Young at Heart (Or "I've Given This Too Much Thought")

As I sit here listening to Darren Criss singing his version of "Not Alone," I'm pondering the song. Lately I've been thinking a lot about my future. And now that I've graduated from college and have a full-time job, things are starting to sink in. Like the fact that I'm 22 years old. In January, I'll turn 23.

Twenty-three.

I feel old.

And - of course - I'm not really all that old. Literally, I'm the baby out of the girls that I work with (they're all 25 or 26). But the fact is that I feel old. It's funny - when you think about your life as a kid, an age like 22 seems ancient. You sit and roll your eyes and think "Oh, when I'm that old, I'll do X, Y, and Z." Funny how life has a way of causing those things to shift into perspective when you actually reach adulthood.

This may surprise you, but I've never really dreamt of my wedding. Not, I suppose, in the traditional sense that a lot of girls do. Lots of little girls plan their weddings out. They know what color they want their bridesmaids to wear. They know where they want to get married. They know what the ring will look like, what flowers they'll have, what kind of cake they'll eat, and what their first dance will be to. We, as girls, like to jokingly dream of our grooms. Often they're celebrities who we will most likely never even meet in our lifetimes, much less fall in love with and marry.

I never did any of those things. And I suppose that, looking back, it's not super weird that I didn't. The tastes of most little girls change drastically by the time they reach adulthood and the point in time in which they are ready to get engaged. I've just recently thought about things like this, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm reaching the age where people around me are getting ready to get married. Perhaps.

It's funny though - most days, not having a boyfriend doesn't faze me. I know that I really am young - I'm 22, for goodness' sake! - and that I have my whole life ahead of me to be married. But hearing about engagements and marriages starts to unsettle me when I think about the reality that I don't have anyone. I suppose that I might feel better if I was dating someone and could have the security of knowing that I would get married down the line. I'd have a prospect, at least.

Here's how it feels during bad days: bad.

Is it so hard to believe that I'm not as strong as I let on sometimes? Is it so difficult for me to admit that I actually want to have someone want me? (The answer to those are no and yes, respectively). Here's something that I've discovered lately: I am defeated before I even begin. When, on occasion, I meet someone who I could actually see myself dating because they're sweet and cute and a good guy (this has happened recently), I defeat myself.

Well, what's the point in getting my hopes up anyway?

Crazy, right?

Maybe that's just who I am these days - crazy. I want the best for myself, but maybe I feel like I won't ever get that because it's too good. The idea that there is someone out there perfectly made for me makes me smile and feel warm and wonderful. But maybe I have to start believing that idea. I dismiss it too often, and I think that's my stumbling block. It makes me feel good to think about it, until I look at where I am and think "Well, if that's true, then what am I doing here?"

... I'm going to continue to think about these things; it's inevitable. But I'm hoping that I'll come to the realization of what I already know: that I am young, God's timing for my life is perfect, and someone out there will love me for the rest of their life, and they probably haven't even met me yet.

This One's For You & Me (Or "Who Am I Writing For?")

"Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It's the one and only thing you have to offer."

- Barbara Kingsolver

Barbara Kingsolver wrote my favorite book, The Poisonwood Bible. And therefore, she holds a special place in my heart as an author. She's extremely talented at constructing believable, redeemable, and wonderful characters, and her plots are always so rich in emotion with just the right balance of comedy and drama. And this quote above has now solidified its place as one of my favorites.

Writers write best when they write for themselves. Perhaps that sounds selfish, so let me attempt to qualify that statement throughout this post. I think that the main question a writer has to answer (regardless of if they are writing poetry, prose, screenplay, etc.) is who they are ultimately writing for. Audience is important, but it is not the end-all-be-all factor in writing. Let me explain.

There is a reason that I love to read the work of other people - other authors and poets, specifically. I love that my mind can be engaged in such a way that only they are able to do. Kingsolver, for example, wrote The Bean Trees, which is just a fantastic book about this young woman who goes on a cross-country road trip and finds herself traveling with a little Native American girl. And in all actuality, the book is nothing spectacular - and by spectacular, I mean that it's not a story that is revolutionary or ground-breaking. But it is real. Every emotion, every nuance is true to the story and to Kingsolver herself.

