Being an executive assistant is very strange. I feel stripped of myself somehow. I am no longer me. Instead, I'm the assistant. I'm the help. Glorified secretary. I'm the fucking wallpaper.
Don't get me wrong. I've been the wallpaper before. But that was all well and good, because I still had a good sense of who I was beneath the facade (speed reader, pen horder, fiction writer, olive fiend, daydreamer). Now I don't know anything. I write only sporadically, I don't recognize myself in the mirror, and I'm wearing an engagement ring. My hair feels all wrong. I feel wrong.
Leaving the MFA lifestyle has been very traumatic indeed. It was nice to have people take my art seriously. Now people assume that I'm just a cardboard cut-out, good for answering phones and ordering lunch. They yell at me for spelling words correctly -- because I couldn't possibly know how to spell now, could I?
posted by Empress Girl @ 1:17 AM
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