Stations
Walking to work this morning I find myself thinking about how the different projections of myself are like TV stations.
As a child, my parents tried to change the station, to something more socially acceptable perhaps, but I don’t think any of us knew where the remote was. So the show was sad, scary, super awkward and occasionally amusing. Mostly just confusing though.
In college I found a station I liked, but I still didn’t know where the remote was. Sometimes the channel would change, and that other projection wouldn’t know how to handle her predicaments. It wasn’t great.
A few years later I discovered alcohol could change the channel. Not a remote but gave me a feeling of power. A way to slip effortlessly into a channel where I felt good about who I was seeing.
Until it brought me to a new channel. And another. And another. And then ones I don’t remember. She exists though, in people’s memory and cell phone videos and security cameras. And she’s not always terrible but I never remember the show playing on those channels.
I seem to have lost control over my metaphor. Anyway.
All this to say that, I am still looking for the damn remote. I’m glad though, I don’t respond to the Universal kind.
Dexter
My personal trainer, in I guess an attempt to bond her clients, asked what our favorite show was. Although I haven't watched past the first season, my inclination was to say, "At the risk of this saying too much about me, Dexter."
I mean, I guess that says everything about me, no?
Season 1 was 2006, so clearly I haven't moved past then. We won't talk about the reasons.
Hey though, what's your favorite show?
Lone Star
I self-published my book. Waited nervously as it gathered internet dust for a few weeks. I made a new email account. Posted a scathing one-star review. Took to Facebook, Instagram and X (but this was when it was still twitter) with my fake review, tearfully lamented this denigration of my life's work. Friends, family and acquaintances all became keyboard warriors in my defense.
I sat back and watched social media work its magic. My lone star quickly multiplied until I averaged that top tier 5-star rating. Purchases were made, first out of pity and then (I'm hoping!) as a recommended read.
Names I didn't recognize began to show up. I was trending. A complimentary review appeared on a blog, then a few more, next I was invited to a podcast. Publishers started to show interest. Someone started a fan page (no, it wasn't me).
The crazy part? That review I wrote was everything I was scared was true about my book. Was it deceitful, what I did? I mean, if that review were true, surely the buzz would have withered and died by now. But still, I feel like a castle built on a lie can be nothing but corrupt.
Do I care?