“…and they lived happily ever after. Snap! Not that – The villain died. Oh, sorry, I meant The Lovers. You remember those two lovey-dovey partners who fell in love like in the movie Titanic? I am so sad it was a whole tragedy, Dammy.” I narrated to the ginger-headed girl in locs – who happened to be a roommate and a friend.
She looked at me unperturbed. “Tola, isn’t that one of those movies you’d watch and then they would ruin the whole plot totally? TskTsk, too many twists and turns,” she said, exasperated. “Well, it’s just a movie. You should applaud the actors and actresses for making you feel this miserable. Oh, I forgot, they don’t even know you existed,” she added tauntingly. “Dammy!” I scowled at her. “Okay, okay! Miss,” she replied, smiled dismissively, stood up, and shook her head as she walked to the kitchen.
Drawn into my thoughts, I wondered; But is it all just a plot in the movie? The screams, the torture, and the pain they felt… it’s such a pity how much these movies can control our emotions. From how we fall in love with the characters, to the story in motion, and all those events that build tension and conflict that keep us going. Also, the pacing–the rhythm and speed. And what about those moments of climax? The most intense and critical moments in the movie. Lord! It’s astonishing how it controls everything at that moment.
“Yowch! Hot! Hot!” Dammy hollered from the kitchen, breaking me from my thoughts. “Girl, everything good?” I yelled, standing up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a little oil accident while frying the plantains,” she replied.
I nodded and popped one of those deliciously hot plantains into my mouth, patiently waiting for Dammy to kick me out of the kitchen. She screeched, “Woman!” while raising the skewer fork at me, shooing me away from the kitchen. Laughing, I stylishly patted her head, and scrambled to the door.
Returning to my seat, I found myself drifting back to my thoughts.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if life were like a movie plot? I mean, like the actors and actresses – everything is all planned. For instance, we know what to do, and what not to do. We are given the chance to edit some gloomy scenes out too.”
Imagine where one has numerous opportunities to choose from many options laid out. You could go home, sleep, and eat, unruffled. Just like the directors who guide the crew, and the cinematographer who makes sure the lights and camera angles are set?
Indeed, it would be nice. We wouldn’t be so clueless. We would be more organized and less burdened. Taking risks wouldn’t be so scary, because, just like my roommate said, “It’s just a movie.” And, we can all wipe away our tears after crying without feeling horrible – no sobbing when we lose our loved ones, since “it’s just a movie.”
This makes me remember the incident at home that happened some years back.
“…the wails from my mother when she had that call. I could still feel the heavy books pressed tightly against my chest and hear the loud thuds on the cold floor – mimicking my mother.”
Dammy’s voice finally broke me from my thoughts, shouting out to me that the food was ready. “Smiling, I think I am grateful to have you as a roommate.” I said. She shook her head at me and mumbled, “Olóun jẹ ìyà.”
While eating, I decided to ask, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the world were just a movie plot?” She nodded, looking surprised. Then I continued, “What if it’s all a movie plot?” As a result, all these are scenes but now different. You know, one where we are seen but left behind. One where we are clueless, yet in the know – Maybe it’s a world where you and I have the power to choose, write, and rewrite. Ultimately, we become the director, calling the shots. We are the author, creating our stories and the editor rewriting our mistakes.
She looked at me unfazed and agreed. “We would be shaken but we’ll focus on what we can control,” I said firmly. I caught her laughing at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “What’s with you and all these weird thoughts? Don’t even think about bringing up your so-called movie again,” she warned, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I replied defensively, “Come on Dammy, it was a very nice movie!”
She wiggled her brows as I grinned, shook my head, and then continued eating. With those thoughts reverberating in my mind, it would be nice if life were a movie plot.
Most times, we feel like throwing it all out because we are so frustrated and clueless. But, what if we take a deep breath and imagine all these as a movie plot? Our movie plot. You and I can wield the pen however we wish. I am the director, you are the editor.
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