13/02/11

If I'm being perfectly honest, this week hasn't been the greatest. It's been pretty hard. Now, I'm not a crier, which, if you know me personally, you will probably know. It takes a fair bit of rubbish-ness to get me to cry, and I've never properly cried at books or films (until this week, but still). That said, this week must have set some kind of personal best for amount of breakdowns, and, to make it worse, all of the four times were in public places. Yay me. (Note that at this moment, the part of me that is all "No! You are Magda Salvesen, and you do NOT cry, remember! You are stronger than that, stop it!" is currently sitting on my shoulder sarcastically applauding and cheering, basically calling me a wussy idiot.)

The first mini-breakdown was at this big termly Christian youth event called Vertigo that my area has... well, every term, the second at church the next evening, and the third in the middle of Christian Union at school. The third time was the worst, probably, because it came out of no where, and seemed to shock my friends quite a bit. Embarrassing. The last time doesn't really count because it wasn't for the same reason as the other three, but it did break my record of not having cried at a book or movie in at least 6 years. Long story short (the story being Kazuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go", I went to see the new film of it, knowing pretty much nothing about the story, and not having seen the trailer, only knowing it had Andrew Garfield (my sole reason for going), Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightly and Andrea Riseborough in it (and the guy who played Bill Weasley in the latest Harry Potter, as I later discovered), and, brilliant as the movie was, it is absolutely devastating. Last thing on the Friday of a week where I hadn't slept well and had been fairly miserable was a bit to much, and at the end of the movie I just ended up sobbing for five minutes, while my parents failed to comfort me because they were trying not to laugh at this teenage girl who seemed completely disconsolate. Sometimes, my parents really aren't very good at their jobs.

So yeah, rough week. I'm hoping the next few days will be better, but I have grade predictions, and if I don't get my personally minimum standard of 8 A*s, I'm screwed.

I also just made the decision to spend my day watching Lord of the Rings to comfort myself, and then realised I don't have seven hours to spare. 

Disappoint.

The Art of Fiction

I spend a lot of my time thinking in hypothetical situations, like small movie clips in my head. I think very visually, and therefore the way I think through situations is by playing it like a scene in a film in my head, trying out different outcomes for said situation. If I'm honest, large amounts of reading means that the hypothetical outcomes tend to rely on me being a bolder and more dramatic person than I actually am. The scenes are like works of fiction. They would work perfectly in books, but would never happen in real life. Or at least not in my life.

In this post I'm going to create a situation, and show it in two different fictional ways, and the way it would actually happen.

Fictional Scene Version 1 - The Fairy Tale Fiction

She was about to turn the page before realising that she hadn't taken in anything the past page and a bit had said. Sighing, she cast her eyes back to the start of the chapter, and started reading it again.

She looked up as someone entered the alcove she was sat in. It was Alex, a boy on her philosophy course who she had spoken to a few times. One of her best friends spent quite a lot of time with him, but whenever she was he didn't so much as glance at her, didn't even blink when she raised a hand in greeting, and for some reason it kind of ticked her off. She wasn't sure why she cared; she didn't know the guy. He was just a friend of a friend.

Maybe that was the problem. If he didn't know her, what reason would he have for failing to acknowledge her existence? He could return the greeting out of politeness, surely?

Alex scanned the bookshelves, not seeming to have noticed her. Then again, it would be hard to tell if he had. She lowered her eyes to her book.

"Hey. Georgie, right?"

She looked up again, hastening to cover up the surprise she could feel etched onto her face.

"Uh, yeah. Hi."

"I'm sorry, this might seem a little weird, considering we haven't spoken before. I'm Alex, I'm a friend of Catherine's." He held out a hand, and Georgie took it somewhat hesitantly.

"I know," she said, and realised as Alex winced slightly it must have come out rather harshly.

"Yeah, I expect you do. Look, I'm sorry for never having said hi before. Must have seemed kinda rude..."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't. I haven't got an excuse for not doing so. Hell, I haven't even got a genuine reason for it." He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"Okay."

