Writers and film makers do it all the time. They have complete control over the story they want to tell. They only include those chapters or scenes they want to see in their finished product. If something isn’t working or if they dislike the way the story is going, they edit it.
We are our own F. Scott Fitzgeralds and Steven Spielbergs. And the story is our life on the YBR. The problem with this is that we are both the main character in our story as well as the storyteller. And boy do we edit our stories to suit us.
We might not have had any control over the role we were given at birth. We can either blame or thank the ultimate casting director for that, but we do begin to edit our life story at a very young age. And I think we do that because for some reason we are disappointed with the life we actually live. The story and film that goes on in our head takes on a life of its own, and at times the story playing in our head becomes the ‘real’ story.
Ironically, it is the story in our head that often has a longer shelf life than the real life we lived. The past as it really was, eventually fades to black, but the past as it exists in our minds plays on and on forever. Mistakes made and opportunities missed usually fill the biog silver screen in our head. Sometimes it’s the things that didn’t happen that take center stage…like hitting a Little League All Star grand slam, or getting a standing ovation as the lead in a play, or maybe winning some award for some major academic accomplishment. The irony is that more often than not we never made the All Star team, only appeared in the chorus of the school play or never even were up for any award.
I sometimes wonder if the life we lived has less meaning than the life we have etched in our memories. I sometimes think that some of the scenes in ‘our life on the YBR’ hold us back. I also think that some of the fantasy scenes we have added to our life story are a source of happiness.
I find it interesting that people from the same family have different stories going on in their heads. Sometimes when my sister and I talk about our childhood, it’s as if we were from different families.
Our stories are different because there are many things in our childhoods we don’t remember…and there are also some things we’ve forgotten. There is a difference, you know between the two. Things we’ve forgotten are usually those little things that are out of place in our heads like a set of misplaced car keys. Things we don’t remember…well, there’s usually a reason why we don’t remember them and the reason is different for all of us.
My sister doesn’t remember how as kids we’d stand by the front door waiting for our mother to get her car keys so we could go over to our aunt’s because our father had come home a little drunk. She doesn’t remember because she doesn’t want to remember. I remember because I don’t ever want to forget.
Books are great. And so are movies. And while the stories we store away in our heads make us who we are, I prefer living the real life and enjoying every moment for what it is.