I think that because this is my own life, I forget how interesting it is sometimes. Or unique. And not just in the way that everybody's life is unique because nobody's life is the same as any one else's. I mean unique in the way that we live in an old church, for example, which is something that very few people do. Sometimes I will explain to a new acquaintance, rather matter-of-factly, who I am and what my husband and I do for a living and how we met and where we live-- because those are the kinds of things you talk about with new people you meet at a party-- and I will get in return these looks of, seriously? that is incredible. And I have to remind myself that the combination of things and circumstances that make us us, in the here and now, are very unique. And all that makes me think that I really should tell my story.
Don't get me wrong. I don't think my life is superior to my neighbor's or that my story is much more interesting-- in fact, like I said to start, my story seems almost uninteresting to me because it is just my life-- I'd much rather be regaled with the stories of other people (maybe that's why I so love eavesdropping on complete strangers at coffee shops?) because the details are often so exotic to me or their characters seem so much more brave than I am, or something. I think the point is that the real life stories of real people are the most interesting because they seem to be even stranger than fiction. Not to mention inspiring because, God, if it could happen for them, it could happen for me. And when it comes to my story, I know that I could have never come up with this script in a million years. Even though it seems so very "of course," sometimes, it is also full of "ah ha" moments and I am constantly sitting on the proverbial edge of my seat wondering what will happen next or how it will end because, truly, you can't make this stuff up.
So, stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment