“Your life is like a sitcom.”
Years ago, an acquaintance told my friend and me this as we were recounting one of our many misadventures.
But as I stare blankly at a disconnected, never-flowing, plotless sitcom on the screen before me, it becomes more and more apparent that my life is anything but a sitcom.
Sitcoms never age. Up until their end, the characters have a timeless flair that goes hand in hand with their consistent personality traits and quirks. But I, on the other hand, cannot stay in one shape too long. I can’t be constantly tied to any one catchphrase or habit.
My humorous situations are few and far between, and my friendship shenanigans are monthly at best. The predicaments that I find myself in make me sick to my stomach even when the laugh track plays; I can’t find the joke in anything at my expense.
Our varied circle is only dotted with meetings—diverse interests mean less time to meet. Soon enough, we’ll all be splitting up, and we won’t have the red ribbon tie-up like Friends or The Big Bang Theory. Realistically, our lives are rather drab and disconnected, so Eva and Co. will never see the light of day.
That being said, I am a storyteller.
I don’t romanticize or dramatize, but perhaps, I humorize. I patch snippets of years to make the story of the best week of my life, and years of friendship become the fastest bonds that have ever been formed. This summer was filled with five years’ worth of escapades—that is, five years of stories.
I theatrically recount the most amusing moments with melodramatic inflection, eagerly waiting for my audience to react in a fit of bewilderment and laughter. To exclaim regarding our rascality and daring antics. To mutter to their peers with a grin about what the one bursting with stories had to offer for the day.
And yet, amidst the lie I am living by building up the facade of being a regular on Seinfeld or The Office, these stories have an origin of truth.
Between the blurred, gray scenes that fast forward at 24x speed, there are full-color moments several times per season. Senseless cackling reacts to even more nonsensical calamities, and piece by piece, I have been able to create several episodes with at least a regular cast.
And, as I sit in front of the scene playing out before me, the laugh tracks spin by with a sense of familiarity—a sense of my own circle.
