Conclusion: I am really good at metaphors.

I was an extra in someone else's movie today.

It was a heart-wrenching scene, worthy of a movie based on a Nicholas Sparks novel. It was a gray morning, clouds covering the sky except for those tiny hints of blue; a storm threatening to stay or perhaps blow past. A hint of wind, too, tiny yellow and orange leaves whispering around the couple's ankles as their intense conversation continued. Her eyes were red, makeup smeared as she silently sobbed. Her arms folded, jacketless in the hopes that the storm would indeed avoid this section of the Wasatch foothills, her purple dress shifting with the slight breeze. He was wearing a jacket, white, with one hand held up to his forehead in frustration, disappointment, shame, or any other of a myriad of emotions appropriate to the dramatic scene. A single tear leaked from the corner of his eye, and he was shaking his head in denial of her words or perhaps the entire situation. Who knows what their tragedy was about; this scene is as unique to each pair of lovers as it is ubiquitous to the genre. The end, too, is unclear; will this be Hollywood-style where all conflicts are eventually settled and the couple begins their happily-ever-after as the end credits roll? Or will it be one of those depressing Chinese movies where they each marry someone else and in the end everyone is unhappy or dead? The eventual conclusion cannot be predicted from this brief scene: two people deep in conversation, standing in the gray campus courtyard as the leaves swirl around their feet.

And then there was Ellyn, stomping along on her way to class and valiantly suppressing the urge to stop between the two and say, "Heeeyyyy, wassup!!!"

I deserve some kind of award for not doing that.

But really, the whole situation got me thinking. Here was the succession of my thoughts:
First, "This scene would be an interesting start to a blog post."
Then, "How often are we the extras in someone else's movie and we don't even realize it?"
Follow-up, "And how often do we have important extras in our own movies and we don't even notice them?" (the above is based on the assumption that I am indeed important)

Those people didn't even know I existed. Rightly so; whatever they were discussing was obviously very important and who was I but a random girl walking by on her way to class? Who was I to interrupt their important conversation? No one, that's who. Simply an extra, a random passerby who managed to be on screen for one second. A budding actress who points herself out to her family and friends when they go see the movie in theaters. "That's me," I say, pointing to the screen and trying (but failing) to contain my excitement to a stage whisper, "I'm a movie star."

But I'm not a movie star. I'm just the back of a head moving past as the camera focuses on Channing Tatum and whoever he's starring with this time.

And at the same time, who are they? They're just some people having a teary discussion outside the JSB as I continue the narrative of my movie-life: the everlasting saga of how I don't want to go to Economics again but somehow I still find myself walking through the courtyard. They were just some people standing in the way of my trajectory to class; he was the random guy in a white jacket who I almost bumped into as the glide camera moved with me towards the building doors, my face a mask of resignation. When he goes to see my movie with his friends he's a little more subtle in his excitement, but he still points out the familiar white jacket with secret pride. The people come to see me in all my eyebrow-furrowed glory, but little did they know that they witnessed the screen debut of a certain young man in a white jacket.

Who am I kidding, the arguing couple's movie is a lot more interesting than How Ellyn Didn't Skip Economics (Today). Nobody would go to see that movie (uhh yeah that's an awful title), but the other movie was sold out a week in advance. Pssh, whatever, that's just because Channing Tatum was in it. Biceps sell. Not bitter.

I've recently had the experience of having a supporting role in the rom-com of someone else's life: my roommate McKenna's. We ended up sharing an apartment essentially by accident; the room selection process was blind, the only indicator to the personality of your future roommate being a brief questionnaire about your music preferences and what time you go to bed. Three beds in the apartment; I picked my room because the one bed already filled said she liked classic rock. I'm not sure what McKenna's thought process was as she chose the final bed; let's just say that none of us ever go to bed at 11 like we answered we would. And there is a little too much rap in the apartment for my tastes.

The future of our relationship could be thus: at the end of this year, we part ways and never speak again because we're so sick of one another. Or, we briefly split as I go on a mission and she stays here and when I get back we become roommates again because we're the only people who can stand to live with one another. Either way, we become the people that in twenty years we tell our respective children about, the iconic "I once had a roommate..." stories that hopefully don't end up with anything illegal happening. There are of course other options, but from the intensity of our personalities right now I am only seeing the two above possibilities as the conclusion to our story.

But we're not at the end of our story yet. No, we are smack dab in the middle and it's a bit rough sometimes. Like any rom-com that involves a dramatic leading lady and the supportive/mildly sarcastic/a bit hermit-y friend, there are ups and downs. There are tears from both drama and laughter, there are passive-aggressive arguments about cleaning up your dishes, there are awkward family pictures taken at one o'clock in the morning. There is a plethora of boy drama, there's stress about school and work and the future and the present, there's giving each other advice and being each other's moms in both good and bad ways. It's a huge giant roller coaster, but you know what? It's fun.

That's right. Life is fun. College is fun. Roommates are fun. It's wonderful to be involved and stressed and learning and cooking and sleep-deprived and heartbroken and hopeful and exhausted all at the same time. Life is short, you know? I have no idea if we'll still be friends in twenty years. What I do know is that we are friends now, and that it is important to treasure that relationship and make the most of it while we are here. It doesn't matter that we may just be brief characters who have made an appearance early in the movie, and that the best is yet to come. What matters is that we made a difference to the scene in which we appeared. Besides, the character who shows up for only a brief scene near the beginning is nearly always the one who ends up committing the murder.

Umm.

And so I am left to ponder the complexity of the lives around me and the silken-thread links between my life and theirs. We brush past each other, sometimes literally, as with White Jacket Boy, and sometimes metaphorically, as in the continuing saga of my roommate adventures. We meet new people, some whose contact with us is only a brief paragraph like the guy I talked to twice in Archaeology and thought we might end up being friends but now haven't seen for a month, and some who stay more permanently like the Russian girl I met in seventh grade who I thought was vaguely interesting but I don't know if we'll be friends and is now my favorite person to talk to on the phone. There are sisters, there are crushes, there are best friends, and then there are people who you walk next to for five minutes because you're headed to the same building and you're trying really hard to not to be creeped out but also not be creepy and you're thinking things like "Are you my soul mate?" and "Please don't kill me" but then they turn a corner and you can't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Each has their own movie, and each has made an appearance in yours. Some people are the comic relief and some provide the deep heart-to-heart, plot-forwarding conversations. Some instigate life-changing realizations and some simply brush shoulders with you on the way to class. It is up to you, to them, and to God's plan to determine what role you will play in their movie, and what impact they will have on yours. It is time for us all to decide who we are.

Wow, that all sounded really inspirational.