Life as story.
In my mind I can see the past, vividly and without any sense of reality. I imagine the way life could have been and the way life was. I don’t re-imagine the past purposefully; my mind goes memory-jumping, and I am left as a passive observer of false realities.
I can also see into the future: goodness, happiness, and me working fervently at a computer in an open room with the ethereal sound of rain falling in the city. I walk across the hardwood floor and step outside. Street lights change yellow, red, green and reflect in windshields and puddles on the sidewalk. I breathe deep and go back to my work.
If I were a character in my own story, I would have to ask myself: have I reached the point when a character makes his own choices, free from the writer’s pen and will? Have I taken on a life of my own?
Or am I following a thrid person omnipresent narration that I will and always have been following, regardless of choice or my perception of choice?
Each of us has a story: past, present, future. And our stories are pieced together seemingly random piece by random piece. It feels like so many pieces are missing. It feels like what is happening right now is supposed to and was always going to. It feels like you have a sense or idea of control, but really you have neither.
Will I end up breathing in the rain? Maybe. But the story could always take a turn.
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I like this. Interesting. It is very honest and there are some good ideas here to think about. I call this kind of writing ’self talk’. The second paragraph is a real ’slice of life’ and I can imagine the action. Watch your traffic light sequence though!! (Amber) Working late in the city to explain the darkness.
Nice photo too. Regards
I was actually thinking about the light sequence, and realized I had probably written it wrong. Thanks for your comment.
Really enjoyable read — I love the images you’ve created in my head reflecting on my life too — and I too enjoy the sight of traffic lights reflecting in the rain
Thank you. There is a lot of reflection for me right now. And, while I’m not quite living in such a city as I was thinking of, tonight on the way home from work traffic lights reflected in the cold rain, and it was very cool.
I like the expressive images that you portray here. I sometimes think about the past and seem to have that same experience that you talked about. Future plans, I think, for anyone would be happiness and a good life. It is so true that each of us are apart of a story; our life is a story. I think you are right about this. I love it when it rains; it is so calming. Those reflections of the lights in the rain are quite different and nice.
Wittyliz- The rain is certainly calming. I’m still turning the idea, your life is story, over in my head. When you really think about, it makes for a tricky cerebral experience. But, anyway, thanks for your comment.
The best comedies spring from deep thoughts such as these, and while it may not be the best comedy ever, the new movie Stranger than Fiction turns nicely on the premise that one man truly is a character in someone else’s fiction–a fiction in which he will perish, imminently. If not for the fine performances, see it for how playfully it flirts with tragedy.
That film indeed provoked my thoughts, and thus I wrote this entry. It’s a wonderful film.