This article combines a Writing 101 prompt, to produce a character study, and a Weekly Writing Challenge, to describe a clash of one you with another you. The narrators of below are random people who know me, and the voice in the parentheses is me talking back to them (like I do).
A Colleague on My Professional Me
She’s a weird fish, this one (I’m not Pisces but Cancer actually). She’s always so annoyingly prim and proper, all her clothes matching, each hair in its place (that’s the idea). She could be used as a model academic for posters (awe…), if she were a bit prettier (grr…).
She’s too serious (that would be the depression), looks neurotic (anxiety, to be precise) and never smiles, unless with her mouth shut (that’s because my teeth are uneven). She might be a success, unless she’s a failure and covers it well (I’m undecided myself).
A Neighbour on My Casual Me
She’s a weird fish, this one (I’m still under Cancer). She never goes outdoors unless to pet her cats, like a crazy cat lady (that’s a hit). She’s always wearing awful baggy trousers and a formless hoodie in all weathers (that’s my cat-petting gear put over my normal clothes).
There’s clearly something wrong with her (well, yes, probably). She can be seen crawling on the ground (I socialise with my cats) or lying flat in the grass (I take macro photos). From her creased cap to her disintegrating boots, she looks filthy (as could be expected from tactical gear).
Me on the Clash of Mes
The other day I set out from the village to the city dressed up a like a youthful fashionista. The outfit comprised short shorts (chastised by colour tights), a flimsy top (covered by a leather jacket), heels and accessories. I thought I’d meet no one from work, because I didn’t go anywhere near the place.
Right after getting out of the train, a handsome colleague of mine called hello at me. (He clearly didn’t expect he’d meet anyone either, because he hadn’t shaved in days.) Later, I met the head of the department (she was amused). Before I left, I met my favourite professor (he was bemused).
I stumbled on a student of mine on the train back, but I think he didn’t see me. (If he did, he won’t take me seriously anymore.) Back in the house, the neighbours were visiting. It was the first time the neighbour saw me this close in other than my cat lady gear. She was befuddled.
Right now I’m my transitional me. I’m wearing my good yoga trousers (the less good ones are in the laundry) and an acceptable shirt. I’m accessorised by a coffee mug, a soda stream bottle and a laptop (all colour-coordinated with my shirt). I look like all I have are #FirstWorldProblems.