Who Writes for Me?
Yesterday I spent the day milling around the house for most of the morning, checking for updates and emails on the computer, taxing my brain for clever responses, petting furry things and finally in a moment of, I got to get outta here revelation, I went, got in my car and drove to my favorite $1 movie house. It is a place where I go often and I really think if the employees weren’t such a revolving door “don’t need this job” aspect of the place they would be able to recall my name, have my order of Combo #2, layered extra heavy butter and coke as I walked through the door. Most every weekend I go there to see the same movies that costs 8 bucks to see in primetime opening week plus another 10 bucks for popcorn and the good old Coca Cola which is a must have, can’t do without in my movie watching agenda.
Most times I get to see movies that normally didn’t do so well in the high-end theaters and are rated maybe if lucky around a B- or C by the computer gods who post it along with the review and amount of money that has been reached in ticket sales. I almost never count the C rating as a reason not to slide into the musty smelling seat with my tub of fresh popped corn. I just look at it as possibly one of those small ways that the universe prods me along to see something on the big screen that doesn’t take a rocket scientist that isn’t what I am, to understand and for all practical purposes enjoy.
Yesterday it was Stranger than Fiction that caught my attention. It helped that it was the only movie playing at the time the urge hit me so I took the chance and paid the fee. This movie was about a writer except in some miraculous way the story she was writing and narrating in Will Ferral’s head was in fact becoming less than fiction.
Oh my goodness I had stepped right into another one of those “thinking” kind of flicks. I was square in the middle of maybe 2 dozen other mid-age patrons sporting their own tub of corn and the laughter that rose up was astounding. I sat there and realized that we as individuals all lead different lives, we live in different homes, we are surrounded by different people, our beliefs are different from each other, our tastes and dreams are our own, yet we are all writing our own book, our storylines are captured each and everyday by who we meet, what we think, and how we interact with our surroundings.
Do we consciously put ourselves at risk for bad things to happen by just our story lines? Do we decide that we aren’t going to risk that feeling of freedom because the story doesn’t need that chapter? Do we become complacent to write the sentences where we count the steps to the bus stop each day or count the miles on our way to and from work? Do we step out and take chances on dreams or do we just write in the 11:30 pm bedtime without placing a different spin upon the tale?
This movie made me think, it served as a message to me that I can in fact write whatever story I wish to live. I don’t have to keep on the same track just because I think that is the only way to write it, there are no rules of form that I must adhere to. If I want to re-write the beginning and chose the alternate ending I can certainly take artistic license to do so. I am the only one who can write my story putting in my own words so that they inspire or touch or guide someone else in the same direction that this story Stranger than Fiction guided me.
One thing is for certain, all I ask is for your promise that once they buy the rights to my story, put it on the big screen, rate it somewhere around a C- and sell $1 tickets on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Remember that I said to get the Combo #2, layered extra heavy butter, Coca Cola and enjoy the grand finale when all is done.
Know that I sure have.
Most times I get to see movies that normally didn’t do so well in the high-end theaters and are rated maybe if lucky around a B- or C by the computer gods who post it along with the review and amount of money that has been reached in ticket sales. I almost never count the C rating as a reason not to slide into the musty smelling seat with my tub of fresh popped corn. I just look at it as possibly one of those small ways that the universe prods me along to see something on the big screen that doesn’t take a rocket scientist that isn’t what I am, to understand and for all practical purposes enjoy.
Yesterday it was Stranger than Fiction that caught my attention. It helped that it was the only movie playing at the time the urge hit me so I took the chance and paid the fee. This movie was about a writer except in some miraculous way the story she was writing and narrating in Will Ferral’s head was in fact becoming less than fiction.
Oh my goodness I had stepped right into another one of those “thinking” kind of flicks. I was square in the middle of maybe 2 dozen other mid-age patrons sporting their own tub of corn and the laughter that rose up was astounding. I sat there and realized that we as individuals all lead different lives, we live in different homes, we are surrounded by different people, our beliefs are different from each other, our tastes and dreams are our own, yet we are all writing our own book, our storylines are captured each and everyday by who we meet, what we think, and how we interact with our surroundings.
Do we consciously put ourselves at risk for bad things to happen by just our story lines? Do we decide that we aren’t going to risk that feeling of freedom because the story doesn’t need that chapter? Do we become complacent to write the sentences where we count the steps to the bus stop each day or count the miles on our way to and from work? Do we step out and take chances on dreams or do we just write in the 11:30 pm bedtime without placing a different spin upon the tale?
This movie made me think, it served as a message to me that I can in fact write whatever story I wish to live. I don’t have to keep on the same track just because I think that is the only way to write it, there are no rules of form that I must adhere to. If I want to re-write the beginning and chose the alternate ending I can certainly take artistic license to do so. I am the only one who can write my story putting in my own words so that they inspire or touch or guide someone else in the same direction that this story Stranger than Fiction guided me.
One thing is for certain, all I ask is for your promise that once they buy the rights to my story, put it on the big screen, rate it somewhere around a C- and sell $1 tickets on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Remember that I said to get the Combo #2, layered extra heavy butter, Coca Cola and enjoy the grand finale when all is done.
Know that I sure have.