So the other day I wrote about how I'm a bit of a lady-who-lunches in feminist clothing, a femifraud, if you will be so indulgent. And now I just realised I am also a Fauxstorian, that is, someone who writes "Historian" on forms (landing cards, etc) when she really makes most of her (minimum) wage in retail. Just because I have a degree in History doesn't make me a Historian -- it's not like just because I wank, I'm automatically a ...
Actually, yes. Yes, I am one. (A fact doubly confirmed by the fact that I write "Historian" when I'm not one.)
Why do we tell ourselves little lies? Does it matter? Is a bit of that Egyptian River what we need in order to survive this crazy world?
Could I be* any more Tryhard Carrie Bradshaw?
*Or indeed, Chandler Bing?
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"To think and to be fully alive are the same." - Hannah Arendt
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About Me
- Doctor Plog
- I am a 35-year-old Australian N.B.F (natural born feminist, never got the vagina = inferior thang) who lives in London with one lovely Englishman and too many remote controls (and phones that look like remote controls). My hobbies include thinking, ruminating, reading, daydreaming, overanalysing and cutting stuff out of newspapers. I can be both stoopidly sentimental and bitterly cynical (not that the two are mutually exclusive). And my absolute bete noir: mindless, myopic stereotyping based on genderraceclasssexuality and other constructed, arbitrary categories. (Imagine if we defined ourselves in terms of eye colour or nipple size?) My favourite food group is carbohydates, my karaoke song of choice is Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" and I used to be able to speak Indonesian.
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3 comments:
Next time you land, or otherwise need to define yourself in 10 letters or less, why not try "blographer"? It sounds totally legit and now you've got the posts to prove it!
I like it! Maybe I'll even customise it and call myself a "plographer" ...
'Yes I am one actually' - er, which? An historian, or, erm...
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