I suppose that it would be absurd to tell you that writing for an audience is futile and unnecessary. I'd be lying to both you and myself if that were the case. But there is a distinct line of difference that separates the realm of  knowing your audience and writing for them. Writing for an audience does not allow your characters the freedom to be who they should be and do what they ought to do. Writing for an audience means that you are writing to cater them, and them alone. It's this trap that writers fall into because we want so desperately for someone to love our work, to call us genuises and to embrace our stories. But at what cost do we do this? Sadly, we usually compromise what is best for the characters and the plot in an attempt to please everyone. And, as cliche as the old saying is, when you try to please everyone, you usually end up pleasing no one.

Truly, as writers, the only thing we have to offer is ourselves - our honesty, our stories, our characters. If we attempt to squish these things into molds that will be "accepted" by an audience, we ultimately lose sight of the art of writing. We lose the point of it all. It is good to know who you are writing for. It is bad when they are the only people who matter. It's beneficial to find a target audience. Obviously, if you are writing a book about a high school heroine who goes on an adventure with her close friends the summer before she graduates, chances are that your target audience will be people of the same age. Of course, there will always be outliers to this theory, but bear with me. So, you write this story about this girl - it is received moderately by that age group. You find yourself on Amazon.com, scrolling through user comments regarding the book, and note that some people think that your character shouldn't have ended up with Guy X and instead should be with Guy Y. They also don't like the character of her mother - they believe she should be more accepting and less demanding of her teenage daughter.

What do you do?

As a writer, here is what I would suggest: do nothing.

I am often tempted to change my writing based on the opinions of others. And if you are in stages where your writing needs to be edited, and your editor suggests that you tighten up your story by making changes then yes - change away. However, when you let your audience dictate your story, that is where you begin to have issues. Because see, while one lone reviewer on Amazon.com felt that the character's mother was too harsh, the audience member on Barnes and Noble's website felt that she was too lax. If you base a character's behavior on anything other than your own gut instinct, and knowing how that character behaves (because writers have significant relationships with their characters, I believe), you will cause that character to become erratic - they will begin to wobble in personality, wants and needs, etc. And then, you will end up pleasing no one - not even that lone reviewer on Amazon.

So I suppose that the moral of our lesson is that we should strive to accept criticisms of our work by our peers. We should write for ourselves - or rather, write for our characters - rather than our audience. It is significantly important to know who our audience is. But we should never cater them, or write for them alone.

Writing, Writing, and Re-Writing (Or "Why I Have Learned the Importance of Revision")

"Writing is not like painting where you add. It is not what you put on the canvas that the reader sees. Writing is more like a sculpture where you remove, you eliminate in order to make the work visible. Even those pages you remove somehow remain."

- Elie Wiesel

I really admire that quote above, because I feel like it does sum up the process of writing so well. And I will admit - editing my own work is not one of my strongest suits. Today, I'm going to choose to discuss revisions, and why I have learned the importance of writing and re-writing your work in order to make it the best that it can possibly be.

When I first started writing poems and short stories, I was in seventh grade. I grew up in a small, rural town in Pennsylvania where we were required to take classes every year like Home Economics, Woodshop, and Keyboard (don't ask me why, because to this day I still do not know). In seventh grade, we were required to take both an English class and a Writing class. Writing was taught by this older, dark-haired and bespectacled woman named Miss DeNicoula. It was in that class that I learned how to appreciate writing, and - even more than that - fall in love with stories.

Looking back on the things that I wrote in sixth and seventh grade, it's no surprise that I find them to be...crap. I'll give myself credit for being creative, to an extent, but was I brilliant?  No. It's amazing though that I think of myself at the current time any differently. Who's to say that I won't look back on my writing ten years from now and think "Wow, this stuff is terrible"? That is why I've decided to implement a kind of rolling revision process.

Before I explain my process to you, I'll explain why I find revision so difficult. In our Advanced Poetry workshop my senior year of college, the ten or so of us in the class discussed what we find to be the most difficult thing about writing poetry. And most of us - unsurprisingly - said that revising poems was the most difficult feat. My reasoning was pretty much the same as my classmates' - when someone asks you to remove or add to your poem, you almost feel attacked, in a way. A poem is usually something quite personal, and we - as poets - like to feel that everything we write is sacred. If we come up with a phrase that we think is particularly brilliant, we pride ourselves in it. And the worst part is that we think that our words are so sacred that no one else should be able to touch them.

