Everyday Canvas

Looking like Whoever and Life like a Novel

Prompt: To know and be known by people whose memories are long enough to tell you how much around the eyes you look like your grandmother gives you a deeper context than you can give herself. What are your feelings on this?

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I don’t look like either of my grandmothers, at all. I kinda look like my mother, like a fouled up, distorted version of her; therefore, I am annoyed when someone says that they think I look like my mother.

As to any deeper context, I don’t think so. I am me. I turned me into who I am. On the outside or the inside, I like to think I am not like anyone in my family. If I wanted to look like someone, it would probably be an uncle who, in the first place, didn’t look like anyone in the family, either because he, too, had grown into his own version of himself.

Prompt: "Approach your lives as if they were novels with their own heroes, villains, red herring, and triumph." Mary Higgins Clark Do you agree with this statement? Is this how you see your life?

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Not really. My life, as weird as it has gotten at times, has nothing to do with what a writer’s mind would invent. If it were to be a novel, it would probably be a badly written one whose protagonist did whatever pleased her, but she did it in an intense fashion and bailed out at iffy moments. Some people might like the protagonist or they might be nice enough to say so, but most anyone would be annoyed with the haphazard plot construction.

Red herrings? Yeah, my life has been filled to the brim with those things that didn’t amount to an ant’s footprint. It is true, however, it was full of surprises and unexpected turns, but not everything in it made sense. Heck, what I did sometimes didn’t make sense!

Not to mention the fact that my life has been filled with the deus-ex-machina moments, which any writer would be scared out of his wits to use in constructing a novel.