A girl your age? You are far too thin! Here, try these, they’re delicious!” And then she was off again, socializing and smiling and laughing; I was so startled that Emily stole from my hand whatever it was that was so delicious. It was for the better; if I ate that many sweets I’d never want dinner; I wondered how Mrs. Relious, who was only a little on the plump side herself, could ever endorse it. And I wasn’t so terribly thin, at that. I eyed my reflection in the mirror, only to notice that Christine had decided to play in my bustle.
If not for the previous day’s preparation, I think I would have found it all rather overwhelming. But everyone was so nice and welcoming and solicitous that I found it hard to be put off despite myself. I listened to family anecdotes, answered questions about myself, got asked repeatedly – by those without Emily and Christine’s excuse of youth! – if I was marrying Marcus, and seemed to meet with approval by most of the family. The general opinion, indeed, seemed to be that I was a little on the dull side, and it was the first place I had ever been where my manners counted against me, for they all seemed to feel that I was rather no fun. I was amused to note that whenever this got mentioned in my hearing, though, the girls would stoutly defend me.
My favorite of his relatives, other than the girls, was surely his Uncle Greyweather, who would regale anyone who would listen with tales about his world travels. At first, I thought it was all nonsense, but when he saw my skepticism, he started producing souvenirs from these adventures, including a dragon’s tooth and a cockatrice wing. I took him more seriously after that – I knew enough to know they were genuine, and they were never the sorts of body parts that beasts would have parted with willingly. One particularly interesting tale involved him and a group of good-willed fellows in a run in with a fellow named Nox, over a coven of Werewolves.
The first day was a swirl of talk. As the holiday passed, though, things calmed down. Family from afar began to leave, and the days, at least, grew quiet, though there were dinner parties every night. Marcus’ father, who I knew worked at the Ministry, turned out to be the head of the Ministry’s Magical Education department, so a range of Hogwarts governors, ministry officials, and the Headmaster were there one night; another, the entire party, other than the family, seemed to be composed of half-blood and muggle-born wizards and witches, and full-bloods who I knew to a one to be considered blood traitors. I’d never gotten to associate with such people before, and I was both rather surprised and not at all startled to find that they were much like everyone else. What, in fact, had I expected?
Marcus’ sisters, who failed to their mother’s permission for my residence in either bedroom, followed me around the house like my shadow unless something more interesting came along, which didn’t seem to happen often. They asked all manner of questions that I’d never expect, and seemed to think I was something very interesting. I would have thought it was my age, but for the fact that of course there were children of all ages amongst those who came and went; with so many friends and relations the girls must have more exposure to teenagers than that! Still, they weren’t the only ones open about their approval of me. Mrs. Relious, always flouncing around and entertaining, always pink cheeked and smiling, was constantly trying to feed me, sending the house elf, Gregory, round my way with trays of the tastiest morsels available, and I did my best to please but I could only eat so much. Mr. Relious, in the meantime, would ask me serious questions and listen attentively to my opinions, and meet me in equal terms in a way that few adult men of his position would ever have listened to a 16 year old girl. Hardly anyone mentioned my upbringing; those who did seemed to think it rather counted against me than for me. I decided that I’d rather come from a family like mine than be trapped between a family like this one and the Blacks, as Marcus was. And I’d rather have a family like this than any of the other choices.
The opportunity to see Marcus in his native element was, I’d say, the most precious part of the trip. It wasn’t as easy to get time with him as I had hoped, for the house was busy and the girls were tenacious, but we still were able to spend more time together than we had before. Indeed, after the first few days, as Mrs. Relious warmed to me, I noticed that the girls would get called rather often, and only ever when there was no other task for Marcus or myself to be doing, and that at those times we’d suddenly find that there were no other adults around either. On one amusing time, Mr. Relious came in acting perfectly normal and getting ready to settle down in a nearby sitting chair, then realized that we’d been alone before, and hastily realized he’d forgotten something and had to go. It was nice to know that they thought well enough of me to go to the effort.
Marcus, as always, was charming, intelligent, and dashing. More so than usual, perhaps, when I could see him when there were no responsibilities or worries tying him down. We walked the grounds – which were stunning, for it snowed the day after I arrived – and explored. He tried to teach me to ride a horse, but he forgot that it’s very different for a girl in skirts than for a man, and the effort ended with me getting tossed in to the snow and him apologizing for it for the rest of the evening even though I insisted it had been no big deal. We toured every corner of the house, trolled for unknown corners and hidden holes in the highest towers and the deepest basements, and came back dusty and laughing over the “treasures” we had found, old bottles and buttons and little bits of nothing. And we talked, of everything, of nothing, making hour long conversations out of what others could have passed over in a moment. By the end of the week, I was certain I was in love.
All too soon, though, the holiday was done. No amount of importuning by Emily and Christine could slow the time, and when the day came, though they begged, pleaded, and cried, Marcus and I had to go to the station to return to school. His parents packed the empty space in our trunks with leftover food, the girls cried that we’d best return very soon indeed, and we took flue powder directly to the fireplace used for this purpose on the platform, to assume the responsibilities of school once again. I resented school at the time, and wished bitterly I didn’t have to go back. I wonder if I’d have felt differently if I’d known just how soon everything was to change forever.

Comments

[unforth.livejournal.com]

Seriously...it's mind blowing to me how four months can pass so damn fast.

Then again, I've been noticing the last few years how ALL time seems to pass fast. And that this advantages as well as disadvantages. Ah well.

