Thursday, April 19, 2012

Aye, there's the rub

I don't know what that means, but I like to say it sometimes because Shakespeare said it sometimes, and when Shakespeare talks, people listen.

That's my philosophy; If you want people to listen, throw some Shakespeare into the mix. Nod your head sympathetically once in a while and say, aye, there's the rub. It works especially well when someone is confused, or conflicted. Or, if you're conversing with Hamlet while he's trying to decide whether to be or not to be.

Aye, there's the rub!

I said this to my daughter last night after she read yesterday's post about American Promises (in bed).

"WOW, Mom," she said. "You put a lot of words in my mouth."

"I know," I said. "I'm good at it, huh?"

"But like, you made it sound like I was not only in the conversation, but also of the conversation."

"I know," I told her. "And I made it sound like people like you too."

"Only thing is, I wasn't in the conversation, or of the conversation," she said.

"Aye, there's the rub!" I said. "There's. the. rub."

Truth is, the only thing my daughter actually said while I was reading all the American Promises and adding (in bed) was, "Mom, you're making me uncomfortable."

I don't know why alluding to sleep makes her squirm, but she turns away when vampires kiss on television too.

True story.

But true stories are dull. That's where I come in. To capture the essence of a conversation--not the conversation as it was, but the conversation as it was meant to be.

I don't necessarily repeat what people say word for word, I repeat what I want them to say, word for word. It's called wish fulfillment.

Wish fulfillment is why writer's write. Learned that in college.

See sometimes I wish my daughter wouldn't say, "Mom, you're making me uncomfortable," so I pick up my pen and write in what I wish she would say. Somewhere deep inside her I believe there is a place that doesn't get uncomfortable when I speak (or when vampires kiss). By putting words in her mouth I am tapping into that place.

I'm not lying, I'm just liberating.

Sometimes I liberate my hub's words too. I'm like an artist that way--a great French photographer, maybe, or a painter--not a literalist, but an impressionist, who communicates other people's exact thoughts rather than their exact words.

My hub may not say all the words I put into his mouth, but he thinks all the thoughts I put into his head.

For example, he may not say, "Frailty, thy name is woman!" like Shakespeare did, but I know he thinks it, especially when I water the new grass for 34 minutes instead of four minutes like he told me to, over and over.

See 34 minutes makes new grass puddle and you want to avoid puddling new grass at all costs, particularly after your husband spent 18 hours a day over the weekend tilling and shoveling, and seeding, and moving rocks, and as Shakespeare would say, "throwing compost on the weeds."

There's the rub!

You get me?


P.S. For the record, I have never had to liberate any of my MIL's words. I always quote her directly because she is totally in tune with her inner uncomfortable thoughts.


Garden of Egan said...

I would think you wouldn't want to think about your mother-in-law in bed.
Just sayin'

I can see that your daughter might be a bit uncomfy....

Dolly said...

What is the appropriate acronym for smiling while nodding? This story made me smile and nod a lot. I don't LOL so much but the smiling and nodding feels really good.

I still remember how my words were liberated and you wrote EXACTLY what we meant to do but maybe didn't come off that way if you had witnessed it in person. It was totally an arm wrestling match gone wild when I tried to rub shoulders with Jack Johnson and you were getting photogenic proof that you were his bigger fan. Huumph. Now I'm remembering that I have no photogenic proof. But I still have the wish fulfillment story written about me. Thanks!

Tatum should count herself as lucky to not have to write her own journal exclusively. It's itchy to go back and read what your teenage brain writes. So much better leaving it to a pro.

Dolly said...

SWN again. I just read the American Promise (in bed) post and now I give Tatum full support in being a little uncomfortable--temporarily. But she's just going to have to move to New York or Paris or San Francisco and then realize that she is lucky to be raised by a writer.

You are so funny D!

The Crash Test Dummy said...

Ha ha Dolly, Yes, I remember that well.

Garden, hahahaha ewwww, that was a dummy joke. I can't believe I didn't think to write it myself. ha ha

Martha said...

So in other words, we shouldn't believe a dang thing you write? And we especially shouldn't believe what you interpret pictures that you post on this blog.

The Crash Test Dummy said...

Hee hee. No, you should believe the spirit of what I write, rather than the letters. ;) And hey, pictures speak for themselves, without my interpretation. ha ha

I showed my kids that Turkey Trot picture a few weeks ago and you should have seen Zach laughing. He really got a kick out of it. It was like he'd never seen it before.

Kazzy said...

You and your rubs! I just love ya.