Friday, December 11, 2009

Life imitates theater

Twenty-six and a half or so years ago I stood alone on a stage wearing a lovely costume while a spotlight shone upon me. My character, Helen, had finally come to grips with the fact that the subject of her affections would never be hers to have and to hold.  She gracefully accepts her fate and with morose resolve sings :

I have wished before,
I will wish no more.

Love, look away!
Love, look away from me.
Fly, when you pass my door,
Fly and get lost at sea.

Call it a day.
Love, let us say we're through.
No good are you for me,
No good am I for you.

Wanting you so,
I try too much.
After you go,
I cry too much.

Love, look away.
Lonely though I may be,
Leave me and set me free,
Look away, look away, look away... from... me.

There's no psychotic outburst that one might see portrayed today.   Helen, dejected, walks away with only the memory of hope ... her head held high.

Little did I realize when I was cast in that role that my own life would lead a similar path. It's as if Rogers and Hammerstein wrote that part just for me. Chasing the impossible; completely aware that it is nothing more than a wish.  A dream. Faith in hope. Having such a mindset is like sucker punching yourself repeatedly.

The wind is knocked out of the sails that were blindly guiding my heart, but there's another course for it to travel on.  No doubt that I'll be fine. I'm a survivor, at the risk of sounding cliché. It's a misstep that I made. Letting the heart get control over the head is a foolish error. I admit it wholeheartedly, no pun intended.

Why am I so willing to air it in the open like this? I'm a masochist amongst other choice words I like to call myself. This also provides me with an outlet to prevent me from sending off an email where I blather and spew vitriol. This way, I maintain a level (shoddy as it may be) of class and dignity -- yes, I realize this format also reveals that I'm a self-deprecating woman.

I can't hide behind the fantasy anymore.  Sure, I was enjoying romanticizing that I might finally get a stab at love (cue the shrill Psycho theme music).  A chuckle rises from my belly as I type that.

Reality's overture is playing ...

Love Look Away from the musical Flower Drum Song by Rogers and Hammerstein


  1. Oh hon. I'm not sure what happened but I'm so sorry. :(

  2. I have been in a black hole with work. What is going ON???


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