I'm slightly jealous, though, cause you get to stay for 6 more months. :)

[skygawker.livejournal.com]

6 more months, or maybe 18...which I don't necessarily even WANT, but I don't know what I want to do when I grow up still. :p And I have to apply to graad schools and I don't know what to apply to and ahhhh, I don't know what I'll do when I go home if it isn't grad school. Sit around my parents' house for another year doing a boring job in my hometown area, I guess!

But yeah, time passes fast. Really fast. It's scary.

[unforth.livejournal.com]

If it's the choice between sitting around at home and staying in Japan, I think you should stay.

And don't worry about the school thing. It's better (and much cheaper...) to wait until you know better than to go just because you think you should. :) - this from a girl who has 38k in student loans from going to Library Science school when I'm almost certainly never going to be a librarian. :)

[skygawker.livejournal.com]

Oh, that I know from experience -- a less dramatic version of yours, actually. I started a grad program but then found out it wasn't right for me. I have $10,000 in loans already to pay off. Very frustrating, since I had no debt after undergrad! >_< So I'm afraid of getting more debt, but I'm also afraid I'll NEVER decide on one thing I want to do. I think that's just against my nature. But eventually I have to pick (and pay for) SOMETHING....

Actually, library science is something I'm considering. My mom is a librarian (assistant director of a library, actually) and she and many other people there tell me how perfect I would be for library science. The problem, I think, is almost that I'm TOO perfect for it. It would not challenge me or make me grow, really. But is that GOOD or BAD in a job? It WOULD suit my talents very well. Alas. If you have any thoughts on the pros and cons of library science and why you chose to do it but then decided you'd never be a librarian, I'd love to hear it -- once you're settled back down again that is!

[unforth.livejournal.com]

"I'm also afraid I'll NEVER decide on one thing I want to do. I think that's just against my nature"

That, I'd say, is precisely the problem I had. And quite simply, the reason I chose library science was because I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself.

In terms of uncertainty and variety, there are actually several major PROs to library science. It's not a monolith: there are at least 4 distinct "tracks" to follow:
1. Public Librarian: the local PL drone. Do reference services for the people of your city, circulations, collection development, that sort of thing. Pretty vanilla, fairly "same thing every day."
2. Academic Librarian: work at a university. Much more varied, in general, and much more specificity, since most medium to large size colleges have very large and varied librarians and need a variety of specialists - knowing an Asian language with reading proficiency is a major advantage in this field, by the way.
3. School Media Specialist: work at a public school library. I can't say much about it, cause to me this is so utterly unappealing that I never thought about it twice. Try to get kids to read.
4. "Other." Also known as "Special Collections Librarianship," this category covers all the range of specialized libraries, everything from libraries dedicated to presidents, to law and hospital libraries, to rare books (my specialty). So one of my friends (sapphohestia is a medical librarian; most of the people I knew at school were in rare books, since that was what I was doing.

All of these have their own crazinesses, but as you can see even at the top "tier" there is a lot of variety, and if you have the degree it's VERY easy to switch around, since the main skills required for most of these fields are very similar (being able to write computer cataloging files, knowing how to give reference services, collection development, that sort of thing) and the classes that TEACH those skills are required at every LS program I've seen. So it's relatively easy to switch around, especially if you are not at all picky about where you work (where in the country, that is) and how much you're paid.

Beyond that, though, there are even more options. closetgnome, for example, also got a Masters in folklore, and now works at a museum. There are archives, libraries, and online repositories. All of the types of librarianship have their specialists, and there's people on the fringe - my goal was (is??) to be a conservationist, for example - hand skills + LS degree + experience (which I have from a student job and an internship).

I'm not saying it's perfect. In the end, you are still a librarian. I'm probably going to hardly use my degree at all at the rate I'm going. But it does open up a lot of options. All of which are related to libraries.

The big con is MONEY. One does not get rich as a librarian. Indeed, one often doesn't even get all that well off.

I'd say the only way to find out if it's right for you is this - when you get back to the States, try volunteering! Public libraries and museums ALWAYS need volunteers, so you can try that (if museums appeal, by the way, consider studying curatorship instead of library science); many academic and special libraries take volunteers as well.

Well, that's everything I can think of, but I'd happily say more if you're interested or have questions. I went to library school because when I was in college, I had no idea what to do, and my mom was like "you know what suits you? Library science." ...and so I did. :) And I discovered that I like some aspects of it (collection development and cataloging in particular, and of course my beloved rare books and conservation) and hate others (I hate users. I hate people in my library. This arises from my experiences working in a book store - I loath customers. ;) ) but I know that if I wanted to, I like librarianship in general and could pursue it.

[skygawker.livejournal.com]

I know this is late, but I just wanted to say THANK YOU for this post! It really gave me a lot of good stuff to think about. I am now thinking very hard about the possibility of purusing a library science degree. I don't know if I mentioned that my mom is the assistant director of our local public library, and that I've done two jobs there (library page [shelving] and computer page [helping people use the Internet]) but I have sort of resisted library science as a career path because...well...I'm not really sure. I had reasons that sounded really good before, but now I think it would be a really good career path -- at least to consider, if not to ultimately choose. I would definitely love to hear more about your experiences if you have anything more to say, or if not, I'll just come and ask when I come up with more specific questions. But for now, thank you for the food for thought!

[skygawker.livejournal.com]

And now that I've posted this and see the whole thread, I see that I posted some of those reasons and the bit about my mom already. Heh. But anyway, I shall save your post in my LJ memories file so I can look back at this as I think more. ^^