I think poetry is the most difficult thing to revise because it is so intimate and because it's (often) so short. In Advanced Fiction workshops, I had less difficulty revising when my peers or professor told me to develop a character more, or cut a certain scene. Though I was deeply attached to those words and phrases, it just felt less...personal, perhaps, than revising poetry does. And maybe the problem is similar to how we view rejection: walls are constructed. We get defensive when people constructively criticize our work, because we think that their comments and suggestions are some personal attack against us.

And yes, there are definitely exceptions to this case: I will not take every piece of advice that professors or peers give to me, namely because some of them are contradictory. One student may tell me that they love a line, while another may tell me to remove it. Obviously, when it comes down to it, revision is in the hands of the writer. You can tell yourself that you have a brilliant piece of work, and that it is perfect. But if it is getting constantly rejected every time you submit, chances are that you need to revise it. Revision is a healthy part of life. My Advanced Poetry workshop professor took years revising some of his poems until they were as good as they could be. And while I can honestly say that I have not taken years to revise one poem, I have taken the time to let the piece ferment, to distance myself from it so that I can look back on it from a clearer perspective.

So what exactly have been my struggles with revision? Personally, I find it easy to revise the work of others, as I am sure most of us would readily agree to. It's easy to read another person's poem and to be constructive with feedback. It's especially easy with strangers in workshops (like online workshops I have taken in the past where you never actually meet the person whose work you are commenting on), but I've found to be a bit more difficult in friends, and perhaps that's because I revert back to taking offense at everything that a friend may find "wrong" with my work. Or perhaps it is just because I like dishing criticism, but not taking it. Either way, that is definitely something that I struggle with.

So what is the actual purpose of revision? Why is it necessary? If a poem "sounds" right the first time that you write it, shouldn't it just stay that way? Here's where I'm in the process of learning - I'm beginning to realize that not everything I do is sacred. Not every word in my poem is sent from God to the ears of mortals. There are things in poems that I have sitting in my portfolio right now that could be better. We, as writers, need to realize that in order to be successful, we must be constantly evolving and growing. If you're stubborn and egotistical (which most of us are), your work will remain the stagnant. Notice that I didn't say "timeless"?

We, as writers, are attached to our work. It becomes an extension of us, somehow - like a child that we nurture. And, just like children, our work changes and grows. The words themselves will remain stale if we choose to not let them breathe, to refuse to edit because we want to keep things the way that they are. The trait of a mature writer is their ability to cut a paragraph or a phrase that they held so close to them in order to make sure that the overall work itself is the best it can possibly be.

And I'm not quite there, but - just like a lot of things in life - editing is all about baby steps.

May-December Romances (Or "Why I Love Jeff/Annie So Much")

I promised during my post about Community that I would write sometime about why I love Jeff Winger and Annie Edison together so much. I think that this is the perfect time to do it. I’m currently re-watching the second season of my favorite television show with a friend in anticipation for the third season. Since I’m the one catching her up – and she’s seeing these episodes for the first time – we watched up to “Conspiracy Theories and Interior Design” this weekend (which is both a fantastic episode in general, especially for Jim Rash, but also a great Jeff/Annie episode). She was thrilled with the episode, and at the end simply said: “I want Jeff and Annie to date.”

While I’m not sure that I want Jeff and Annie to date at this point in the show (they both have a lot of maturing to do), I will say that as far as a romantic potential pairing, these two are my favorite. When Community first aired, the show set us up to believe that Jeff/Britta was the ideal endgame. All of the TV spots for the show reminded us that the only reason Jeff agreed to form a study group was to impress Britta. The idea of Jeff and Britta together at the beginning didn’t repulse me, honestly, but I never saw the complete appeal of it. As separate characters, I love Jeff and Britta. As best friends/partners-in-crime (something along the lines of Doctor/Donna in Doctor Who) in episodes like “Romantic Expressionism,” I love Jeff and Britta. But I just feel like the pair is too similar in order to work romantically (some disagree, and honestly, to each your own. I will never tell someone that they are wrong for wanting a certain couple together). Perhaps it’s the fact that both of them can be hard-headed and stubborn, or perhaps it’s the fact that – quite often – they bring out the worst qualities in one another. They constantly bicker about everything, and that’s cute to an extent because it highlights their similarities (that’s why episodes like “Anthropology 101” are so funny to me).

