Readymade Post

I couldn't help thinking of the five summers of my life I have spent working construction while reading this chapter. Especially because the boss contractors electrician friend won a Harley in an auction down at his gun club. Yup old Frankie is a badass now, and my image of him was always with a leather jacket and enormous handlebars held high cruising away from kitchen appliances and bedroom outlets he was always hooking up. So my readymade identity for the last five summers has been a construction laborer which served the interest of my employer because he had cheap labor. I saved up enough money to get a car so hooray for me. But whenever the question of what are you going to be arose I kind of sat back and had to ponder what can I say I want to be without the foreman laughing at me? Hmmmm, a poet? Still its hard to pin down a readymade constructed job identity in a expansive field like English so I usually let them fill in the blanks. The foreman proclaimed I would be a sports journalist, my Mother proclaims I will be a magazine writer for some friend of a friend she knows, my Uncle says I will be a screen writer and I just say I want to make crossword puzzles. "By becoming a certain sort of person, by conforming to the pattern of a readymade workplace identity thoughtfully provided by [my] employer, [I] could achieve at least some measure of security. [I] could fit in" (Ramage 46). But I probably am already in some sort of readymade rubric of existence, being guided by the hands of the professional writing program syllabus and university required classes to become a well rounded general educated scholar. I will go with the vagrant student trying to finish his homework and enjoy himself before he has to start paying for everything on his own readymade construct right now.