Drama Queen

I'm a drama queen. I know this and i admit it freely; nay proudly. I come from a long line of drama queens in fact, it's an integral part of my heritage (refer to 'about me'). My mama is a drama queen, my auntie is a drama queen, my grandma is definitely a drama queen and my little sister is THE drama queen. I must say i like a good bit of drama, it gives daily life more excitement and flavour. I grew up in a house full of drama and it was encouraged and considered a healthy way of expressing and understanding our own and each other's emotions.

But now there's no-one in my house but me to be dramatic and it's rather defeatist to be a drama queen without an audience to appreciate it. This hasn't stopped me in my dramatic expression, far from it - it just makes it rather hollow.

The other day i realised my work uniform was dirty because no one had done the washing. I promptly muttered about slackers and roughly manhandled the garments in question and the washing machine, slamming it's door shut and storming out of the laundry for extra dramatic effect but no one was there to notice and since I'm home alone it was really my fault that the washing hadn't been done and the outburst was therefore directed at myself.

Then last night i was doing the dishes and laughing as i washed a big knife impulsively covered my lower face in bubbled so i had a snowy beard and proceeded to act out the stabbing scene from psycho with the knife with Santa as the killer. Yet again there was no one to appreciate and laugh at this improper humour but myself (and i did, it was quite hilarious).

Only this morning, when i forced myself out of bed at 6.00am, i was alarmed at how cold it was and complained vehemently about it as i shuddered and shivered and hopped from foot to foot melodramatically then clutched at my mug of tea like a desperate housewife clutches her Valium, but no one cared i was freezing to death. To further this point i realised after getting out of the shower upstairs that the clothes i wanted to wear were downstairs in my room at the end of the house. So wet and naked and squealing with cold i made a mad dash down through the house, grabbed the clothes as i turned consistently bluer and dashed back upstairs where i quickly dived under the covers of the bed and huddled shivering. Just to make it clear how much i was suffering and how my delicate self was compromised by the experience i got dressed in bed so i could stay warm. Yet no one was there to witness my drama or tell me to get over it and what a princess i am.

My friends are my salvation. I at least know i can let loose with the drama around them and they'll react - even if it's to shake their head and tut at my folly (James) or laugh at the scenes i cause or the situations i manage to put myself in (Maya). That's all any drama queen desires: to be noticed and to cause a reaction. I like to think that in my won small way that i make a positive difference to the lives of those i touch with my exuberant and melodramatic flair by distracting them and giving joy. I do what i can.

How was that for drama?