The other me
In this place where I work, there are two of me. Not metaphorically, but actually. Correction, the other me is a part-time me. Iris, as we will unsuccessfully disguise her name, is the part-time receptionist. She has the cushy hours of 9-2.
However, she isn't really me. She is much cooler than I am. She wears cooler clothes. She sounds cooler when she talks to people. Sometimes, I feel as though I am back in high school. I try to pretend I am cool in front of someone who is cool. You want to impress the popular girl with your wit so that she will enjoy talking to you. If she talks to you than everyone else will see her talking to you. The old notion that if she thinks you're cool than everyone will think you're cool.
But, I do have one problem with Iris. Everytime I see her on the switchboard she always seems to be having so much fun. She is always laughing and smiling. There is nothing more infuriating than seeing someone having fun doing a job that makes you miserable. I know she hates the job too. But sometimes I wonder. No one can fake having that good a time.
Iris is the master of disguise. She is a ball of turmoil inside but a vertitable joy to the outside world. She seems to be the ultimate actor. Pretending has become second nature to her. Everyday she comes in but she's never here, only her alternate personality. She doesn't want that much out of life but she feels as though she asks for the world. Things don't come easy to her they merely seem like they do. The world doesn't have enough to offer her even though she has got so much to give. A little girl lost in the big cold world.
It's funny. No one thinks that they are cool, even the cool kids. The faux-cool kids think they are cool, but they are just playing a part, and not an entertaining one at that. Someone who truly possesses the ability to be cool knows the same highs and lows as the rest of us, they understand that life isn't perfect. They are just better at handling it.
Iris isn't any different than myself. We both bloom in spring. We both die in the winter. We are different flowers that grow from the same sun. Apparently, she is better at photosynthesis than I am. But, maybe that's why her grass is greener on the other side.
However, she isn't really me. She is much cooler than I am. She wears cooler clothes. She sounds cooler when she talks to people. Sometimes, I feel as though I am back in high school. I try to pretend I am cool in front of someone who is cool. You want to impress the popular girl with your wit so that she will enjoy talking to you. If she talks to you than everyone else will see her talking to you. The old notion that if she thinks you're cool than everyone will think you're cool.
But, I do have one problem with Iris. Everytime I see her on the switchboard she always seems to be having so much fun. She is always laughing and smiling. There is nothing more infuriating than seeing someone having fun doing a job that makes you miserable. I know she hates the job too. But sometimes I wonder. No one can fake having that good a time.
Iris is the master of disguise. She is a ball of turmoil inside but a vertitable joy to the outside world. She seems to be the ultimate actor. Pretending has become second nature to her. Everyday she comes in but she's never here, only her alternate personality. She doesn't want that much out of life but she feels as though she asks for the world. Things don't come easy to her they merely seem like they do. The world doesn't have enough to offer her even though she has got so much to give. A little girl lost in the big cold world.
It's funny. No one thinks that they are cool, even the cool kids. The faux-cool kids think they are cool, but they are just playing a part, and not an entertaining one at that. Someone who truly possesses the ability to be cool knows the same highs and lows as the rest of us, they understand that life isn't perfect. They are just better at handling it.
Iris isn't any different than myself. We both bloom in spring. We both die in the winter. We are different flowers that grow from the same sun. Apparently, she is better at photosynthesis than I am. But, maybe that's why her grass is greener on the other side.
posted by Whit at 8:13 AM
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