“I feel myself trying to be charming, and then I realize I’m obviously trying to be charming, and then I try to be even more charming to make up for the fake charm, and then I’ve basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I’m dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me. There’s a bowler and jazz hands and lots of teeth.”
― Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl
Now we all know how much I loved Gone Girl (along with millions of other people), but that’s not why I chose this quote. I also don’t think I try to be particularly charming, but I sometimes I recognize that Liza Minnelli moment. I actually get caught up in the moment of just trying to be me.
During lunch with my coworkers last week, one of my new friends asked me what these “good reads” were that kept showing up on Facebook. So I explained the beauty of Goodreads, which led to another discussion of, “How do manage to read so many books?” which somehow led to, “And you have a blog?” As I tried to explain myself, and my penchant for sharing life’s moments with the virtual world, I felt the glare of the spotlight.
First of all I became the center of attention. This is a place I used to love. I literally grew up on stage. I can hold my own in the spotlight, but it’s no longer a position I seek. And I wondered in that moment how the conversation became about me? All of these people read. They all have families and most have on-line identities.
Then I started to feel a little defensive. As they asked me how I managed to keep up with all these things, the implied question seemed to be, “Why?” Why do I maintain so many threads of conversation? Am I trying to hard? Should I let something go? (I’m sure Liza has asked herself versions of these questions many times.)
In the end I laughed off the questions with a general, “I know. I’m just crazy.” (Deflection is another of my great skills.)
Once I was out of the spotlight, I realized that I am a little crazy — for imagining a spotlight where there was just inquiry. I am so grateful that my new friends are interested in me, that we can chat and laugh at lunch. It’s just been so long since I’ve let new people into my life that I forgot for a minute how to do it.
All of this happened in the space of 5 minutes. It left me a little winded. Poor Liza. This is her whole life.
alenaslife 
Love it! I stopped being Liza when my brain fell out, but I’ve been there, done that and I remember giggling at that quote in the book. A little Liza is not a bad thing, but no one should wear sequins more than once or twice.
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I’ll definitely keep that advice in mind.
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Well thank you for letting me in. I am glad to be a part of it.
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Thank you friend. I’m lucky to have you.
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I think we all have a little Liza in us, some more than others. You reminded me with this Qoute that despite a less than perfect ending for me, I still enjoyed Gone Girl. I can deal with a truckload of Liza’s, but I could never deal with an Amazing Amy.
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I read Gone Girls solely on your advice. Didn’t even read your full review, just knew that if you loved it that much that it was a safe bet. I wasn’t wrong. Even though it wasn’t a genre I would normally read, I loved it. And I have badgered many others to read it. And they wouldn’t have read it if I hadn’t heard about it from you and badgered them into reading it. So. Thank you.
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That brings me incredible joy. I feel the same way about “The Sense of an Ending” which I finally read after your comments. I love it whole-heartedly. Did you read Rules of Civility? I think you’ll like it.
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