There's an unhealthy stereotype of librarians as little old ladies who wear cardigans and put their hair in buns.

I object to this stereotype. I'm not entirely sure what a cardigan is, but I'm pretty sure I don't own one. In fact, Ive been forced to conclude that I'm not even the most stylish librarian in Wilhelmsplatz. Peresepolis has me beat. She's always wearing cooler clothes than me. AND she's old enough to be my mother. I'm ashamed.

Rumor has it that Gwynhfer has me beat, too, but I don't see her every day, so I don't have enough evidence to be sure. Also, she couldn't be my mother, not unless she raised her skirts when she was really young.

The stereotype further breaks down when you consider that lots of librarians are men, and it breaks down even further when you look at my hair. These days it's cropped really short, and it's purple kinda, and it stands up in some really funky ways if I wake up early enough to apply hair goo.

I am so happy about my new haircut. The whole time I was with Backwater I could not beg, intimidate, or seduce anyone into giving me a decent haircut. (Did not actually attempt to seduce any of the hairdressers, and you wouldn't have either, if you'd seen them.) Here in Wilhelmsplatz I have discovered Hairdresser Jeff, and he is the greatest person ever. He let me communicate in adjectives, like this:

• Hairdresser Jeff: "What are we doing with your hair today?"
• Me: "I want hip! Trendy! Groovy! Edgy!"
• Hairdresser Jeff: "Awesome!"

Hairdresser Jeff says that next time we can explore color options. Also, Hairdresser Jeff knew what my license plate meant. (It says MUGL.) I think I'm in love.

My hairstyle is so very badass that I just might take a picture of it for you folks in distance places like Kansas/Missouri (which one is it, Marian? I can never remember) can see.

No! Better! Here's a picture!

In real life my neck isn't that long and graceful, but otherwise that's pretty much spot-on. Oh, and I have a nose in real life.

But back to the original point: is that the face of the musty stereotype?

No, no it isn't.

There. With my compassionate, mature artwork, I have demonstrated that I do not have a bun.

...crap. Didn't address the cardigan thing. Or maybe I did. I'm not wearing one in the picture. In fact, I'm not wearing anything at all. Teehee!

There's another stereotype of librarians as being shy introverts. This one is harder to argue against. Most (though not all) librarians are bookish, and most (though not all) bookish people keep to themselves.

It's certainly true in my department. We are not the bubbliest softdrinks in the fridge. And, you know, that's okay...

...except that, for now, my department IS my peer group. I just moved here and I don't know anybody except for the people I work with. (And Hairdresser Jeff, can't forget him.)

I'm trying to remember each day to leave my desk to go visit the other departments. I still don't have a clue what most of these people's names are, but hey, at least I'm chatting with them.

Still though, the people I see most are my cohorts in Adult Services. [I will never stop thinking that "Adult Services" sounds naughty. Never, never, never.] So I was delighted when Mellicent suggested we get some people together to go out for Greek food.

Unfortunately Mellicent got sick, but Persepolis and Currer Bell and I gamely went for Greek without her. Predictably, we spent a lot of time talking about books, but A) so what? Talking books is fun! and B) none of us wore cardigans.

I've been with Wilhemlsplatz one month today. Let's do one of those, whatchacallems, those... er... thingies they do at the end of the year. You know what I mean... retrospective, that's the word. Let's do a one-month retrospective.

Today a teen came up to the desk and asked for help on his senior research project. He's studying whether street car racing should be legal or not. And it was the damnedest thing-- I was able to help him. I was amazed. He was amazed. We were both amazed that I managed to find him some books and some database articles on drag racing.

After I walked him over to the call number he needed, I headed back to the desk with a big ol' sloppy grin on my face. I couldn't help it. I was so happy that I made this kid happy. This, ver batim, was my thought: "Gosh, I have the best job in the world!"

