I enjoy memoirs. I like feeling like I’m getting a peek into someone else’s real life experiences. Typically, I most enjoy memoirs that are written by people from a drastically different part of the world, i.e., Iran, Nigeria, somewhere I’ve never bene and whose culture is wholly different than the one in which I grew up and the one in which I currently live.

So it’s amusing to me that I am inadvertently reading not one, but two memoirs right now of women who I strongly relate to (white, overachievers, type-A, bloggers, though that’s where the similarities end).

Reading memoirs of women whose thought processes and neurosis are so similar to mine makes me think about the possibility of writing my own memoir.

I think the trajectory of my life could be interesting, maybe, and both of these books are in essay form, so it would be easy enough to mine the contents of my blog and online essays to cobble together a memoir that would require as little new writing as possible (because: time constraints).

Perhaps one day I’ll do this. But today, I thought it would be fine to think of (ridiculous, unusable, silly) titles for this potential memoir that I might maybe possibly put together one day in the undefined future:

From WASP to JAP: A Memoir

But You Look So Jewish!

What Temple Do You Go To? A Life.

Don’t Tell Anyone You’re A Convert (I already used that title once, heh heh heh)

From Iowa to Oy Vey

From Two Holidays to A Bajillion

Sorry, I Can’t Shake Your Hand

Learning To Speak English Using Yiddish Grammatical Patterns

Everything Is Different But Also A Lot Is The Same

Seminary Means Something Totally New To Me Now

From Jew”ish” to Jewish

 

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