My dialogue is close to horrible. I love to read but could never write fiction. Plots feel too contrived, too forced. Yet, for as long as I can remember I have been writing scripts. Scripts for how my life would turn out, pages of text filled with expectations and storylines. Far too often I’ve attached myself to them.
We know that expectations can leave you dissapointed but I’m not just talking about hope today. I’m not talking about hoping “he’s the one” after a first date when you finished cross referencing astrological signs. I’m also talking about the negative expectations. The kind you use to guard your heart from failure by saying “he won’t call” or “just my luck” to anyone who will listen. 
It starts early - always being asked what you want to be when you grow up. You’re told to paint pictures and at some point the picture winds up mattering the most. You are taught to project. Still its a wonder to me - how we evolved to thinking this way associating negative expectations with self fulfilling prophesies and dubbing the positive ones unrealistic. I recently learned of a pre-marriage ritual in Judaism. A Ketubah is a marriage contract that explains the basic material, conjugal and moral responsbilities of husband and wife. It is meant as a statement of purpose, outlining the rights and responsibilities of both persons entering the agreement.
I like the idea of that level of honest, open communication between partners. Still - there’s something tugging at me that wants to remain open to the mystery, not the guarantees of conversations, compromises and contracts. There’s not room for mystery and magic on a pages that are already written.
You are right! The pages can’t already be written because they are eternally unfolding. There is no script. People morph and change and evolve constantly. Sometimes it seems it would be nice to box it up neatly like that, all guaranteed.
But that notion also sounds a bit like death.
Michelle O'Neil
September 23rd, 2008