“who made irony the rich one?” you ask yourself.
the dueling pianists draw no swords, and the master fencer no blood.
the earlier you leave for work, the quicker you arrive. no cooperation from clock or stoplights.
your alarm clock works flawlessly on weekends.
you always catch ocean’s eleven at the same scene,
right after the one with a bare-chested brad.
sigh.
this week, wrinkle the irony-ed plot.
shake things up, show predictable who’s boss.
theatricality |θēˈatriˈkalitē|
noun: state of being exaggerated & excessively dramatic
i admit it.
i love glee.
really, what’s not to love?
i – tone deaf as all get out – can sing-a-long with ridiculously good-looking, ill-aged highschoolers with perfect pitch, matching dance moves, and just the right amount of pop-culture sass. i don’t know about you, but that’s always what i’m looking for in a tv show.
this week’s episode, which i finally watched in 2 minute bites with our molasses of a wireless signal, was all about theatricality. i watched. i laughed. i sang along (only while no one else would be harmed by my attempts at gleekdom). i may have even teared up a bit during poker face. the point is. the drama was entertaining, even a bit addictive.
theatricality. exaggerated, excessive drama. it’s all well and good when it includes jocks in red, rubber dresses, and accompanists who appear out of nowhere. it’s a different beast altogether when the drama is internal and the exaggeration exhausting.
this month has been a bit theatrical. it doesn’t take long to make a list as long as my arm of drama – the painful, heart-wrenching kind – going on around me.
physically, so many have lost home, belongings and loved ones in the floods here in nashville. irreplaceable things. rain, exaggerated beyond belief. the waters have at last receded. in their wake, significant emotional damage and a slew of other five-alarm days have added scene after scene to the unending drama. even miles and hours away, friends are adding tears to the river and voices to the songs of hurting.
it’s just so heavy. i keep waiting for the intermission, the eye of the storm. no drama queen can keep it together, holding this high a note for so long.
for my tired friends and family, self and city, i wish hope and peace. an end to the theatrics save glee. some time to heal and see each other sans stage makeup.
sometimes the most dramatic scene is full of excessive, exaggerated, silence. while resting my voice for the next big number, i’m praying this for all.
the evolution of a full day’s drive, when dissected, can seem to mirror an entire life.
you rise early: greet the day with excitement, energy, even a certain zest envied by those already far into their travels.
as you take off, you greet a cast of imaginary characters – from the purple squirrel that jumps trees and telephone poles to scamper alongside your car, to the alligators & gladiators fighting it out in the clouds.
but the games wear off, you grow up a bit, & the little things get to you: speed traps, traffic jams, pit stops, drivers who don’t understand the importance of keeping your cruise control steady.
in these congested valleys, you learn to find joy in the easy conversation, imagining alternate lives for the people passing you by, wondering what life is like in their bubble, and enjoying the safe, contained feeling of speeding along with someone you love.
sometimes you’re the driver: in control and on display. as your legs cramp and your back aches, a kind soul steps in to offer relief, and you ride shotgun for a while, grateful for the support & time of rest.
from this spot you can appreciate the beauty of the drive – the secret ponds and awe-inspiring vistas, viewable for only a moment, but full of so much peace.
soon the moon rises, joining the day for just long enough to hint at what’s to come.
and as the darkness turns your surroundings to black, a mask of light covers your eyes, reflecting the joys of the past.
this week, choose to see that joy before it lives only in the rear-view mirror. embrace the stretch of road you’re driving.
*i promise my goal is to write more often that only mondays (oops!), but oh how i’m lovin’ these mondays – join me in redeeming this most-underappreciated day, will you?*
Dear Abby Leigh 