The Ocean

Last week I went to the raging ocean.
The sand blew at my legs and my skirt flew up and I felt like I was in a novel.
Do you ever describe yourself in your head. As if someone were writing a novel about you right now?
Third person.
I think about it all the time. Grand sweeping descriptions we sometimes write, sometimes read, about a person. “She was overcome by children and middle age,” or “her once SOMETHING body, was now sagging and tired, her energy swept up with the legos and the ants that crawled across the kitchen floor.”
I always feel bad for myself that this is how I’m being described. Is this what people see? Is this their sentence when they interact with me, or observe me wrestling my kids? How dare they! They don’t know me. They don’t know what’s really happening, the hope and the joy and sadness and the fears. They are putting me in a sentence. A generalization.
I get all kinds of upset.
And then I realize no one has written this down about me except myself in my fake novel in my head.
And then I really feel sorry for myself.

Also, I read The Ocean at the End of Lane by Neil Gaiman. I’ve been wanting to read this for a long long time. It took me a day. Less than a day. And I keep thinking about it.

Listen to this podcast and see if you want to read it too.



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3 responses to “The Ocean

  1. CLW

    So one summer my sister read all my grandmother’s Harlequin Romance novels when they stayed together. My sis wrote me a letter (this Stephen King reader) that went something like this: “I went to check the mail,” she said. “The wind tossed my hair and played lovingly ’round my ankles. Somewhere, I knew, my unknown lover watched me.” Okay, it wasn’t exactly like that. But I remember laughing my butt off (it has since grown back).

    I always think of me in a novel. A tragedy. A Stranger than Fiction. With no money, no great cookies, and no terrific boyfriend.

  2. I refer to myself in the third person sometimes. Maybe it’s a way for us to disconnect from ourselves. Like all the crappy real-life things are happening to someone who isn’t me. A way to deal. Or maybe we’re just all crazy.

  3. benschwensch

    Once again, AnnDee strikes Gold! You made me laugh and laugh at this. And when I read it to Herb, he even admitted to “starring” in his own mind in one novel or another.


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