9.07.2004

Tempest in a [Fucking] Teapot

    Before I begin, allow me to assert that I've no one to blame but myself, and that I've made note of a new, strong personal prohibition against blogging too early in the morning.

    Ahem.
    I would like to address, directly, my post from Saturday, September 4 entitled How Much to Reveal??, and several of the comments that came in response. I suppose that I should be gratified to know that the blog is being read at all, and that what I've written can be felt so strongly in any way. And I'm definitely glad that my friends and acquaintances are so erudite and thorough as to present their arguments, and so forcefully: I feel sorry for the person whose friends care so little as to keep their opinions to themselves.
    That being said, how about taking a moment to cut me a break? I made this point several times in the original post, and again each time I commented about it (both here, in my own comments, and [rather vaguely, but I think that the intended recipient understood it to be] here, on someone else's), but it apparently bears repeating: I only referred to myself in this post. Exclusively. I was not making rules for others. I do not think that anyone else should live their life the way that I have lived mine, write their blog the way that I have written mine, or make their apologies the way that I make mine. I'm not prescribing anything! So if your argument is with the way that I'm doing things for myself, fine: commence arguing. But if you're wanting me to stop telling you what to do, be satisfied that that was never what was intended; we're on the same page, so leave off with the lectures.
    The miscommunication resulted when I committed my typical error, which is to allow my topic to run away with itself and exceed its bounds. The professional discretion issue is separate from the personal blogging issue. My friends' and family's privacy is important to me; their names aren't integral to the stories that I write or the photos that I post (particularly if those last are only from the knees down or circa 1972). Dignity--my own, that of the people about whom I care, and that of people generally--is important to me. Do I undercut my own dignity by writing what I write? If you believe that I do, then I think that you would be better served by choosing to read something else. I do think about what I write before I write it, even if it's not always the most careful or thorough treatment (i.e. too early in the morning to think clearly, or after too strong a drink to care). Is it undignified of me to point out the errors that are persistently and unapologetically committed by others in my profession with whom I personally interact? I do not believe that it's an apt comparison, but the degree of culpability must be lower for me than for them, and if it's not, then someone who's familiar with the situation should feel free to make me aware of it.
    I was asked, "How would you react if you saw a post slagging off your professional abilities? I don't mean how would you feel, I mean, what would you do? What would you do to that person next time library cuts had to be made and you held the decision-making power (to hell with libel laws, this is real life)?" There are two quick answers. First, there's only one person over whom I hold any real professional power, so this isn't an issue about which I can concern myself. That person wouldn't deal with me in this way--she's both more and less direct, so if she wanted to disparage me, she'd either do it directly, in my face, or she'd do it with a smile on her face while telling me that my cookies taste like Oreos (i.e. by a thousand indirect cuts).
    In theory, though, if I saw a post that ripped me professionally and there was some concrete way that I could respond, I'd do it. But before I did it, I would confront the person who'd posted it, to get either the rest of their motivation for posting it or the names of their co-conspirators.
    The bounds of professional conduct, hmm? Do you mean, should I be nice to E. because it would be "professional" of me to do so? Or, shut up about librarian D. because it's unprofessional to make inflammatory comments about it (and the catalogers therein) on my personal, signed-only-with-my-first-name blog? Perhaps I'm riding the edge of that knife, teetering happily between my chosen vocations--writer, librarian, attorney--and gleefully aware that if I choose none, then I don't have to fully ascribe to any rules of professional conduct. I don't hold an M.L.S., so why should I act like a professional librarian? I can wear sandals to work, never staff the reference desk, and bitch in my blog about almost every other librarian with whom I've worked. I hold a JD, but I don't practice, so why should I act like a professional attorney? I can wear sandals to work (does anyone sense a theme here??), arrive at the office whenever the fuck I feel like it, and rip any attorney I've ever met on my blog. And I may or may not have what it takes to be a writer, now or ever, so why should I ... you get where I'm going.
    Let's just say I'm not feeling "bound" by professional conduct.
    This post--if anyone's read this far, which I kind of doubt--wasn't intended to be nearly this inflammatory, but I'm having a hell of a week and it's only been going for 7 hours. If I've offended anyone, the offense wasn't intentional, although the argument was so I suppose the apology doesn't really matter. I just needed to make a general reminder that this is my space, and if you're here, it's because you choose to be.

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