Dear Margaret Atwood. My Name is Andrea Coates. I want your Job. I want to be Canada's Best Known and Most multiFariously Talented Writer. Not imMediately. ImMediately I want to be acknowledged as your Heiress Apparent. You don't have to acknowledge me as Such, not in those Words, not Publicly, not if you don't want to, not if you think that would be Cheesy, but if you could help me, if you could take me Seriously, that would be Much appreciated, Ma'am. The Rest I can do on my Own. Now, I'm going to tell you why I am your Heiress Apparent, and I'm going to frame my Reasoning as an Argument why I am nSfOW, not Suitable for Other Work.
People within [schools], who don’t adjust to that structure, who don’t accept it and internalize it (you can’t really work with it unless you internalize it, and believe it); people who don’t do that are likely to be weeded out along the way, starting from kindergarten, all the way up. - Noam Chomsky
It made Perfect Sense : the Mood Swings, the Social Isolation, the inTellectualism, the antiAuthoritarianism, the Drug Use, the Sx Drive : a Writer was what I was meant to be. I had resisted as a Career Choice what was a Natural Talent ( I wrote my First Novel at Twelve ) on Account of believing, “Writers don’t make Money,” but there it was : I’d had a Vision - Money is no Object to the Visionary. To write was to be my Fate. I passed the Nxt Few Hours, until I could sleep, creating a “Resume” including All the Reasons I thought I should be a Writer.
I decided, in the Days that followed my Vision, that I wanted to be the Best Writer I could be. I thought, how do I make my Self the Best Writer I could Possibly be? Learn from the Best, I thought. I made a Commitment to my Self to read “Every Great Book ever written.” The First Book I chose to read in my Ambition to Greatness of the Literary Sort was Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, and it revealed to me just what Kind of a Writer I was to be : to write of my Life was to bring to Others the inSights of my Suffering and my Joys. In reading On the Road I came to understand that if I wrote a Great enough Book about my Xperiences as a TeenAger, speaking my Truth, I could inspire People. I could change the World, and for the Better.
What is the Way, in this Society, to get a Job where you get to use your Brain? Go to School, of Course. Well, I’ve allready made Clear that Place was not for me. I have a Self Education in Classical Literature and Philosophy. My Vocabulary is Ample and my Critical Capacities are Cougar Claw Sharp. These are Necessary Skills for the Great Writer. To the Cash Register Operator, however, they are Hindrances. Being as Intelligent as I am, I Soom become Bored of rePetitive Activities - these do not allow my to xpress my Creativity and Spontaneity. Boredom creates a Block in my Energy, which is Tremendous, causing it to become pent up. This causes Emotional disTress of a Noticeable Kind - in performing Mundane Repetitive Tasks for Days on end, I Literally am aFraid of going Mad, or of driving those around me Mad.
I have a Life Long Aversion to Crowds. Numerous have been the Panic Attacks triggered by Malls, Festivals, Schools, Busy Streets. I do the Best I can to avoid these Places and Situations, but what is the Service Industry - where Society slots Pretty “ un Educated ” Ladies Such as my Self - if not One onGoing inter Action with the Crowd? The Only Time I am Comfortable in Groups of People is when I am High on Drugs ( and they have to be the Right People and the Right Drugs ) or when I am dancing. On this Account, I have considered Stripping. I don’t think Stripping would work for me. I do not believe I have the Patience to be pestered and hooted at by Sxists without giving them a Piece of my Mind. Stripping, it would not be Long be fore the Anger and the Sadness set in and I had to quit for my Health.