That is not a typical thought for me. I avoid optimism with religious intensity. It is entirely out of character for me to use exclamation points, and prior to today, I had not realized that "gosh" is in my vocabulary. It is impossible to maintain an image of wry disaffection with pollutants like that creeping into one's speech. Thank God I didn't say it aloud. What would people think?

So that's the good news. I really, really love my job. I already have a passle of patrons who like me, who stop by to chat and keep me apprised on their reading, their research projects, their step-children's iTunes collection. Every day I get the opportunity to help people, and... well... gosh, it feels good.

I also get the opportunity to look smart. The other day I guy came in asking where he could find books by Robert Heinlein. Said he liked Starship Troopers and wanted more by the same author.

"Have you read Stranger in a Strange Land?" I asked him, not missing a beat. The guy hadn't. He really grooved on my improptu booktalk and he just about thought I walked on water when I showed him our Heinlein collection.

Really now-- that was a softball question. It took no special background knowledge or mental dexterity for me to help this guy out. But he didn't know that, and he was just thrilled to get a friendly response. He walked away happy, with a stack of books in his arms, and I looked like a rockstar.

I have a job where I routinely look smart and where I get the bubbly feeling from helping part on a daily basis. Cool.

But I'll be honest, I'm feeling lots of stress. Not from the job-- it doesn't hold a candle to the anxiety I had in Backwater-- but because, as Marian reassures me, two of the biggest stresses in life are moving and getting a new job.

I'm working very, very hard to understand the personal dynamics and social norms within my department and within the library. That in itself is a fulltime job. Though I pride myself on my intuition and my ability to understand people, I'm no great shakes at reading social situations.

Brief sob story:

When I was in second grade, we moved from Mississippi to North Carolina. (Thank. God.) Several months after the move I sent out invitations to all the girls in my class. I wanted them to come to my first-ever birthday party.

...You guessed it. No one came.

Almost two decades have passed, but I'm still that same kid, albeit with boobs and glasses and a college degree or two. As was true then, I have trouble making friends and doing, you know, social stuff.

Am I happy I took this job? Absolutely. I have the best job ever at the best library ever.

Am I a nervous wreck? Yeah, that too. I just about cried when I went to the local coffee shop today. I forced myself to go: not only did I want to celebrate my one-month anniversary, I wanted to take precautions against hiding in my apartment all the time. Did enough of that in Franklin, thanks. And I do so like coffee. More than life itself, if you must know.

So I put on my fuzzy jacket and pretended I looked like Helena Bonham Carter and I walked over to the trendy/hip coffee place.

But I was by myself! And it was noisy! And I didn't know what to do!

Where was I supposed to order? Where was I supposed to pick up my order? Where was I supposed to sit? Was I supposed to sit before I got my order, or was I supposed to loiter? Where was I supposed to loiter, if that's what I was supposed to do?

After waffling and feeling nervous I decided to sit at an innocuous looking table, and I hit my head on the overhead light. That's when I almost-- almost-- started crying. I managed not to. Would Helena Bonham Carter cry? Would Helena Bonham Carter get all nervous because she was in a new coffee shop?

...have to say, getting coffee wasn't nearly the relaxing Bohemian experience I had anticipated. But at least I tried. Maybe next time I'll look suave, or at least not completely inept.

To recap this one-month analysis:

Job satisfaction: 100 gazillion percent

Social comfort: er... needs work.

The Queen of Claremont has brought a terrible circumstance to the attention of the Queen of the Libraries. Namely, the Queen of Claremont is underrepresented in this blog.

The Queen of the Libraries is mortified. We (that'd be the royal We) are going to make immediate recompensation to Her Highness and Her sovereign nation in the form of leftover Halloween candy. Her Highness and Her Royal Consort will be granted full diplomatic immunity for all future visits to Wilhelmsplatz, and We will make futher reparations for a variety of past indignities, such as slavery, apartheid, the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, the Bubonic Plague, and the Full House sitcom.