But the most intriguing pairing of the show for me is still Jeff and Annie. And I think that the episode that really first highlighted their dynamic for me was “Football, Feminism, & You” in season 1 (also, can I say that this is probably my favorite episode title out of the seasons). In the episode, we really get the sense that Jeff and Annie are both very self-serving characters, but both for vastly different reasons. We know that Jeff, from the pilot episode, is a self-involved character who really dismisses the thoughts and feelings of others in order to serve his agenda. And this is something that he gradually learns to deal with (even slightly throughout this episode) and overcome during the coming seasons. Annie is self-involved in the same way that Shirley is self-involved – not because she is callously selfish, but because she wants control over life, and people, and things to make herself feel more secure.

I think that “Football, Feminism, & You” is one of the first times that we get to see how much Jeff and Annie really can butt heads and affect one another. Jeff makes her cry and she makes him feel guilty. It’s the first real interaction between the two that I think we get, and it’s significant because it shows – even early on – that they both have these strong sort of wills, and both have power to really affect one another. The end of the episode is sweet, and is the first instance that we really get to see how these two characters could be good friends. The “milady”/ “milord” is an exchange that I loved then, still love now, and am glad is a running theme in the show.

“Debate 109” is perhaps the episode that everyone who “ships” Jeff/Annie mentions as the turning point. The episode didn’t just show us that Joel and Alison can work together well chemistry-wise (which they can because they’re both wonderful actors), but also really brought the possibility of these two characters in a romantic relationship together. After the debate kiss, there’s this awesome moment from Jeff where he just looks properly stunned as to what just happened. And I think that – until that moment – he kind of thought of Annie as a little sister. But there’s this moment where you look at someone as more than just a friend. And it’s normally insignificant, but there is always a turning point, and I think this was Jeff’s.

“Romantic Expressionism” is another one of my favorite Jeff/Annie early episodes, because I think it’s a great chance to explore the idea of Jeff being jealous, and beginning to kind of thwart Annie’s attempts at relationships by doing so under false pretenses. This is also probably my favorite Jeff/Britta episode because together those two are just hilarious magic. The single greatest moment in this episode to me, is one of the subtlest Jeff/Annie moments – the “look.” I know it sounds campy and cheesy, but the look that they share is brief and sweet because of how much Jeff truly softens and how genuine his expression is.

I think that what I like the most about these two is that while Jeff/Britta is a perfect couple to highlight similarities between the two, Jeff/Annie is a perfect couple to highlight the differences. And that’s not to say that Jeff and Britta are completely similar or that Jeff and Annie are polar opposites (more on that in a minute), but to me, relationships are hinged on how that other person causes you to change and to respond. Annie brings out the heart in Jeff, I think – she makes him care, and feel guilty and he always goes to her because he knows that (see: “Basic Genealogy”). Jeff, on the other hand, brings out the feisty side of Annie – he causes her to loosen up, and to be less politically correct all the time and to instead learn to be more bold.

Which, of course, comes to a head in “Pascal’s Triangle Revisited.” I’ll be honest – I watched Community backwards. Or rather, I knew about the story backwards. My friend Jaime tweeted the night that the finale aired, freaking out over the Jeff/Annie kiss (and she had every right to be because she ships those two). At her urging, I decided to watch the whole first season. I suppose you could argue that I watched the episodes through slight goggles – obviously, I already knew what would happen at the end of the season. Nevertheless, I had fallen in love with all of the characters on the show, and also the Jeff/Annie ship.

Second season was interesting for me to watch, because people (Jeff/Annie shippers in particular) were bristling after “Anthropology 101.” The argument there was that Annie had matured so much by the end of the previous season, so when she suddenly regressed into a love-struck teenager again at the beginning of season 2, that made her appear child-like. Subsequently, they decided that this was a way for the writers and producers to dismiss the idea of Jeff/Annie as silly. Now don’t get me wrong – I would have loved to see Annie be completely mature and composed during that episode. But here’s my argument – that wouldn’t have really been Annie. That would be Annie at the end of season 2 (now a young woman who can hold her own against Jeff, and the entire school in a game of paintball assassins, mind you!) but not at the beginning.

