Trouble with Titles

I have trouble with titles: literally, figuratively, metaphorically.

A job title. A personal title. An email subject title. A blog post title. An essay title. Any kind of title. Any kind of label.

I write, and then I struggle with the title. A title says so much; in some ways it’s crucial. How to categorically (and creatively) label what I’ve written in a way that means something? Brevity has never been my strong suit.

I’ve always hated labels; perhaps this is why I have trouble with titles. I’ve never felt comfortable with the labels placed upon me:

• You are a ___________
• You live in a _________
• You drive a __________
• You eat _____________
• You drink ___________
• You value___________
• You vote ____________
• You make ___________
• You do _____________

While we could fill in the blanks of these mundane sentences—and they would indeed be true—what do they say about me? Nothing of any consequence.

Titles, boxes, labels—they are often how we define ourselves and others. But I don’t like them.

Yet still, I will fill in the blanks...

• I am: a woman who thinks of herself as a girl. Or a girl who thinks of herself as a woman.
• I live: in a lovely place in a lovely city.
• I drive: a car, a bike, my feet, and my life.
• I eat: anything that tastes delicious.
• I drink: water, wine, beer, coffee, and booze.
• I value: everything and nothing.
• I vote: when I feel like it and when I am informed enough to do so.
• I make: cookies, cakes, strings of words, photographs—and occasionally—others smile.
• I do: everything and nothing.

But don't put too much stock in any of these things, because I have trouble with titles.