Yup, here’s me. Grown ass woman in pigtails and a Marvel tee, getting ready to get messy. Here’s also where and when I come up with these random little blogs. Out here, it’s just me, some ’80’s music and the work.
Let’s get right to it. I have an awkward confession to make. I don’t even know why on earth I’d want you to know how utterly weird I am, but here I am… about to fess up. Are you ready?
I pretend my life is an ever running television show. A dramedy, to be specific. It’s true, I do. Okay, I know- it’s not, like, I-was-once-a-man kind of confession. But, it’s kinda odd, right? Not to worry, I’m super subtle about it. You’d never notice when I turn to the “camera”, and give “the look” :
But, in my head, when someone says something utterly stupid, that’s what I do. I also do overly exaggerated punch line deliveries and pause for dramatic affect, both of which are less subtle than my “breaking the fourth wall” . I hear the mood appropriate music when I enter a scene… I mean a room. I, of course, have my own theme song(s) (because it changes every new season), which plays at the start of the day, then just the instrumental when I go to sleep. Even though I’m actually too young to remember watching the Mary Tyler Moore Show , I imagine that same kind of Get-up-and-go-get-em vibe as hers.
Just less gritty ’70’s and more bubbly ’80’s… like WHAM! You remember the, right?
I’m really scaring you now, aren’t I? Listen, it’s ok. Really. In fact, it’s fun. If it were like the Jim Carrey movie The Truman Show, that would be sad. He didn’t know his life was being filmed for a live audience. And, yes, I do know that mine is not actually being filmed. I’m just pretending. Everything is fine. Geesh.
Now, if this were a real conversation with someone, I’d have done the big Disney kid eye roll…
So, having shared all of that, I’d like to take a moment to assign blame for my … quirk. Let’s start with my mother. She, too, though not by admission, behaves as if she’s on a sitcom. Well, as if she is the regular reruns of parts of sitcoms. She recites lines from shows whenever she believes it suitable. Her long time favorite? This one:
Yah. She also breaks out into song any and every time someone inadvertently says something that’s in a song. Lastly, she has lead us to believe we (my brother and I) are natural born talents. Our childhood skits and renditions of songs from Grease were, to her, Academy Award worthy. So, there begins the over inflated ego.
Next, I’d like to blame The Brady Bunch. I don’t care what you think, those kids had chutzpah! Marcia (Marcia, Marcia)… I mean, seriously, she had the poise and control of a 40 year old. I wanted to act like her… which meant I acted like a 40 yr old at age 7. (It actually ended in 1974, when I was 3 years old, but I watched it in syndication.)
Lastly, I’d like to continue the Blame Train with pretty much all of children’s programming, with one exception being Sesame Street. The puppets may be fake, but those kids are fo’ real. But otherwise, every child actors roll was/is an over blown caricature of what adults imagine children to be “like”. They weren’t/aren’t actually acting as children, they’re acting as miniature adults. Now that’s weird.
So, truth? I thoroughly enjoy my strange obsession. It entertains me endlessly. It’s afforded me the ability to emotionally step away from bad times and gain perspective… or at least take a mental break. It literally makes me laugh out loud ( that’s right, not LOL, laugh the hell out loud). It’s fun, and I very highly recommend it. Just don’t go telling everyone like I just have.
Well, thanks for reading my confession. I look forward to the concerned and nervous questions from my loved ones, asking if I may be on the verge of a psychological break and if “Do I need to speak with someone about this?” To which, I’ll of course answer with a resounding “No”… because I have you.