Back in High School, I was aFraid of writing Essays for Scholarships to Universities because I believed to write in the Style fated to win would require a Sort of Artistic Prostitution on my Part. In Deed, I have in my Life, been More aFraid of Artistic than Sxual Prostitution; One is Nearer to my True Soul than the Other : ie : if it came to it, I would sell my Body so that my Writing could be Free. SevenTeen, I knew how to write in Propositions, Arguments, Conclusions, 5 - 6 Paragraphs, a Calm Tone, Proper Spelling, Grammar, Some Diversification of my Vocabulary, but not too Much ( Once a Teacher thought I copied a Txt Book ), to provide a Theme Humanitarian in Persuasion, I could do that, I could get $12,000 from a University by telling them about a Life Lesson learned while volunteering for my Municipal Election, but that wasn’t the Kind of Xperiences I had as a TeenAger. I was a Stoned Slut battling her Inner Demons, battling a Society of oppression and Conformity, and the Complacent Cheeriness Necessary to impress the Universities, Brazen before the inDigenous suffering Genocide, the Skids suffering Drug Abuse, the RedNecks suffering Bigotry, the Hippies suffering the Land, the TeenAgers suffering a Culture of Consumer AlienNation, and the Adults suffering Work and Failed Relationships, All the Abusers, the Addicts, the Liars, the Judgmental I saw pass me on a Daily Basis, Well, I would rather write of them that we might All face up to our dysFunction and over come it then Smile and pretend I wasn’t a Part of it. Maybe the Universities would have enjoyed an Essay on the hypoCrisy of Privilege, but at that Age, with the Xperiences I’d had, I couldn’t imagine it.
Pity the Beautiful. Or, you know, don’t. Beautiful Girls who make Money off it to Day practice Vapidity. To be Beautiful to Every One One you must be Vacant that Others might project their Ideals onto you. So the Popularity of Marilyn Monroe, the Somnambulist. By Popular Cultural Definition, I am an Attractive Lady. My Face is Symmetrical with Large Eyes and Full Lips. My Skin is Clear. My Body is Lean. I have Significant but Perky Tits and a Pretty Good Ass for a White Girl. I am a Talented Dancer. I dress with Flair. What this makes me is un Employable as General Labor, which, More than Any Thing Else, as a Job, I think I could handle ( I have been a Tree Planter and a House Cleaner ). When I moved to Victoria, I made an Attempt at Employment in Gardening. I worked at a Gardening Store and attended a Class at a Horticultural College, which was Much Nicer than Any University I'd been to and fit FifTeen Students. One Day, I would like to live on a Farm, and I will contribute to it’s Maintenance, but Employment in Victoria’s Well-Staffed Gardening Industry would have required an inVestment in a Life Style of Dirt and lifting Heavy Objects and using Tools that is not mine, not now, and Never on its Own. I am an Intellect, Best at communicating inFormation. Words and Concepts are my Tools. I am Less Skilled with Physical Objects. The Physical Tasks I am Best at are Dancing and Sx, Free Form Activities conducted in Periods of High Passion. I tree planted for Two Years. I got a Bad Knee for it. My Body is not built for Xtended Physical Labor ( Cougar's Pounce and Leap and then rest ). Using it that Way would diminish my Other, More Notable Skills. I am a Lady with the Appearance of the Courtesan, and if it weren't for my Scathing intelLigence, my antiCapitalism, my disTaste for Regulation and Hierarchy, I could fit in with those Hot Bartenders at the Club. You can see why Escorting has allways appealed to me, but I have this Habit of falling in Love on One Side and challenging People's Beliefs on the Other - Common Enough Traits among Writers - not so Much among Ladies who make their Livelihoods at “Beauty.” My Lithe Good Looks mean I am Ill-Suited to Labor Career and the inTensity of my Personality makes me a Poor Choice as Human deCoration. I might make an allright Psychic, if I worked at it, which I will. But, either Way, I would make a Fucking Awesome Writer.
Any One who has worked at a Job that is below their Degree of Talent knows how Humiliating it is - how Much Pride it requires the Employee to swallow just to get by Each Day. Now, as Any One who has read my Blog knows, I have one of the Largest Egos on the InterNet. This is why I couldn’t stand the Idea of lying to my Creative Writing Class about my IdEntity - because the Soul that has been granted me by the Universe is a Soul to be proud of, and I will be no One Else but my Self. I am the Mountain Lion - a Fierce Predator - and it is inTollerable to me re press this Majesty for Various Sums of Cash. If I were to go for Employment in Any Position but the One I have chosen for my Self - the Great Writer - I would appear as a Very Big, Very Mean Fish in a Very Small Pond and that would make EveryOne around unComfortable.