Dedicated to the Proposition
Jul. 3rd, 2003 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueAn odd side effect of being in Japan is that everyone assumes I'm famous. It could have to do with that well-hidden arrogance in my carriage which somehow demands deference, or it may simply stem from the natural distinction of very blond hair. Whatever this aura of celebrity, it is confirmed when people learn I am a writer. I like to flatter myself that I'm up-and-coming, projecting an aura of potential energy -- but really, I think it's a mistranslation from "writer" to "internationally best-selling novelist."
Something I've noticed about myself is that I'm bad at having a job. I don't mean that I'm incompetent, or that I can't hold on to one -- simply that I feel bad about myself when I am employed, even if it's something I'd agree to do unpaid. Most people, like Valancy or Patrick, are depressed when they are unemployed, investing much of their self-worth in the workday. I get depressed when I interview, and the blow to my esteem is even greater if I'm actually hired.
I suppose I might be lazy, but I typically get more done than other people, at least in my own estimation. I find a line of poetry or a new approach to sociology more lasting an accomplishment than fourty hours behind a ledger.
Often, I feel guilty about this.
Val says I'm a throwback to the days of "gentlemen," and it is true that I feel I should live on an annuity from various investments and properties. It's not that I want to be rich, or anything -- I'd find it far too intimidating. It's just that secretly, in my heart of hearts, I believe in the truth of the words "wage slave." I seize up at the sight of a pay stub as though it's a bar on my window, and the thought of needing to schedule around vacation days is enough to give me heart palpatations. It's not the same when you're an artisan, when you finish the work on your own time and trade on its intrinsic value, nor is hourly pay an offering for your inherent worth and unique talents; you're just a body, filling a space, with a desirable set of learned skills. This is why I'm so deeply insulted when asked "what is your job?" over "what do you do?"
Despite their conspiracy to raise me as a man of the Enlightenment, my parents must be horribly disappointed. These days, at least in America, you are your job -- to be without a label is to be without a self. In a sense, it is a replacement of the class system, a way to categorize others without encroaching upon the illusion of equality. It's a veneer over "older" or "richer" -- but a veneer only; try telling people you're a fifty-year-old fry cook and see what happens. The truth is that equality's confusing; it's why people fear communism. If you don't know relative rank, how can you guess who refills the water, who chooses the game, who takes the last slice of cake? Rock, paper, scissors?
Me without a job complicates things. People need categories, and the last vestiges of "gentleman" died with the Civil War. "Philsopher" crahsed even sooner, unless it was paired with "professor" or some other job. Instead, I am relegated to "housewife" -- an inferior position instead of a lofty one. It's not, of course, Patrick's fault -- before that, it was "student." Here, half a world away from Patrick and context, they say I'm a writer, but only because I seem famous, a job-independent status. It seems the only way out is to truly be famous -- "celebrity" overriding "wife."
Maybe then people will ask me what I'm thinking instead of when I'll have kids.
Something I've noticed about myself is that I'm bad at having a job. I don't mean that I'm incompetent, or that I can't hold on to one -- simply that I feel bad about myself when I am employed, even if it's something I'd agree to do unpaid. Most people, like Valancy or Patrick, are depressed when they are unemployed, investing much of their self-worth in the workday. I get depressed when I interview, and the blow to my esteem is even greater if I'm actually hired.
I suppose I might be lazy, but I typically get more done than other people, at least in my own estimation. I find a line of poetry or a new approach to sociology more lasting an accomplishment than fourty hours behind a ledger.
Often, I feel guilty about this.
Val says I'm a throwback to the days of "gentlemen," and it is true that I feel I should live on an annuity from various investments and properties. It's not that I want to be rich, or anything -- I'd find it far too intimidating. It's just that secretly, in my heart of hearts, I believe in the truth of the words "wage slave." I seize up at the sight of a pay stub as though it's a bar on my window, and the thought of needing to schedule around vacation days is enough to give me heart palpatations. It's not the same when you're an artisan, when you finish the work on your own time and trade on its intrinsic value, nor is hourly pay an offering for your inherent worth and unique talents; you're just a body, filling a space, with a desirable set of learned skills. This is why I'm so deeply insulted when asked "what is your job?" over "what do you do?"
Despite their conspiracy to raise me as a man of the Enlightenment, my parents must be horribly disappointed. These days, at least in America, you are your job -- to be without a label is to be without a self. In a sense, it is a replacement of the class system, a way to categorize others without encroaching upon the illusion of equality. It's a veneer over "older" or "richer" -- but a veneer only; try telling people you're a fifty-year-old fry cook and see what happens. The truth is that equality's confusing; it's why people fear communism. If you don't know relative rank, how can you guess who refills the water, who chooses the game, who takes the last slice of cake? Rock, paper, scissors?
Me without a job complicates things. People need categories, and the last vestiges of "gentleman" died with the Civil War. "Philsopher" crahsed even sooner, unless it was paired with "professor" or some other job. Instead, I am relegated to "housewife" -- an inferior position instead of a lofty one. It's not, of course, Patrick's fault -- before that, it was "student." Here, half a world away from Patrick and context, they say I'm a writer, but only because I seem famous, a job-independent status. It seems the only way out is to truly be famous -- "celebrity" overriding "wife."
Maybe then people will ask me what I'm thinking instead of when I'll have kids.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-03 12:54 pm (UTC)A declaration that would be much more effective if I was not currently unemployed.
-C