Sometimes I look around this Earth and I think it's funny that all of those other people think that they are the main character in the story when, clearly, I am. I like to let them hold onto their delusions, because they make more interesting minor characters when they think they have to hold up the main plot of the story.
For example, I recently ran into an ex-boyfriend. Now, according to my story, we didn't work out because we were too young, and we didn't try hard enough. His story is that we weren't even a good fit. In fact, according to his story, we were such a not-good-fit, he rarely even thinks about me any more. I'm not sure how I can let the memory of this failed relationship continue to eat away at me and make me worry that I didn't try hard enough if he's not even going to think about me with any sort of regret. It's ridiculous. Luckily, I'm the main character, and all of the rules of story-telling demand that I show growth and change by the end of the story, so perhaps this will be the year of letting go and finally finding happiness.
My other new story this year will be that instead of the being the Woman Who Drinks Coffee Alone, I am now the Woman Who Joins Groups. And so this morning, The Woman Who Joins Groups got up to walk the dog in her running clothes, and then drove her ice-covered car to Uptown, where she joined a group of runners in the -1 degree weather to run around the lakes. Then The Woman Who Joins Groups went to a coffee shop where the cute boy behind the counter made her some coffee, and she pretended that he did it because he wanted to, and not just because she gave him a 50% tip on her order.
On Friday, I'm going to eat dinner with a bunch of strangers at a restaurant. I've done this once before with a group of strangers that eats dinner in restaurants, and, frankly, I've found it somewhat stressful, but that was last year, before I took on this new role. Now, I will take it in stride, because I'm used to Joining Groups. It's What I Do.
You'll see. 2009 will be a year of happy stories, full of new people and new adventures. It will be the year I let old pain die, and I force myself out of the rut of thinking that I'm the tragic heroine of a tragic story of what might have been.
Or, maybe it's just the last day of winter break, and I'd rather make up stories than figure out what the heck I'm teaching tomorrow.