An Open Letter to Everyone Who Thinks I’m Unemployed

Dear Neighbor Pointing and Giving Me Pity Eyes;

I know you think my life is sad, walking my dog at 11AM in the morning, but I’m on a mid-morning work break, and the dog is old and totally needs the walk. I swear, I’m not unemployed. I have two jobs. I’m a librarian and a writer. Sorry, an author.

Three if you count being a mother, which we’re doing now because we’re feminists and raising kids is yo, totally hard work. Just ask that lady from The Hours. Actually, I didn’t watch The Hours, or read the book, but I totally got the gist from that one YouTube clip. Four if you count messing around on the Internet. (What’s that? No one counts that? Okay, then back to three.)

And I know it seems like I’m not working, walking my dog, but I’m thinking about the next plot point in my novel, which, bee-tee-dubs, is going to be great. It’s going to be like Kierkegaard meets Faulkner meets The Hours. Actually, that sounds totally terrible, but you get the idea. It’s going to be great.

Besides, I’m not the one who uses “literally” all the time, like, “literally, I am looking at these kids and laughing!” I know you’re literally looking at the kids and laughing, because I’m standing right next to you, and I can see you. Literally. You don’t need to use the word “literally.” Ever. It’s the word “figuratively” that could be used. Like, “I have the worst headache in the world right now…figuratively, because I haven’t surveyed all the world’s occupants to find out if my headache is the worst, and besides, pain is subjective and complex.” That’s what you mean. We don’t need you to point out the literal. The literal is point-out-able already, because it is literal.

And listen, mister, just because I don’t make that much money doesn’t mean my jobs aren’t important. Think about the children whose minds I nurture, being a librarian and a mother. The children are our future!

Excuse me? Your pity eyes are because I stepped in something? You said, “What’s that doo?”, not, “What’s that you do?” and then you pointed to my shoe, which I thought was some kind of degrading salute you created from reading too many post-apocalyptic novels, but was really just you pointing to the poo on my shoe? 

Oh, okay then. Thanks. I’ll scrape it off before I go inside.

So, The Hours is really good, huh? Literally, I had no idea.

XO,

Shalini