Han shot first.
He did.
To say he didn’t, to re-edit in order to soften completely undermines his redemption at the end when he comes back to help Luke.
This got me thinking about how we edit our lives all the time. I can’t speak for the universal We, though, that is a presumption I am trying to shed. But I know I edit my story to make it palatable for public consumption, or, more specifically, to make myself more palatable for public consumption. Here is some tangible proof:
- I do not post the selfies that highlight my aging neck. For example…Not too long ago, in the wee hours of the morning, my one year old pup, who is an awkward cuddler, managed to curl himself around my head as we tried falling back to sleep on the couch after an early morning pee, for both of us. It was adorable beyond the nth degree. So, I tried to snap a selfie without disturbing him. But it proved quite challenging to memorialize his cuteness while striving for mine. I quickly discovered that, at this age, when I lie down there is no distinction between my neck and my chin; my neck kind of billows out gelatinously like a Mad Max character. The first few pictures were not just a crime of photographic composition, but also a crime to my waning ego. So I moved the camera, I angled my head impossibly, I jutted my chin out, I tried to highlight the cheek with fewer blemishes, I tried with glasses on, with glasses off. I knew I’d never equal the cuteness of the pup, but I was trying to find a happy medium between that and Mad Max. I ultimately abandoned it altogether, because I could not find the balance. I should have gone with the original picture, because Han shot first.
- I say “that book’s on my list.” And it is, but I don’t say that I probably won’t read it because the next book in the Her Royal Spyness series just came out. Just like I keep telling people that I will watch Succession and The Last of Us, but instead I binge Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The New Girl and How I Met Your Mother because they make me feel good. I want to strive for enlightenment, but I also want to relax and laugh and watch Jess & Nick finally get together. But I’m not gonna tell you that, because I want you to think that I’m striving for enlightenment. I should just tell you that my taste runs shallow, because Han shot first.
- I like👍more Facebook and Instagram posts than I actually like. Like, way more. Because I don’t want to be an ass hole. More accurately, I don’t want to be perceived as an ass hole. But, sometimes, I’m as interested in your cat pictures as you are in my dog pictures. But I keep hitting like or love, because, of course, I want you to like or love me, and that little blue thumb will definitely tip the scales in my favor. I should just like or love the things on social media that I actually like and love, because, you’re not keeping track, and Han shot first.
- I say “It’s fine,” or “I’m fine,” or “It’s ok,” or “I’m ok.” The reality is ‘it’ and ‘I’ am not fine or ok. When I say that, I’m probably either mad, or annoyed or crushed. But I say I’m fine in an effort to read the room or the moment, or weigh who, you or me, is closer to the breaking point. And then I go into another room to either do the thing I’m ‘ok’ with, or escape the agreement I’m ‘fine’ with, and busy myself while muttering all of the things I’m not ‘fine’ or ‘ok’ with. Or I go somewhere to cry so you don’t see why I’m not ‘fine’ or ‘ok.’ I should just tell you I’m not ‘fine’ or ‘ok,’ because Han shot first.
- I rid my car of the empty Diet Coke bottles before I pick you up because I don’t want you to know I drink Diet Coke…or how much of it I drink. Because you drink water or kombucha, or tea, or Pellegrino, or just something infinitely healthier, and I don’t want you to know how gross I am. Or weak. Or unenlightened. Or gross. So I gather the bottles in my cup holders. And the ones in the door cup holders. And the ones rolling around on the floor of the back seat. And the front seat. I do responsibly toss them in the recycling, before I give you a ride anywhere. I should still clean out my car, but I should just drink my Diet Coke in front of you, because Han shot first.
He did. Because he is imperfect. To claim otherwise, shows a shocking lack of trust in audiences and in all human beings. As do all of my edits. The ones above only scratch the surface. And worse than not trusting all of you, is not trusting myself. Not owning and loving my imperfections. Not trusting that I will know when to limit my Diet Coke intake, and be brave enough to tell you I’m not ‘fine’ or ‘ok,’ and know that you don’t ultimately care if I acknowledge your social media post, or admit I like sitcoms, or just suck it up and post my billowing neck because you’re really only looking at the puppy. Han knew when to come back and help Luke blow up the Death Star. He just didn’t trust he could until he found the people who revealed to him that he was worth trusting himself for, and trusting himself with. Because it takes a village who loves you enough to let you be who you are, and loves you enough to call you on your shit when you’re ready to hear it and even when you’re not but you say you’re ‘ok.’
Edits can be good. We are all first and second and 33rd drafts, but the best edits are the ones that reveal an authentic, unfiltered, true to the moment story full of imperfections and trust.
I am an imperfect scoundrel, who will try to reduce my unnecessary edits, and I will show up to help you defeat whatever your Death Star is, and my Millennium Falcon will have Diet Coke in the cup holder, because Han shot first.