Alex glanced down at the book in his hands.

"Right, well, I have to go, but I'll see you around."

"Bye." She half lifted a hand to give him a brief wave. Just as he brushed past her, he paused.

"Want to get coffee some time?"

"Sure," she smiles.

"Good. Well, I'll see you in class."

Fictional Version 2 - The Teen Angst Fiction

She was about to turn the page before realising that she hadn't taken in anything the past page and a bit had said. Sighing, she cast her eyes back to the start of the chapter, and started reading it again.

She looked up as someone entered the alcove she was sat in. It was Alex, a boy on her philosophy course who she had spoken to a few times. One of her best friends spent quite a lot of time with him, but whenever she was he didn't so much as glance at her, didn't even blink when she raised a hand in greeting, and for some reason it really ticked her off. She wasn't sure why she cared; she didn't know the guy. He was just a friend of a friend.

Maybe that was the problem. If he didn't know her, what reason would he have for failing to acknowledge her existence? He could return the greeting out of politeness, surely?

Alex scanned the bookshelves, not seeming to have noticed her. Then again, it would be hard to tell if he had, she thought bitterly. She glowered at an inappropriate etching on the desk.

"What're you reading?"

She looked up, meeting his eyes. Her stare was cool, blank.

"Why?" she asked flatly, not looking away from him, a small part of her wondering at the strangeness of how a face shows nothing, nothing, of what a person is actually thinking. There was no way 'the windows of the soul' could ever show how many thoughts were flying around her head at that moment, mere centimetres behind them.

Alex seems to shrink slightly at her glare. Good, she thought, at least now he knows how I feel every time he looks past me as if no one's there.

"I was just asking..."

"Do you always interrupt people you've never spoken to before when they're working, or is that a privilege you save just for me?" she spat, half wondering where this ferocity was coming from. It raged inside her like a possessed animal, hissing and spitting, hackles raised.

Alex seemed to be about to say something, but Georgie wasn't finished.

"Did you ever even notice me? Did you realise I was there? Or could you not be bothered to turn and say hello? Are you so much better than me that I wasn't worth speaking to?" She ended, suddenly very weary, the fire that had boiled inside simmering down to embers. "Actually, whatever. Save your excuses. I don't want them." She stood, throwing her book into her bag and shouldering it. As she strode away one thought made her smile. He could hardly fail to notice her now.

Real Life Version - How (Unfortunately) It Would Actually Happen

She was about to turn the page before realising that she hadn't taken in anything the past page and a bit had said. Sighing, she cast her eyes back to the start of the chapter, and started reading it again.

She looked up as someone entered the alcove she was sat in. It was Alex, a boy on her philosophy course who she had spoken to a few times. One of her best friends spent quite a lot of time with him, but whenever she was he didn't so much as glance at her, didn't even blink when she raised a hand in greeting, and for some reason it kind of annoyed her a little. She wasn't sure why she cared; she didn't know the guy. He was just a friend of a friend.

Maybe that was the problem. If he didn't know her, what reason would he have for failing to acknowledge her existence? He could return the greeting out of politeness, surely?

Alex scanned the bookshelves, not seeming to have noticed her. Then again, it would be hard to tell if he had.

Alex found the book he was looking for and left, not even glancing at her as she passed. Georgie closed her book and picked up her bag. There was no way she would be able to concentrate now.

And that's the art of fiction. If all books/TV shows/films were written like the events would happen in real life, no one would read/watch them. Apart from really boring people. And people who are severely depressed over how boring their lives are. And people who like satire. Boring satire. Why? Because nothing would happen. Instead of the two characters becoming friends or going out, nothing happens. They live their lives, the girl remembering with some sadness the guy that never noticed her, and the guy just lives his life, perhaps never even realising she exists.

So, from now on, I will never complain when a book is unrealistic. Okay, that's a lie, because I know I will.

I'll just remember to keep in mind that essentially, real life can be a total let down in the interesting zone. But it certainly has its moments.