Everyone is the protagonist of their own story.
Late night. The soundtrack is jazz horn. Alto sax. Reverb. Thoughtful. Blue light from a monitor in a dim room lights her face.
Actually, in my head I’ve got a pretty constant stream of personal soundtrack as I go about my day to day. Most people are bit players, some are the character actors (mostly 1 dimensional fly throughs), and then there are the speaking roles.
Similarly, my working assumption has been that I’m a bit player to all but myself (and maybe my kids).
The revelation is this…this late in the game, on the brink of 41 …that I’m more than a walk-on. That my words mean more than the scant weight I assume all give them other than myself. That someone would notice that I didn’t greet them. (Hell, you noticed I was in the room?) That my words could make someone think deeply for a week, or that my praise would sustain them. That someone would think I was beautiful, or that I was funny, or <insert adjective here>.
That in some way I am distinguished from the crowd…This is a shift in self-perception. I am important to myself. I be. To be important to others, is…is going to be different. I may have to rewrite my story. (I promise I’ll try to use my power only for good).
Comments from the past
Liz – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – This entry needs a picture, I think.And for what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful and funny. 🙂
nain – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – funny, i find myself feeling the opposite more and more.shrinking away, less and less significant. I “used to be” craved, i “used to be” sought out, i was a wanted presence. necessary. a force. now i realize i am just another person to the rest of the world. not less important, but much less specific. I’m getting fuzzy around the edges.
Elouise – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – Maybe it’s an ebb and flow. Who gets to star at any moment. In a specific context- you da woman. To your kids, you are a force. To remember that, without other people providing the context, is hard. You’d have to leave the house, and be some other role- a starring role, rather than the supporting player that wife and mother is — by its nature. But I know you. And you are still a force. As to feeling craved or wanted…I had to leave home to get that too. Nothing against being home, but validation from beyond the inner circle is necessary, otherwise, it’s like looking through distorted myopic lenses.
Elouise – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – Okay- got the picture thing working. What fun.
Francois Lachance – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – Elouise/Weez, character, painter, protagonist. So funny that in a March 31, 2004, comment I noted the double “ii” in “fiigure” and here at the once beginning point (each addition multiplies the beginning points) I find two entries in one day. And two partners in crime… nain and liz 🙂 And ruminations about importance. Could there be another sort of doubling here? A person of importance is one who imports me or someone into a picture. If I recall correctly the engraver and the image maker both had their names attached to a print. Sculptare – to carve. Pingere – to paint. Some bloggers are more painterly and some more engraverly. I need to think more about this analogy. Some bloggers invite us to imagine pictures; others, to tell stories. That is what I found odd in the title to the June 3, 2003, entry! It is not pictures that tell stories but people. The agent has been murdered (that look from the previous entry). One could read a year of blogging as a search not just for self but for the imaginer as story teller. Blogging with eyes closed. Wide open and blind. https://weez.oyzon.com/archives/000864.html, https://weez.oyzon.com/archives/000001.html
weez – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – I take it back. I don’t want to meet you in real life because then the mystery of identity/engraver/sculptor and observations based on the evidence of snippets would come to an end. Better to be open ended and not know that the murderer was actually the butler. BTW, trying to reconstruct you is by no means an easy task.
Francois Lachance – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – The comment about mystery preservation has made me think. Think about stories. An encounter happens and things change.An encounter does not happen and things change.An encounter does not happen and things don’t change.An encounter does happen and things don’t change.
lomy – 2004-05-16 20:41:17 – Francois, Can’t help but utter, huh? everytime I peruse your comments.