Annie Edison is my favorite character because she’s so completely intelligent and witty, and yet we forget sometimes that she’s struggling to find her place in Greendale and in life. (I would say that she’s not a girl, not yet a woman, but that would incite all kinds of Britney Spears songs). Annie is a wonderful, beautiful character who is – often – more mature than her older study group companions. And maybe that’s why I don’t have a problem with the “age difference” between Jeff and Annie – because a lot of the times, I forget that Annie is only supposed to be 19. She’s living on her own, supporting herself, and driven to get an education and shake away her high school self. She’s mature.

Relationship-wise, it appears that both of the characters care a lot for one another (Dan Harmon, correct me if I am wrong!) but just don’t know how to proceed (or if to proceed). I’d say that they’re at this sort of impasse, where both have to grow before they can actually have a functional relationship. Jeff is still afraid of screwing the group up and himself up. He’s back at Greendale because of the latter, and he doesn’t want to mess up the – arguably – best six relationships he has. That’s why addressing things like in “Asian Population Studies” was so difficult. To him, relationships are always complex. To Annie, it’s just the opposite – to her, relationships have to be black and white. You either want me or you don’t. What’s it gonna be? And in this instance, I think that Annie asked Rich out to prove her point – decisions don’t have to always have drawn out discussions preceding them. Sometimes, if you like someone, you should just go for it (which of course, for her, actually backfired). And in this situation, I’d like to think that neither was completely right. Sure, things are “complicated” for Jeff, but that doesn’t mean he can’t know how he feels about her. And yes, relationships can be simple, but Annie should also realize that sometimes you can’t just be put on the spot about your feelings.

Annie is more of an open book than Jeff, as evidenced by how she does choose to view the world. In “Paradigms of the Human Memory,” she sees the world clearly through a romantic eye, whereas Jeff has always been more cynical. And I don’t think that neither necessarily has to change in order to make a relationship work, because – back to my point earlier – I believe they start to bring out these qualities in one another. Not that Jeff makes Annie more cynical or that Annie causes Jeff to become like a romantic comedy’s leading man, but that they appreciate those aspects of one another.

I think that one of my absolute favorite episodes of the season for Jeff and Annie was “Intro to Political Science.” And the reason that I like this episode so much is that we really get the sense that these two characters care a lot about how the other perceives them. Annie doesn’t want to be seen as a “kid” or a little girl. And I don’t think that it’s with condescension that Jeff has called her a kid previously (and in this episode too). I think that it’s Jeff’s way of trying to distance himself from her. It makes him feel better, perhaps, to think of himself as an adult, and her as a child – in “English as a Second Language,” he admits that the reason he treated her like a child was because she had feelings. Perhaps that’s why Jeff continues to distance himself from her by referring to her as “kid” – maybe he just can’t come to terms with the fact that she is both an adult and has feelings. Or else I’m reading too much into this. Regardless, I loved this episode because we got to see Jeff and Annie compete against one another and it proved that – once again – Annie is capable of holding her own against Jeff. The conversation in the supply closet was a nice touch as well. Jeff could have easily dismissed Annie’s admission that she cares about what he thinks of her and said something completely Jeff Winger to get himself away from admitting anything involving caring. But he didn’t – he actually reciprocated. I think that is what we’d like to call character progress, folks.

And yes, I just spent the past three or so pages (roughly) discussing why I love two fictional characters together on a fictional television show. And Dan Harmon, or anyone else for that matter, if you have read even half of this, I congratulate you.

I will once again reiterate this fact: Community is a brilliant show, full of brilliant characters and intriguing pairings, Jeff and Annie included.

Bad News Bears (Or "A Case of the Mondays")

Everyone is entitled to have a case of the Mondays at some point, right?

Well today is mine.

Actually, last night truly began my fantastic start to this morning. You know how there is a moment where you lie awake in bed, wishing that you could fall asleep because you’re consciously aware of how early you have to get up the following morning? I’m always amazed by how this seems to happen every Sunday night to me (or at least it seems like it does), and how – no matter how much I try to turn my brain off and relax – I never can fall asleep at a reasonable hour.

So I stayed awake, numbing my mind with the newest episode of “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” and the last half of the movie “Bride Wars,” in sincere hope that those things would help lull me off to sleep. I had no such luck.

And when I settled myself onto my pillow, all I wanted to do was cry myself to sleep and have someone hold me. And yes, maybe that sounds pathetic (and maybe it is), but I didn’t care. I wanted arms to hold me and rock me and sing me lullabies.

