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11.30.200520/7
There's a familiar pause before answering the question "What do you do?" - it's about the shape and size of the amount of time it takes to gather my thoughts when not I don't plan on responding entirely truthfully. It's not that I'm going to lie - "Games Designer" is how I'm introduced at parties and meetings, so that has to count for something - so much as I don't quite believe it myself. This job, this life, and all that goes along with both of them manage to be both wanted and completely unnatural feeling at the same time. It's a sort of fracture running along my personality, breaking the surface in the way I talk (stumbling over using "us" and "we" in place of "you" or "they" in meetings) and the way I walk (almost constantly self-aware, afraid that messing up will show me out as the fake and impostor with no right to be doing what I'm doing that I'm still a bit convinced I am). I think the trouble has less to do with my job now and much, much more to do with the years and years of shitty, worthless, dead end go no where work that put me here. Maybe that's the real terror here: for once, for maybe the first time, I'm genuinely enjoying what I do.
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