REALITY
I was reading an article about how some of today’s celebrities aren’t known for being artists. Many are famous for simply being famous. People like Paris Hilton, Chloe Kardashian or Jon Grosselin. Of course, being rich or an offspring of a bona fide celebrity helps.
It makes me wonder if I could become famous. Offhand, I think much of my everyday life is trivial or mundane. But if I can create conflict or drama, then I have a story. And the more interesting the story, the more people will want to know what happens.
The thought of having a camera crew recording my every movement and utterance doesn’t exactly appeal to me. But I imagine one gets used to it. Hey, I could get so used to it that I cry when the crew is gone, like the “Jon and Kate Plus 8” kids.
So here’s a brief snapshot of a typical morning for me. I’ll let you be the judge of whether it makes for great reality show fodder or not.
Denise wakes up and looks at the clock. It’s 8:30 a.m. She rolls over to go back to sleep, but can’t. There’s a squawking blue jay in the tree outside her bedroom window. Denise mumbles about a shotgun and blowing the pretty bird to smithereens.
She gets out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom. Denise turns on the light, jumping back from the sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She washes her face, squeezing out blackheads with her thumb and forefinger.
Denise examines her teeth in the mirror. She picks up her toothbrush and brushes her teeth with toothpaste that lightens, brightens, disinfects and freshens. Then she runs a hair brush quickly through her hair, cursing about her uneven bangs and the hairdresser who cut them.
She finishes her toilet with a short stint on the bowl. Denise smears some antiperspirant under her armpits and sniffs at them, dreamily mumbling about tropical mango.
She returns to the dresser near her bed, rummaging through one of the drawers for clothes. Denise extracts blue jammy bottoms. This is paired with a grey sweatshirt with “Charlotte” stitched across the front. One of the “t” letters is missing, so Denise gets a black magic marker and writes it in.
To complete her ensemble, Denise puts on heavy socks and stuffs her feet into slippers that dust the floor as she walks. Denise skates around the wood floor of the bedroom, mopping vigorously as she makes her way into the kitchen.
Yesterday’s coffee is still sitting in the coffee pot. Denise pours herself a cup and drinks the coffee cold. Bills and other miscellaneous mail litter the kitchen table. She’s just about to brush the paperwork aside, when she sees an envelope she’s been waiting for.
Denise grabs it up, ripping the seam quickly with her fingernail. She scowls as she scans its contents. It’s another job rejection letter. The text is short, to the point, and there are several mis-spelled words. She circles the misspelled words in heavy marker. Then she takes out her cell phone, dialing the phone number on the letterhead.
Denise introduces herself and asks to speak with the hiring manager. She gets transferred several times. Denise listens to a voice message, impatiently tapping her foot.
We hear a beep. Denise opens her mouth and… (FADE TO BLACK)
Will Denise lose it on the phone? Will she be outwardly upset over being rejected by people who can’t spell? Tune in tomorrow, same time, same place, to find out.
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