There is a song I first heard in a Harry Chapin concert that says “all my life’s a circle, sunrise to sundown” and that is so accurate.
I am on life’s merry go round, listening to the manic music as the cylinder turns to the hurdy-gurdy tune. I watch the blur as what I suspect is the “real life” continues beyond the passing swirl as the ride (that I am somehow on) flashes past what I can clearly see (even if I see it in glimpses) is a slower, more sedate, more relaxed pace. As I ride my pony (up in the morning, highs and lows during the day and down at night), I see others who are also on this ride (my fellow inmates) on their fantastical mounts (each at once more beautiful and macabre than the last) bobbing up and down as I am, on the waves of the un-soothing music.
When did I buy my ticket for this ride? Was that when I was born, or did I choose it somewhere along the way?
When did I stand in line to get on this ride – was that my long years of schooling? Was that when I accepted my first paying job? Was it when I married?
How did I end up here?
More importantly, those I can glimpse who are clearly not on this merry go round, are they more content with their experience, as it appears that they are?
And most important of all – if I choose to go the other way (scary thought, that, as this manic ride is all I’ve ever known) – how do I get OFF this ride?
I have garnered the lead female role in a play, the Thirty Nine Steps. Actually, I play three different females in this play, all of whom interact with the male romantic lead. Who just happens to be my husband in real life. I get to kiss him onstage. More than once. In public. With an audience. Woo-hoo.
There are a lot of lines to learn. In a fairly short period of time. This is exciting, and scary, all at the same time. I am having performance anxiety issues, here, and I haven’t even performed yet. Worrying about things that may never happen. I’m pretty good at that, actually…..darn it.
I will choose to re-direct that snotty little voice in my head, and tell it that I will be wonderful, rave reviews, fantastically good time had by all (including me). I will not listen to internal negative thoughts of forgetting lines, or tripping onstage, or having wardrobe issues – I will have a great time in three accents: German, Scottish and plummy British. And I will kiss my husband, leading man, with gusto and fervor. Woo-hoo!
There are interesting places to go potty in the wide world. Some are gross, some are amazing, some are amazingly gross. And some are there-is-no-way-I-can-do-my-business-in-here. Some “not possible” candidates:
Candidate number two (no pun intended): This one is made of one-way mirror – you can see out, but they can’t see in (HA!)
Number three: (glad I am not male)
Number four: ditto
Actually, all I need is a little cleanliness, and a little privacy. I will even bring my own tissue – honest!
I hate “action” films. Too many people get killed. Why would I want to watch that for entertainment? If I am wanting to be entertained, I want something light and amusing – a romantic comedy, or just a comedy, would be fine. Why do I want to watch blood and guts flying all over? I am not totally against somebody dying in the movie, mind you, but violence for the sake of violence is just not on.
For this same reason, I generally dislike teen-age slasher and horror films of that sort. They are almost comedies, though, really, they are so predictable. NO, don’t go outside the house into the fog in your nightgown, little sexy teenaged, blonde girl!! You ain’t gonna make it! NO, don’t check out that noise in the basement! NO, don’t double-check to be sure they are really dead! Don’t answer the phone, either! So predictable. I do understand how the Scary Movie series got going – they make fun of the utterly predictable plot lines of the “real” scary movies. The funniest horror movies I have ever seen were the Exorcist with Linda Blair and the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It is hard to laugh in a movie theater filled with other people who are squealing with fright and freaking out. I had to smother my snickers behind my hands.
Actually, I go to the movie theater for the buttered popcorn – such a sinful indulgence. That stuff must have a million calories, and it is loaded with salt into the bargain. SOOOO good. And their candy is outrageously priced, but at least it does come in the large-sized box. Sorry for getting distracted by movie junk food. I could use a giant-sized box of that buttered popcorn right about NOW.
I think all action films should end with the bad guys getting killed in the most awful way possible, like in the OLD days when the good guys always won. I HATE a movie where the bad guys get away with it. Makes me feel cheated, somehow. I want the bad dudes to get what they deserve, not retire and live out their lives in luxury on some island where there is no extradition. With comedies, that is seldom a problem, or else the bad guys are so lovable, you don’t really mind if they get away with whatever silly crime they committed!