"Do the muses have pets? Are they plagued with glory-hounds and copycats?"
The day was one of soft sun and cool breezes and the hum of traffic on the busy street where I lived lulled me to think of naps and quietly unproductive afternoons. The woman looked up from her computer and sighed. She had just read an article about the necessity of shameless self-promotion in the job market. Just thinking about it -- much less thinking about filling out applications, writing bullshit cover letters, presenting a bright and happy face on it, writing about a love to teach when the hard bit reality of why she wanted a job was because the rent was due -- all these things just made her tired. Sad and tired. Here she was, billing herself as an inspiration to aspiring college students when she all too often found getting out of bed a remarkably uninspired act.
Slowly, slowly, her hands quieted on the keyboard and she drifted off to sleep.
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