Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Life story
In one of those not-quite-awake moments, who hasn’t thought, “Why don’t I write an autobiography?”
My life in a nutshell
After looking at a blank page for a few minutes, I wrote exactly 19 words:
I was born, inhabited Earth longer than most, and I will surely die of boredom writing about my life.
Really…who wants to know that I was born butt first; 5 pounds of trouble who never stopped being a pain in the @$$?
Who cares that I was married 5 times? It only means that “What about Bob” was wrong: Having Tourette Syndrome is not worse than death.
Who, in their right mind, wants to know that during my mid-life crisis I had a husband and two boyfriends? Or that Hubby thought it was a great idea to have that many guys in my life so I wouldn’t want so much…Hmmm…from him.
That’s more ho-hmmm than anyone should be subjected to.
Who cares that I’ve been with #5 for 24 years? Most would say, “She must be a slow learner.”
And they would be right. I’m still learning.
But that doesn’t make for an interesting story.
If you’re rich and famous, everyone wants to read about your 20 failed diet plans.
If you’re not — and you didn’t survive a 20-story fall with no broken bones after being abducted by aliens who gave you superpowers — no one wants to hear it.
As an example, this is in the news: “Astronauts successfully grew radishes on board the International Space Station for the first time in NASA history.”
Yes — people would rather hear about that than the time I was drunk in Reno, Nevada and almost had sex with an Eagle’s band member, but my best friend told him I was married.
Here’s something else I found interesting:
Ah, the things that plague us.
I think your autobiography would be a bestseller.
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Thanks. 🙂
Most of us don’t write down the snippets of our daily lives in a journal, but my mother did.
When my mother passed away, she left volumes of her journal. Most of it looked like this: 8:00am ate oatmeal. 12:00 ate a ham sandwich…
It took hours to go through the journals and out of all the entries, there were only a few worth reading. After that, I stopped keeping a journal. 🙂
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Journaling is quite time consuming and has to be a labor of love. Otherwise there wouldn’t be any thing worth saving.
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Mom was always the literal type. She didn’t delve into her emotions or write her emotions. If I wrote “OMG! I nearly broke my back when I fell off the steps. It was like everything went into slow motion as I plummeted downward.” Mom would have written, “I fell today.” 😊
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Pragmatic style
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Unfortunately, it tells us nothing. She could have fallen in the toilet for all we knew. We didn’t know that she had a heart condition that would cause her to pass out — not until she fell on the concrete floor and received a head injury from it. I was 17 when I found out about it.
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That is unfortunate. It is tough to find fact that have impacted the lives of our loved ones, after their departure
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Very true.
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🙂
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That’s a best way to share about yourself 😊. 5 pounds of trouble, married 5 times, tourette syndrome. You have been special, and that’s why people say you were a pain in the ass, people who actually live the life is mostly the pain in the ass. Don’t be so hard on yourself, you are a living legend, and you’ll be remembered by your loved ones. A drop of tear from a loved ones for us, is the only thing we could carry after life. I loved this post,😍 maybe I can take this idea to change my auto biography.
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Thanks for the kind words. 😊
I believe you’re correct — people who have lived interesting lives are generally pains in the butt. Either that, or you never know the extent of their adventures until someone who knew them tells you after the person dies.
All I remember of a woman who lived on my street when I was a child was her perfect yard and her constantly yelling, “Get off my lawn!” Yep — that is what people yell at kids in the USA. She eventually put a fence around her yard. When she died, it was discovered she had no known family. Her next door neighbor cleaned the contents of house for her so that it could be sold, and found several journals. She read them in the hope of finding a relative. The woman was a nurse in WWII stationed in the middle east war zone. Some of her adventures were described as, “Hair raising.” Unfortunately, she never told others of her adventures. I never knew what happened to those journals, and wished I had been able to present them to the world so her stories wouldn’t die with her.
As you said, and it is an important concept to remember, being loved and having people in our lives who will carry us with them in their hearts makes us living legends.
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Exactly my point. It was exciting to know about the WWII nurse, likewise we yet to know lot of untold tales , if we all get know each other’s story nobody will complain that their life is the worst. In the end, happy that we both stand in same point 😊🤗
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I saw a meme about because Newton was bored and invented calculus he has been a plague on college students ever since. Or something like that. I can’t find the meme.
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The meme made me laugh, so I threw it in. 🙂
Whether it’s true or not, I went for the humor.
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Well I was intrigued, I hope you ditched your friend who ‘saved’ you from one of the Eagles in Reno! Did she sleep with him. Goodness you make my life look so pedestrian! 💜
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No. All of us talked for a couple of hours and we listened to him play guitar in a practice studio. Then we went to a club where I got drunk(er).
The irony of it is that I have a stomach that will revolt against me if I try to drink now (gastroparesis).
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Oh, I’d read your autobiography. I think it would be fascinating. Your mom’s journals sound like my early version – Got up, had breakfast, went to school, came home did homework, played out. But, you don’t need journals to write your life story – it’s all in your head.
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Some days I believe the memories in my head are from many universes. 😊
I was telling my sister about something that happened when I was a child. We used to have milk delivered to our door. I must have been around 5 and wanted show I was a “big girl.” I carried the milk to my mother — who was in the den that was down a hallway. I slipped before making it to her door, the glass jars broke, and when mom saw what happened, it made her laugh. I was so humiliated.
My sister said, “That didn’t happen to you, that happened to me.”
Perhaps it happened to her in another universe. Who knows if it happened at all. That’s why your journals were so important later on in life. They helped you to tell your wonderful Afghanistan stories.
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My sister and I often remember the same event totally differently.
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I love the Isaac Newton picture. I plan to steal it. I think your life story would be amazing. When we share our insides (guts) with others, it’s not only a release of sorts, but it can be totally cathartic. I’d read your story in a minute.
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Thanks. 🙂
You’re welcome to steal the Isaac meme that I stole.
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Lol
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Thanks for writing your autobiography in such a delightfully sneaky way. What a life. To quote myself, “I thought I’d write a simple bio/(as in you-live-and-then-you-die-oh)/but look, my bio is inflating/it’s a blockbuster-a zeppelin –/ an epic — and I wonder/ if this miracle of life will ever end.
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Thanks. 🙂
Looks like you’ve already started your autobiography.
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It’s all hidden away in poems and novels. No need for the epic!
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I just looked over your blog. You are such a fascinating person! IT before people knew what it was, lived in Kyoto…what stories you have, and you’ve no problem telling them.
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And you are a big reader! Thank you–we all have stories, I find.
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