Eye watching you
I think my mind's eye is a very dangerous, selective thing.
I got an e-mail today from an old friend who updated me on her life and the lives of everyone we knew in drama school. Everyone who had kids; everyone who is happily married; everyone who has wonderful jobs doing wonderful things in wonderful places.
My brain reads these items and processes them as a friend should. It glories in the details and revels in their successes on their behalf. What good things to happen! What wonderful people to have them happen to!
Conversely, my mind's eye takes the plain descriptors and translates them. I see the new babies, the happy couples, the successes, and I make them into all the things commercials are made of. The babies are sweet, smiling nymphs, ne'er pooping nor crying, always laughing or sleeping. The parents coo and look at eachother with knowing, loving faces. The couples kiss movie kisses and lead clean, remarkable lives. They have friends who treat them kindly and jobs that are interesting. They have no financial problems, even though they are actors and writers, because they are working actors and they are published. And they follow their hearts and allow them to sing. And they have no regrets to wallow in.
My mind's eye is fair. It paints all my past friends and aquaintances with a wide brushstroke, all their lives pretty and complete. Sparkling and neat.
This is why I hate getting e-mail.
I got an e-mail today from an old friend who updated me on her life and the lives of everyone we knew in drama school. Everyone who had kids; everyone who is happily married; everyone who has wonderful jobs doing wonderful things in wonderful places.
My brain reads these items and processes them as a friend should. It glories in the details and revels in their successes on their behalf. What good things to happen! What wonderful people to have them happen to!
Conversely, my mind's eye takes the plain descriptors and translates them. I see the new babies, the happy couples, the successes, and I make them into all the things commercials are made of. The babies are sweet, smiling nymphs, ne'er pooping nor crying, always laughing or sleeping. The parents coo and look at eachother with knowing, loving faces. The couples kiss movie kisses and lead clean, remarkable lives. They have friends who treat them kindly and jobs that are interesting. They have no financial problems, even though they are actors and writers, because they are working actors and they are published. And they follow their hearts and allow them to sing. And they have no regrets to wallow in.
My mind's eye is fair. It paints all my past friends and aquaintances with a wide brushstroke, all their lives pretty and complete. Sparkling and neat.
This is why I hate getting e-mail.
posted by @traciAWESOME
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