The Author

During my senior year of high school, I wrote a story that was published in a national student anthology. Not very long, the story was about the impersonal communication method of the telephone, and I was very proud of it. At this time, I imagined myself quite the writer, and my work to be quite edgy. After all, I kept a journal. This would be the first of many works that I would publish. I could see that.

The anthology, called "Passages," also included a brief biography of each of the authors, which I thought highly appropriate for such a prestigious work. Of course readers would want to know about the authors of such fine writing; I was sure that the curiosity of the public had been piqued.

I thought it quite ironic that all that was requested of us for this author bio was to answer a few general questions about ourselves and our school. We were authors, for goodness sake! Let our public into our lives...

After answering the basics about my city and school names, I realized my opportunity for soul sharing came with the last question listed, "What would you like to be when you grow up?"

So many answers to that question. Did I want to be famous? Married? A concert trombonist? (I was in the school orchestra at the time.) What could I say that would convey the grittiness, the raw angst of my catholic schoolgirl life?

I told them that I wanted to be a bag lady. I thought that would convey my Dadaist spirit and let people know that I was more interested in the message, not the wrapping paper. I thought it made me sound interesting.

Finally, the day came when the anthology was released. You could not imagine how excited I was to read my own words in a book. And I imagined that everyone who read my words would wonder at the author of such prose.

In the back of the book, alphabetically listed, were the illustrious authors of Passages. Glancing quickly at some of the other student entries, I chuckled to see that others wanted to pursue such mundane professions as teaching, writing and medicine. These kids were so cute! 

Then I saw my entry...lives in Chicago, attends Maria High School, wants to be a big lady when she grown up. 

A big lady? A BIG lady? What the hell does that mean? Big lady doesn't say edgy and dada. Big lady says, well, I don't know what it says. I like McDonalds? It certainly said dork to me. This was certainly not what I expected. But it turns out it was exactly what I meant.

30 years later, the Urban Dictionary defines Big as, " something great, really good, a large occurrence."  That's exactly what I wanted people to think of me, I was just a trend setter when it came to cool expressions.

I was edgy. And interesting. Just like I had hoped. I just didn't know it.