One of the curious things about getting out of the habit of writing about my life in a public place is that I've found it is easier to write about bad things that happen than it is to write about good things. This is why I can tell you that my cat has died, but I don't know what to say about my job. I've been at the Mysterious Workplace for nine years now and they've promoted me regularly--this is my sixth title and my third department--but I am especially pleased because this is a big promotion that moves me up into management.
I don't think I can share too much about how I wound up with my ridiculously overpowered title, aside from that it involved some bizarre political ju jitsu and now I sound as if I am much more important than I really am. Having said that, no sooner was I granted my overpowered title then people started proposing to move more and more projects under me. I am flattered but also cautious, because I am very attached to my job and I would prefer not to screw it up.
It has occurred to me that perhaps I have not written about my promotion because anything I have to say is vague and boring. Hurray! I have done well at work! I am happy but also experiencing imposter syndrome! I fairly certain that the most incompetent people I have ever met have never experienced a second of imposter syndrome and sometimes I envy the tremendous confidence and sound sleep that must come with an advanced Dunning-Kruger complex!
It turns out that I'm not very good at bragging about myself, even in a place where very few people will see it. Here, I will give it a try:
I am going to be profiled in a documentary. They have interviewed me and taken some footage of me walking around picturesque places in ess eff and they spent most of a day shooting me while I mucked around on tissu. I have made them promise to only use footage of me in which my legs are straight and my toes are pointed. Much like my promotion, I am proud of this, but also a little bit trepidatious. I spent most of the day after our aerial shoot having a weird sort of aerialist esprit d'escalier, thinking of much cooler-looking moves I could have done.
I am going to be in a documentary that Netflix is paying for. I am much more comfortable with this one because I'm just going to be talking about my work. I will still probably spend a lot of time worrying about my hair and whether or not I'm wearing the right shade of lipstick. The last time I did one of these, I got stopped on a the street a couple of times by people who had seen it, which made me feel famous.
I am going to be in Teen Vogue. As we are all aware, Teen Vogue is hella woke, so now they're covering privacy and security issues. I don't know how this is going to work out just yet, and it is likely I will simply be giving background or a quote or two, but having my name in Teen Vogue would be a fine achievement for 2017.
Why yes, I have noticed that how anxious I am about publicity is proportional to how close the event is to printing/debuting/airing and that afterwards, having reached Peak Anxiety, I look back on the thing and generally feel good about it. I could make a chart, but I suspect that this is not a situation in which a chart would be helpful. Now, having listed my achievements and worried about them, I will go hide in a blanket fort and watch Mary Beard documentaries about the Roman Empire.