I went to summer camp when I was in middle school, up in Pennsylvania. It was this awesome camp called Victory Valley (I actually just had to Google this place because I have so many memories of it). One night, we literally camped out. For the entire week we stayed in these cute little cabins, but on this particular night, our counselors took us out into these huge pavilion like structures that were high off the ground and we all camped out together (all of the girls, at least).

And I so clearly remember all of us clutching onto our glowsticks, sprawled out on our sleeping bags just listening to the sounds of the woods. Most of us couldn’t fall asleep, of course – for one thing, we were middle-school children who were wired to stay awake for as long as possible. But I think we were all just a little bit scared – scared that we were open and vulnerable, and if we all fell asleep then a bear could come and attack us (or worse: that the boys’ cabins could come and throw water balloons at us in our sleep).

So one of the counselors sang to us, very quietly, until we all lulled off to sleep. I can’t remember what she sang, but all I know is that it was comforting – falling asleep to the sound of someone’s voice, someone who was going to watch over you.

Maybe that’s why I associate singing someone to sleep with security and safety and peace. Who knows. All I know is that last night I wanted someone there to sing me something sweet.

And so far, this blog post has been less than philosophical. I apologize for that, because I really do want to write something substantial and poignant for people to read (or, because no one probably reads this anyway, for myself to go back and read when I need to).

But all of us have days where we would rather stay in bed, under our covers than face the world. And today is one of those days for me. I’m tired, stuff at work is broken that needs to be fixed because we have a deadline tomorrow, and I’m just mentally unprepared for it all. And I really need to try to be positive – to let others see that what gets them down won’t take me down as well. That I’m stronger than that. Like what Isaac talked about yesterday afternoon in his message: there is hope because my hope is not determined by things on this earth.

Days like today, that’s easier said than done.

But here’s to trusting. Here’s to believing that there are plans out there that I am only a tiny part of. Here’s to knowing that today is just one day, and that I can get through it. Here’s to not putting so much pressure on myself to be perfect, or to look perfect, or to act perfect all of the time. To just being the best possible version of myself that I can be and letting God fill in the gaps.

Here’s to a case of the Mondays.

At least there will always be Tuesday.

Letters (Or "Here's What I'll Never Say to You")

"We lay aside letters never to read them again, and at last we destroy them out of discretion, and so disappears the most beautiful, the most immediate breath of life, irrecoverable for ourselves and for others." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 So instead of writing a profound blog post today, I thought that I would write some letters. Letter-writing is cathartic, but perhaps it is most cathartic when you write letters to people that you never actually send. It gives you that emotional release without any of the repercussions. And so - today - I give you a few letters addressed to various individuals that I would never actually send:

I.

It seems appropriate to write this first letter to you. You were, after all, a huge part of my life for a few years. And now that I am older, and a little bit wiser, I can come to say - thank you. The fact that you completely broke my heart and my trust has made me the person that I am today. And for a while, I was really angry and bitter with you, and especially over what you did. I felt like you took my trust and - having lied to me for years - snapped it in half. But looking back, you actually made me stronger. You made me into someone who realized that forgiveness is an extremely powerful thing, and not always an easy one. I used to think that I was a very forgiving person - that I was the sort who would never grow bitter or hold grudges. But after what you did to me, I found my heart hardened. And perhaps a little bit of me will always feel that way, but I remember hearing that forgiveness is a process. You have to make a conscious effort to forgive that individual every time they pop into your mind. So I wanted to let you know that I forgive you. Despite the fact that you hurt me, I don't wish any ill thing to happen to you. I wish you well, and hope that you are. And, should by some chance we ever meet again in this life, I would smile and nod in your direction. And just know that's a huge step from where I came from a few years ago.

II.

Most of all, I want you to be happy. And I want your life to be happy. And it pains me to know that you're always in pain - it seems that if it's not physical, it's emotional, or spiritual. I wish I could understand what you're going through - how depression makes you feel, and how your joints ache at such a young age. I wish I could just make that all go away for you. I wish we could go to London together and study abroad and shop at little shops and eat and drink in pubs, and take train rides and write poems in Bryant Park. Honestly, if there's anyone in my life that I wish I could do all those things with, it'd be you. And it's funny because we didn't even really start out as close friends until later in life. But I think that it's amazing how close we've grown. And I know you're struggling with what to do with the rest of your life, but I know God has a plan and He'll work things out. And I'm always here for you.

