You know, in my mind I'm a pretty cool person. I'm funny too. And I'm good at comebacks. And I'm a good writer. But in reality I don't come across that way. I don't know exactly how I come across, but it's not the cool, funny, witty person I hear when people hear nothing. And they usually hear nothing because I think of the witty comment a few hours after the opportunity of saying the comment had passed.
Sometimes I think my life could be a book or a movie.
But I hate drama, and dramatic happenings are the plots to movies and books.
And I'm not very interesting. In fact, the most interesting things in my life have nothing to do with me. I'm connected in some sort of way, you know, like how Yzma is Pacha's third cousin's brother's wife's step-niece's great aunt. Twice removed. But I, myself, am not very interesting.
My book's plot would somehow get turned into someone else's story. Like how Goosebumps made you turn to a certain page to finish out the rest of the story, my book would turn you to a different book. It would be a great money maker, for other people's books. Pretty soon my book would be good at collecting people's shelf dust and would have a never ending cycle of being encircled about by other people's books.
Let's face it, the most interesting subjects in my life are the people I know. The excitement in my book would come when I talked with other people, because their lives are exciting.
Like the seminary class I've taught for the past two weeks. Two of the kids went to prom together. One always has a family story to tell. One is nicknamed Beyonce. One used to have the hair of Will Smith when he was the Fresh Prince.
Or like my cool brother. Anything he is doing is interesting. He's just graduated, is moving to a new city, and has a sister who looks up to every move he makes.
Or like my cool brother's darling little girl. My niece. Anything she does is so captivating. And almost everything she does is so funny. The way she sees the world as her constant playground, the way she walks when she's tired and "tipsy," the way she plays with hair by flipping her hand back and forth, creating more tangles, really.
Or like my beautiful cousin (who wouldn't be closer to me if we were from the same parents). She is surrounded by friends, everyone loves her, and she's constantly doing spontaneous acts of funness.
Or like the lives of close friends. The other night I went through my contacts with the intention of deleting people I no longer remember or ex boyfriends (it's relieving, really) and ended up texting several friends because I simply hadn't heard from them in a while. One just moved and has a darling infant boy. One is getting married in a couple months. One is working on getting her body in shape (which, come one, she's a dancer, she is in shape, she should be working on getting my body in shape) (just kidding) (maybe). And one just bungee jumped off the stratosphere.
So, really, my life is only interesting because of the people I'm surrounded by and the people I keep in contact with. I have no children. I have no husband, heck not even a boyfriend. The only way I could be remembered at this point in my life is because I listened to other people tell their stories.
For now I'll chase the sun and keep in touch with people because I want to. I'd consider that a high honor as something to be remembered by. The book of people I had the pleasure listening to.
