So press pause and enjoy...
In the Movie of My Life I Sometimes Imagine
In the opening credits, I am riding the subway.
It’s a montage of all of my morning commutes.
My clothing and the books I’m reading change,
but everything else stays pretty much the same.
My weary character is messy but determined.
The montage itself is supposed to reflect life’s
monotony, but there’s pockets of humor too:
the mornings I’m so tired I don’t realize I am
holding my book upside down; the times
I’ve accidentally worn my sweater inside out
and backwards, the small pale tag hanging
like a flag of surrender at my throat; how
I like to make eye contact with dogs in bags,
their wet noses pressed against the mesh. Still,
it’s clear the movie is not a thin comedy. There
is a real person here. I’m a real person here.
I tend to fantasize about this movie the most
while I’m on the subway. Pretend I am being
filmed, angle my face to just left of where
I imagine the camera should be. I pause
to let viewers see me, really see me. My brain’s
director tells me my motivation. I am to think:
determined. Sometimes, deserving. I tend to think:
struggling. Sometimes, useless. But I push
through it. And then, at the perfect moment.
I swing my head right, look past the camera
into what I assume is my triumphant future.
I imagine this is where the film jump-cuts
to black, where the opening credits end and
the real meat of the movie begins. Only, I have
no idea what is supposed to happen next.
I haven’t gotten that far. So instead, I go back
to the opening, me in the subway again. Still.
Sometimes I imagine the music playing over
the opening credits. Is it happy? Is it sad?
Does it make any difference at all?
If you were to make a movie of your life--or of your daily routine--what would it be like? Would it be happy or sad? Definitely something to think about...