Grey area

I watched Grey's Anatomy last night. Great show. Love that show. It is the only reason I look forward to Sunday nights, and I do now look forward to Sunday nights. Also, watched Desperate Housewives. Another interesting show, if not as much a favorite for us (my husband watches DH too) as it was last year.

But what occurred to me as I watched both of these shows was this: Wouldn't it be nice if we had voice-overs in life like they do on both of these shows? Cool, calm, collected statements at the beginning of each day that would hint if trouble was ahead, and wry summaries at the end of the day to help remind of us of the lesson learned from the day's events, just in case it wasn't particularly clear. You know, stuff like: "It's not the destination but the journey" and "_________ realized that fear, as much as it helped her achieve, kept her from truly experiencing life."

Some of this desire for a voice-over in life, I would suppose, is actually desire to know if I'm heading in the right direction and learning the lessons I'm supposed to be learning (rather than the ones I choose to glean from certain circumstances) along the way. In some ways, it would be a lot easier--and not necessarily as boring as it sounds--if life were scripted.

Being the socially inept type in high school (I'm not sure that now is all the different *grin*), I used to try to script dialogue ahead of time for social situations. It's not as hard as it might sound. I'd just think of something to say to someone and try to predict their response and then mine in return. I'd usually get pretty close because my high school was small and I generally knew enough about the person to guess how they'd respond. This person loves shopping--ask about the new Von Maur store (this was a very big deal when I was in high school). This person loves sports--talk about the Bulls game last night. This was when the Bulls were cool and I'd happen to be in the room, reading a book, when the game was on and would therefore know enough to fake my way through the rest of the conversation the next day.

Plus, in high school, as awful as it sounds, people stayed pretty close to the stereotypes they projected...or wanted to project. You had the cheerleader-types, the jock-types, the cool smart people, the dorky smart people...you get the idea. I fit in none of the categories and so therefore found myself having to find ways to make conversation with all kinds of people.

I still do this now, scripting in my head. When I'm nervous or angry or pretty much any strong emotion. I'm fairly sure that I didn't have a single conversation with my very first boyfriend (summer between freshman and sophomore year in college) that wasn't in some part scripted by me ahead of time--and if that didn't signal doom for that relationship, I don't know what did. *grin* (I met my husband shortly after that and knew he was the one because neither one of us could shut up!)

With writing, bits of dialogue are usually what come to me first. I hear a character long before I ever see him or her. I love that : )

But life, real life, seems less and less scriptable. In high school, it was easier because 11th grade is inevitably followed by 12th--short of dropping out and/or becoming a teenage parent (both of which happened in my school way more often than you'd think--small town in central Illinois, what else is there to do?). Now, it's like the whole world is open with possibilities...which is great, unless you're lost and trying to find your way, or want to make sure that the way you've chosen is the "correct" one. Occasionally, a properly-timed voice over could be very helpful.

This truly in-depth navel gazing session brought to you by...a truly fabulous and funny book by Megan Crane, English As A Second Language. I read it this weekend (click on the link to read an excerpt) and loved it. It totally brought back memories of college, which made me all nostalgic. It's about a woman who hates her job but has no real direction in terms of what she'd rather do instead so she decides to enroll in grad school in England...because an ex-boyfriend said she'd never get in. She's an English major, of course, (is it still a major when you're in grad school?) and I loved how she described the somehow miraculous appearance of a paper when it feels like all you're doing is floudering and flailing on the page. I remember that!

It's a hysterical book. I laughed out loud so many times and I also found more than a little truth in the story, which is what makes a good book in my opinion.

So...anybody want to go to grad school with me? Just kidding...I think.