...so the entry title is a pun on King & King, a controversial children's picture book that has been reviled, disputed, and outright banned. It's your run-of-the-mill children's story about a prince who's lookin' for true love, and, as you would expect, he does find his heart's content at the end of the book. It's just that he winds up hitched to a boy monarch, rather than a girl monarch.

Out of curiosity I checked to see if Wilhelmsplatz owns it. (Many libraries failed to purchase the title, either because of the mediocre reviews of the artwork or because they wouldn't touch that kind of controversy with a 10 foot pole.)

The good news: yes, we have a copy.

The bad news: we are censoring fascist pigs.

We have a copy but it's hiding in nonfiction. Someone, somewhere, decided to shelve this make-believe picture book in nonfiction. The subject headings clearly show that this is a fiction book, but it has been relegated to the 306 section. That's Dewey for "culture and institutions."

Quiz time! This sort of behavior is known as

• A) censorship
• B) bullshit
• C) homophobia
• D) the encroachment of faith into the public sphere

Ha, ha! That was a trick! All of the answers are correct!

Mine, alas, is not the only library to shelve K&K in nonfiction. The logic in putting it there is to protect parents from accidentally checking out a gay-themed book. If any parents actually want to find K&K, they won't get it by browsing the kids' fiction books, sensible though that would seem. Instead they'll have to go out of their way to look it up in the catalog.

This infuriates me. Some parents don't want to read gay-themed books, sure. Me, I don't want to read "If you don't believe in Christ you're going to rot in hell" books, but I'm not asking anyone to hide them in nonfiction. Being a literate adult, see, I can make my own choices about what books to check out and which ones to pass over.

By hiding K&K in nonfiction, we're denying parents the grace of serendipity. So many times we find great books accidentally, just by stumbling across them on the bookshelves. Why should this title be removed from the serendipitous choices?

Yeah, I know, some people don't want their kids reading about gays. Seems pig-headed to me, since gays, you know, exist. (Gays also raise children, some of whom may be playing with your children, right now.) But hey! Do what you want! Prevent your kid from reading King & King-- that's your prerogative as a parent. But so help me God don't you dare prevent my kid from reading King & King.

Not that I, uh, have kids. But it could happen. I could do the hetero barefoot-n-preggers thing. In fact, I am barefoot as I type this. I am halfway there.

Or even if sperm and egg don't meet, I could adopt. Seems to me the ideal way to do things. I could get myself a whole passle of children, some of a black variety, some of a brown variety. It would be yet another way to piss off the far right.

So anyway, let's pretend I'm doing the domestic baby-raising routine and that there's a daddy in the picture. And while we're in this fantasy, let's pretend I learn to cook, and that I start keeping a spotless home, and that I don't have stretch marks. This is fun!

There I am, the perfect picture of a breeder mommy. You might suspect that I want to protect my children from King & King (and Heather Has Two Mommies, and Daddy's Roommate). You would be wrong. You don't have to live a gay lifestyle to read gay books. Or consider: I am not black, but I like to read Alice Walker. (Why, one of my favorite authors is black!)

But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. We have the blessing from our state constitution to practice discrimination against gays.

I am moving to Canada. I mean it. Or at least Vermont.

Librarians like to go to conferences. On the surface, this is because we enjoy learning new things, meeting with vendors, and networking with colleagues. In truth, we suffer through the learning, meeting, and networking only because we know there will be a party at the end of the day. The post-conference party is the reason-- the only reason-- we have conferences. Ask any librarian.

I got to the conference early-- early, mind you, on a day when I wasn't supposed to start work till 1-- to hobnob with the vendors. This is a very important part of conference attendance for any librarian. The reason it is so important is because each vendor has free candy, pens, books, squeezy rubber stress balls, novelty bobblehead toys, bookmarks, and/or dildos to give away. (Have not actually seen a Free Dildo display. Vendors take note.)

The most remarkable vendor interaction came when I sidled up to the Behemouth Industry Juggernaut (BIJ) booth. "Hi," I said. "I'm Jessica Kennedy-Rockefeller with Wilhelmsplatz."

