I had a friend once — a queer ska librarian by trade — who told me he thought I might be more of an archivist than a librarian. Having finally gotten to the part of my archival management class where we actually toured the university archives, I decided that he was quite correct. I’d suspected it all along, but as I moved deeper and deeper into that freezing cold, cave-like room full of meticulously-maintained boxes of paper and other random stuff, I just got all giddy and excited. I was afraid my classmates were going to notice my stiffy. It was almost embarrassing.