We Aren’t What We Do or What We Did, or Are We?

No one wants to be THAT guy.  You know, the former high school quarterback always talking about his glory days on the field, even though now he’s in middle management, drives his kids’ carpool and has a beer gut.  Or THAT girl who won’t shut up about her college party days and how HAWT she and her sorority sisters were, even though that’s so not cute for a woman pushing 30 who goes on a string of bad first dates  and then home to her cat (although, if she’s discussing her sorority days on said dates, that may be the reason).

I’ve been there.  After leaving an awesome job for a crappy one (long story), when people would ask me what I did, I wouldn’t even take a breath between “So, that’s where I am for now.  ButItotallyusedtohaveasuperawesome-glamourousjobthatwaswaycooler.”  Who cares?  Everytime I heard myself say it, I was turned off. 

It was like I was saying that I wasn’t worthwhile anymore and I knew better.  Finally, I realized that if, in essence, I was embarrassed to tell people what I did, then I needed to do something about it and I did.

I guess my point is that I really dislike the question, “so, what do you do?” particularly the social norm that says that you’re supposed to answer back with your profession.  People aren’t in love with their jobs, that’s why it’s called work and that’s why they have to pay you to show up, so why would they want to talk about it?  I’d rather talk about my nail polish honestly.  If we ever meet on a plane or in a coffee house or in jail, ask me about that.  Or ask me why I’m in jail, that story is obviously going to give you much bigger bang for your buck.

My other point is that there’s no black line that I came upon and stepped over to get here.  This blog is a gray line.  I am totally still the supercoolblogthat-Ihadbefore.  If given the choice, I would have kept blogging at the old digs, but I have an intense desire to write whatever the fuck I feel like, so I’m starting overish.