PROFESSIONAL DEPRECATION STATION

Freudian Eggplant

Siggy and I would have been besties

I commented on a well-known writer’s story with an emoji. I’m not a name whore, so I’m not going to say their name. I use ‘name whore’ in the vein of an overtly guilty ex-Catholic who’s overcompensating for disappointing his Celtic ancestors and singlehandedly ruining his kids’ future.

It’s like telling the ticket taker ‘you too’ when they tell you to have a good time at your grandmother’s funeral.

What did Freud say about emojis?

Sometimes an eggplant is just an eggplant.

I should have at least written a half-assed, tongue-in-cheek commentary on how their foibles and hyperbole really nailed the frail zeitgeist to the wall for all to point and laugh at like parents at my kindergarten fridgeart.

Woe is me for not taking advantage of all the writing tips abundantly available to me on this platform alone. The authors who wrote about how to reach a thousand subscribers in 10 minutes never touched on how to properly fluff a professional writer in the comments.

But, I’ll be professional about it. I’ll only think about it every time I log on to the platform and let it eat away at my confidence when I see their articles lingering in my feed like me at my at the bookstore. I will lie awake at night wringing my brain dry thinking about how they are sitting at their golden desk laughing at my witty online profile, but not because it’s funny.

I will channel my angst and woe and apply them to write a definitive analysis of not only society but of the mistakes and redemptions of whole generations.

It will all distill out of me like so much alcohol strong enough to make Freud say, “Heilige Scheiße! Das ist beschissen.”

I don’t even like eggplant.

I think I need to see my therapist.

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