188. To Be Always More

She is standing alone when a man approaches and says hello. He looks altogether harmless, so she returns the greeting. They’re at a social event and meeting new people is what you’re supposed to do.

He tells her that he likes her earrings. She smiles and thanks him. He asks her if she’s enjoying the event, and she says that she is. She doesn’t ask any questions in return. She’s terrible at thinking of questions. The burden thus falls to him.

He asks her what she does. This causes her demeanour to change. Her eyes narrow and she stares at him for a moment. Then she answers: I’m no one.

She thinks this is the best answer she can provide. It’s certainly better than trying to talk about what she actually does, for these are the kinds of things that would not satisfy this question. To her, it seems to demand an answer in the form of a profession or career that can be easily understood, judged, and ranked.

She used to tell people that she’s an artist, but then she would inevitably be dragged into talking about the kind of art she makes, how long she has been making it, and so on, all with the underlying implication that she should not be doing any of this, which would eventually culminate in a question about whether or not she makes any money.

None of that, in her opinion, is worth talking about. Is anyone really going to learn anything substantive about another person by asking them how they scrape together the means necessary to survive in this miserable world?

The question also seems to also carry the implication that she is about to be reduced to a label, and there is nothing she likes less than to be reduced. She wants to expand, to be always growing. She wants to be unpredictable, to be always more than anyone can define. Being no one seems to supply the emptiness that fits her needs.

She looks at the man still standing before her. He seems entirely stunned by her response, and unable to continue. Oh well, she thinks, there are plenty of others here for him to talk to.