When Mike and I are enmeshed in the frantic days of tax season and, additionally, I’m struggling with a cold/flu – you, dear reader, are doomed to put up with whatever blatherings come into mind. Such as this.
I want to be a character in a TV series or movie. Not an actor; that’s quite a different thing. I want to be the character. That fictional woman never has a bad hair day. She’s never bloated. I’m certain that there are never any unseen safety pins holding her hem together.
She can face supreme drama, crisis and tragedy without her mascara smearing or her nose running. Except, of course, in that favorite scene from Gone With The Wind when Rhett visits Scarlett after the funeral of her second husband, and he says as he offers her the handkerchief from his pocket, “My dear, I have never known you at any crisis in your life to have a handkerchief.” Scarlett’s nose runs.
And then, there’s background music. As real people rather than characters, we miss a lot in life by not receiving cues from the background music. The anthem swells and we know something important is happening. When we walk onto a dark, deserted parking lot, we’d know to run back inside if we heard the creepy music that always foreshadows the arrival of the invincible bad guy. When you walk into a gathering and lock eyes with the intriguing stranger across the room, the background music would let you know if this will be true love or evil incarnate.
The remote controls might be the best part. We could rewind to repeatedly enjoy special moments and fast-forward through the tough times. Ahh, but the pause button would be the best. Just before you reach for that tower of chocolate fudge and ice cream. Just before you accept that date with the guy you should probably avoid. Pause.
You get the picture.
I want to be a character in a TV series or movie. Not an actor; that’s quite a different thing. I want to be the character. That fictional woman never has a bad hair day. She’s never bloated. I’m certain that there are never any unseen safety pins holding her hem together.
She can face supreme drama, crisis and tragedy without her mascara smearing or her nose running. Except, of course, in that favorite scene from Gone With The Wind when Rhett visits Scarlett after the funeral of her second husband, and he says as he offers her the handkerchief from his pocket, “My dear, I have never known you at any crisis in your life to have a handkerchief.” Scarlett’s nose runs.
And then, there’s background music. As real people rather than characters, we miss a lot in life by not receiving cues from the background music. The anthem swells and we know something important is happening. When we walk onto a dark, deserted parking lot, we’d know to run back inside if we heard the creepy music that always foreshadows the arrival of the invincible bad guy. When you walk into a gathering and lock eyes with the intriguing stranger across the room, the background music would let you know if this will be true love or evil incarnate.
The remote controls might be the best part. We could rewind to repeatedly enjoy special moments and fast-forward through the tough times. Ahh, but the pause button would be the best. Just before you reach for that tower of chocolate fudge and ice cream. Just before you accept that date with the guy you should probably avoid. Pause.
You get the picture.
2 comments:
Has anyone ever told you that you are (still) a twin to Danny Thomas' daughter. I can't remember her first name because I am old.
My brother used to say that. Guess I'm the Thomas twin they left in the punkin patch. Marlo is her name. She's still very involved with Memphis' St. Jude Hospital.
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