Xander (Alex) Seymour ’17
So for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Xan, short for Xander Seymour. I am the alter ego of Alex Seymour, class of ’17 and currently abroad. I have been subjected to hearing her peers refer to me as a “dummy,” “puppet” or “doll” for far too long. Well, I am sick and tired of it. From this day forward, I want to be referred to exclusively as a “wooden American” or “Alex’s alter ego.”
“Dummy” may have started out innocently enough, but now I cannot go anywhere without someone referencing “Sanford and Son.” Yelling “you big dummy” at me on the street stopped being clever after the first time.
“Puppet” is pretty awful, too. A puppet is someone who is weak to the point of just doing what others tell them and following social convention. That’s the opposite of what I do. I tell social convention to go where Alex’s hand goes. I don’t just blindly say what Alex wants me to say; in fact, she is always undermining me, apologizing for what I say and telling people I’m a liar. And she is my best friend.
My life consists of sleeping in a suitcase and then sitting on Alex’s dungareed lap with her hand in my backside, stroking my spinal cord. Kids run away from me crying because Alex made the moronic decision to make one of my eyes black and the other white. If a single one of you out there thinks you know what that’s like, screw you because unless you have lived through this experience, you cannot possibly know.
So please don’t make my life any harder by subjecting me to these terms. I may be made of wood, but I am a person just like anybody. After all, we don’t question Trump’s personhood, and he only exists because a human got super drunk and made love to an orangutan thinking he was her husband. Is it not nobler to be carved from a tree by a master craftsman in order to give a strange child who cannot make friends a perfect playmate? Plus, even when Alex isn’t around, we know there is more going on in my head than in Trump’s.
And while I am making my case, I want to be permitted to apply to Smith. I do have the brain of a girl after all.