I am not my work...

...any more than a potter is one of her pots or a psychologist is one of his patients.

Sadly men and I now assume a goodly number of women attempt to classify each other with the off-hand question, "So, what do you do?"

From personal experience this is a form of the age old Alpha-(fe)male-posturing behavior. Lacking, as I am, the social graces to make pleasant conversational small talk I simply fall back on to the convenience of finding my place by asking the newcomer what he or she does. I can then quickly assess how low I must bow or what subtle level of contempt I may allow myself to have for this person.

Unfortunate!

Unfortunately we have given the convenience such simple social posturing the upper hand in our lives. Now we allow ourselves to "be" what we do. Some even go so far as to obscure our real lives behind the facade of our "doing".

Breaking out of this circumstance is very difficult. I know full well the discomfort that I felt (feel) when an acquaintance that I am on comfortable speaking terms with has repeatedly refused to define himself by what he does.

The Painted Bird is a controversial 1965 novel by Jerzy Kosiński which describes the world as seen by a young boy, "considered a Gypsy or Jewish stray," who wanders about small towns scattered around Central or Eastern Europe (presumably Poland) during World War II.

Kosiński, when asked how he could speak so distantly and unaffectionately about such a intimate and seemingly autobiographical work stated simply, "It no longer belongs to me."