Both exhibitors stopped in mid-sentence, gave the cold shoulder to the people they'd been chatting up, and turned to me in awe. The one fellow dropped to his knees, promised to divorce his wife, and proposed marriage. The other lady presented me with a 14-carat diamond-encrusted tiara. The Juilliard String Quartet appeared from the sidelines and began playing my favorite chamber music. An Angel of the Lord apparated in a very tasteful halo of fire. Birds sang. Bunny rabbits hopped. World peace ensued.

I swear, my own mother has never greeted me with as much enthusiasm as the BIJ folks did. I mean I'm used to warm receptions and fawning admirers, being Jessica Kennedy-Rockefeller and all, but good day. These people really, really like me.

Attended a very cool session on Library 2.0. Lots of cool ideas on blogs, social networking sites, wikis, website syndication-- cheap or free trendy technologies that libraries can use to woo patrons/users/customers.

(Sorry, but I can't get into "user." I realize that "patron" makes us sound like Medicis, and "customer" makes us sound like Wal-Mart, but user? "I'm sorry, ma'am, Alyosha can't come to the phone. He's helping a user." ... "Yes ma'am, I realize I'm a pale imitation of Alyosha, but could you possibly compromise your integrity and permit me to assist you?" ... "Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am. It's an honor to place a hold on this James Patterson book for you. You're number 438 on the hold list. Yes ma'am. Go to hell, ma'am.")

Attended a thoroughly useless session on the application of websites as a marketing tool. Had such insightful advice as "it should look good!" and "patrons can use your website to check the catalog!" Waste of time. Want my forty-five minutes back.

Then scurried off to the liberry to work the desk for a few hours. Got to know Jim Casy better. Through stories, got to know more about Jim Casy's older sister, Jim Casy's other older sister, Jim Casy's younger sister, Jim Casy's mom, and Jim Casy's dad. Quiz to follow.

Then scurried back to the conference to claim my free margarita. Then to claim the free margarita of a friend from liberry school I'd run into. Then to claim the free margarita of a former coworker I'd also run into.

Hung out with several of my new coworkers. Debated politics with spouse of one of said coworkers. Deflected lewd comments from some aging has-been frats. Comported self with perfect grace, articulation, and clarity, or leastaways that's how I remember it.

Glad I got the chance to hobnob with a few of the folks outside my immediate circle of coworkers. There are a great many departments at the library. In fact, this library has more departments than my former library had warm bodies working for it, subs and volunteers withstanding. (This new library has to turn away volunteers, there are so many. It's obscene.) I'm starting to get to know some of the personalities that populate the Other parts of the liberry, and what a motley group it is.

Let me put it this way: my new purple hair fit right in. This is very, very encouraging.

Got my ass kicked at a game of Trivial Hirsute. (This pun works, technically, because there was cat hair around.)

It was Trivial Pursuit for Readers or somesuch. Every question was a book question. I was glad to have my ass kicked by a master. And it wasn't an across-the-board-game ass-kicking. It was a mild trouncing, really. Either one of us could have won. (Well... if I were going to be honest, I'd admit that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell I'd win, but that's not a very flattering picture, so let's stretch the truth and say it could have gone either way. Okay? Thanks.)

The ass-kicker was Nebuchadnezzar, one of my new coworkers, who kindly decided to take pity on the new girl by keeping her company for an evening. We got some pretty good Thai and then spent an evening talking books.

One of the many reasons I wanted this job was for the coworkers. There are some very savvy librarians around here. Their knowledge puts me to shame. It's great. I'm surrounded by book experts and I am going to leech them for everything I can.

Started my book proposal today. I'm proposing to write a genre guide to Women's Nonfiction. (Is this even a genre? Beats me.) Dig the awesome title I came up with:

Just the Ma'am Facts

If I can convince my editor to let me publish a book by that name, then it will be worth all the effort it takes to write the book.  More updates on that as it progresses.