It is a strange thing to wake up in the morning and have no way to  identify Self. In western culture we are so prone to make ‘what we do’ the same as ‘who we are’. For years, I was an Actor. I wasn’t a woman or a human, I was an Actor. I wasn’t a friend or lover…just an Actor. Then I was a Teacher. Than a Director. Now? A Student?  With my 36th birthday looming over me like Thor’s hammer, calling myself a student seems slightly desperate. I am a student, but perhaps with a lowercase ‘s’. I certainly don’t feel that I can call myself a Graphic Designer, not yet. And even if I could…that is what I do, not who I am.

Being in a classroom filled with students of varying ages, skills, and experiences has caused me to act rather oddly. I don’t really care whether they know all that I have accomplished in my life…just that they like me. It feels like a great stripping-down of ego, to that base need to be accepted. It is as if I am 6 again and entering Grade 1.

What’s your name? Jen. Nice to meet you Jen, what do you do. Well, I’ve been working hard at tying my shoes and last year in Kindergarten I made a terrific macaroni picture that looked like trees and the sun. Oh, that’s great, I remember making macaroni pictures years ago,  have you tried potato stamps? No, what’s that?  Oh my god, you haven’t tried potato stamps!? they’re fabulous! etc…

When we are young we don’t carry our accomplishments around as our calling cards.  No, we try to be nice and look for the other nice people and we make friends and everything is good.  Now, I find myself in a room where we are all working towards similar goals and it seems silly to compare who’s done what. We are all in the same boat. Luckily, as far as I can see they are all nice people. No one has pulled my hair or called me ‘Freckles’…yet.

A blessing and a curse I am sure.