Me: An Ongoing Mockumentary
Posted by Carol Starr Schneider on Dec 28th, 2007
I sit here in my robe, sipping lukewarm coffee, with no one to picket at the moment but my own, rapidly-aging self.
As 2007 draws to a close, I take one last look back on a year’s worth of material. I’ve poked fun at many different targets, from a Golden Globe winner/acquitted murderer encountered at the dry cleaners, to a rock goddess/toilet paper conservationist, to a jailbird heiress aptly named Paris.
And yet, the subject I’ve mocked the most this year, and just about every year preceding, is… well… me. I believe that this trait dates back to the tender age of three, when I rolled out of bed, landed on the hard floor and broke my collar bone.
How many times have I asked myself: Was that linoleum-hugging gesture a plea for attention? At last count, 22.5 times. Consider the evidence. There I was, overshadowed by two older brothers who liked to leap out of second floor bedroom windows for no particular reason.
It’s quite possible that I decided to grab my share of the limelight by splintering a strategic skeletal part. True, a pie in the face might have done the trick and saved Mom and Dad in medical bills. But then I wouldn’t have had a giant arm sling for comic relief. For six weeks, I teeter-tottered from side to side like a little drunken clown, getting big laughs at my own expense.
Oh, it drove my brothers crazy. They beat each other up hourly. They rolled down the driveway head-first and blind-folded. They set the hamsters free in the house. Anything to regain the spotlight. Nice try, guys. Nothing was funnier than a lopsided three-year-old negotiating the stairway like Charlie Chaplin.
From that glorious day forward, I realized it’s better to make fun of myself before someone else gets there first. This early discovery not only sums up my philosophy on life, but explains my writing career. Each time my fingers tap the keyboard, rejection lurks nearby, waiting to pounce. It’s the one thing I can bank on, the one thing I can always milk for laughs. Hysterical crying is also an option, but not nearly as entertaining.
On the rare occasion that someone utters, “I love this script!” the next words will bring cause for alarm: “I have just a few changes in mind.” Survival in this town dictates that any proclamation of affection must be viewed with suspicion.
Sure, success visits briefly from time to time. It brings candy and flowers and imported jams. Failure sets up camp like an unwelcome guest and refuses to leave.
Sometimes it seems I go out of my way to invite failure in for an extended stay. Why, just this year, I spent many months crafting a non-fiction book about the girth of my behind.
So far, no takers.
Just the fact that no one’s lining up to buy it – not yet anyway – doesn’t deter me. Maybe I’m on to something bigger than my butt. Then again, maybe not. But I’m not about to give up on my goal: A bestseller before I turn 90. I’ve got 40 years to make it happen.
What’s the hurry?
Whether I sit across from Matt Lauer hyping my wares one day (or not), I remain my favorite object of ridicule. There’s just so much to work with, from my parenting skills, unladylike vocabulary and adoration of my Labrador, to my aversion to whistling, slurping, gum-snapping and waiting in line. Any line.
At this advanced stage, one thing is clear: I’m easily amused by all my shortcomings. And I look forward to sharing more of them with you. In 2008, I plan to keep nudging myself out of my comfort zone. I hope you’ll come along for the ride.
cathy
at 7:48 a.m.
Carol, just had to tell you - I can't stand gum-snapping either. Oooooh, what a pet peeeve it is! Happy New Year and thanks for your entertaining blogs from LaLa Land!
at 1:12 p.m.
Carol, Having spent some time with one of those brothers I may have to agree with you. It could have been a plea for attention as it is hard to overshadow this brothers charm. I could be falling under the same spell. This morning at the table I have a serious look on my face and he asks
P - "What's wrong?"
Me - "I hurt"
P - "physical or emotional?"
Me - "physical-shoulders"
P-"I'll fix that", he rubs my shoulders and goes and gets a hot pack he prepares in the microwave and places across my upper back.
Fear not - I have continued on in your place.
He has found a successful way to stay in the spotlight, and it works.......I love it...