Friday, June 8, 2012

Personal Movie Actor-Outer

I find lately, seeing as I have a quite a bit of "me" time on my hands, that I imagine little moments out of my day as scenes from movies.  Or scenes from a movie.  The movie in my head. (This is confiding a lot since I am risking coming across like an insane person.  And/or completely narcissistic.)  I feel somewhat confident that I am not alone in doing this.  But I do believe it's one of those unspoken tidbits in our culture.  The personal movie acting-outer. 

I get nervous sometimes when I'm home alone and someone comes to the door.  And a snippet from my "action" movie begins.  SPEED...aaaand ACTION!  I may lean against the kitchen wall and sneak a peek down the hallway to have a look out the window to see who is at the door.  Or I will get on my hands and knees (yes, I have done this) and crawl through the living room, onto the couch and peer through the blinds.  My heart pounds.  I barely breathe.  And then the Little Leaguer selling chocolate bars walks back down my driveway.  AND SCENE!

Just a few days ago, I applied make-up to my face.  Brown eyeliner, some blush and some earthy colored lipstick.  Then I went about my day, which consisted of putting away laundry, making beds, cleaning the kitchen, looking for a job, etc.  A few times I'd catch a glimpse of myself in a bedroom mirror.  And I felt ridiculous all painted up.  I'm not really sure why.  I'm not against make-up.  I'm sure I need it to enhance my look.  Aaaaaand ACTION!  Like a Geisha looking in the mirror attempting to see her true identity, an identity that had been stolen from her when she was a child, I slowly began to wipe the make up off my face.  First smearing it, but then wiping my face clean, revealing my natural beauty (reminder: this is a movie.  And I already mentioned the potential for narcissism.)  Satisfied, I took a simple bobby pin and pulled a strand of hair off my face.  I stood about an inch from the mirror inspecting my clean face for a few seconds, then went back to my chores.  AND SCENE!  I was particularly brilliant in this one.

Just yesterday, I became a character typically played by Laura Linney.  The likable, scattered, about-to-crack mother, driving the two boys home from daycare.  I'd given them both peaches in their car seats to eat on the drive home.  In the rear view mirror I could see the juice of the fruit running down  their faces, fingers and down to their elbows.  Both boys were getting sticky and a little uncomfortable, thus whiny.  I kept an upbeat tone telling them "it's just fruit from the peaches.  we'll get you cleaned up as soon as we get home.  it's not a problem to get a little messy."  But in my movie close-up, my subtle expression was revealing "what made you think peaches in the car with no napkins made sense?  now you'll have a mess to deal with. why don't you have more foresight?" I gazed out at the open road ahead. And then, we pulled into the driveway.  AND SCE..... um...I said AND SCEN.....why hadn't the action stopped?   I totally nailed that one!  The boys were waiting for me to take the peach pits and half eaten bits of fruit from them.  Which I did.  Then I unbuckled them from their carseats with my own sticky hands.  Wiped them both down with a previously-used napkin from the car floor.  In my head, I was yelling AND SCENE!  AND SCENE!  AND SCENE!  Then I realized the credits were running.  The boys and I decided to have a rambuncious running contest to the mailbox.  And FADE.


  1. Ha!!!! I love this one. I am so with you but where are the people to put everything right after you call scene? More importantly, where's craft services?


  2. Amy, this was pretty much what was going on during your I understand! I was just an extra in the scene holding the flashlight! Break another leg!
    Love you, Mom