III.

I was in love with you once and I can safely say that I am happy that you're happy. It's amazing to feel that, really. I'm actually kind of glad that you never felt the same way. In the words of Elizabeth Swan: "It would have never worked between us." True words.

IV.

It's been almost ten years, and you're still the only person who can make me laugh as hard as you do. I love being around you, and I love that you are always there for me. And I love that we can be silly and crazy and have random adventures. I wish your home life was better for you, or that you could get rid of the dysfunctionality of it somehow. I wish I could help. But I love you, profusely. And you're my best friend. And you always will be. And someday, you'll get to be in your first American wedding, and I'll get to be in my first (and probably only) Indian one. :)

V.

I just don't even know what to say to you. I'm not sure that I even know who you are anymore. I think that I did, maybe. Or maybe I just convinced myself of who you were - maybe I just constructed a model you in my mind, and saw you through that lens. The thing about you is that you're unpredictable. So maybe someday we can be friends, who knows. But as for right now, I'm still on my guard - my walls are up, because I don't know what you want or who you really are. And that scares me.

VI.

How did we all fall apart like this? Sweetie, you're so controlling. You can't make people do things they don't want to do. You can't shut people out because they disagree with you. And you sure as heck cannot try and glue something together that has already fallen apart. Because it's the truth - whether you want to admit it or not. We all fell apart. We're not the same people that we were in high school, and thank God for that. We've grown up, and moved on. And though we all love each other in the kind of way that makes us nostalgic, we'll never actually be those people again. And it kind of is sad to me that you want us to hold on so that you can feel better. I understand why you want control - your life hasn't exactly been sunshine and rainbows the past few years. And I would never want to be in your shoes. You've gone through some rough things, and you know that you had (and still have) our support. But don't resort to high school - don't threaten us, don't cause petty arguments. I love you, of course, but sometimes you make me frustrated. Just an FYI.

VII.

Is it weird that sometimes I wonder what would have happened if - three years ago - I had ended up with you instead of him? I hope you're doing well. Because you're actually someone who I really really liked, and who kind of miss to this day. And who I regret deleting off of my Facebook friends.

VIII.

It's kind of weird that you're dating her. And not just because I - along with every other single girl I know - had a crush on you. It's just...weird. But I hope you're happy. Because I really do enjoy seeing you happy.

VIV.

I'm trying to think of why we aren't friends anymore, and I don't know the answer. You and I used to be pretty close - we used to live right down the hall from one another, for goodness' sake. But we moved back home, our lives changed, and we started up new colleges. And I thought that we would still stay close - you are such a strong, wonderful woman of God. But lately... I feel like there's this huge distance between us, even though we live 15 minutes or so apart. It's funny, because we'll say that "we should really get coffee sometime." But we never do. Why is that? Has our friendship become just that shallow?

X.

This is a letter to all of you, and it's no secret how much I love you guys. When I transferred, I never thought that I would find a group that I connected with as much as I did. We're sisters, but we've become a family. And I want to cry thinking about how much I miss seeing each and every one of you from week to week. But we're forever bonded, so I guess that's okay.

Rejection (Or "Why Does It Feel Like I Keep Failing?")

"Three failures denote uncommon strength. A weakling has not enough grit to fail thrice."

- Minna Thomas Antrim

Well, I've finally returned to the realm of blogging. It only took three months, right? So - with the inspirational quote above - I write my first back-to-blog post about rejection, and feeling like a failure.

I am a writer. It's no surprise to anyone who has ever read this (which I am still convinced is just Jaime, or actually - recently! - I had the sincere honor of having Dan Harmon read my blog post about his show Community. So thank you for that, Dan!) that I am someone who loves to write, and who thrives on writing. And not to toot my own horn or anything, but I have had my work published in a few literary journals, and it has definitely been quite an exciting experience.

However, I can honestly say that I have had my work rejected much more than I have had it accepted. And though I know that this is part of the writing process, sometimes it discourages me. I read my  poems and short stories, and when I finally feel like they are edited enough to be published, I submit them. And I feel a sense of pride when I e-mail those attachments. No, they are not perfect pieces. There is no such thing as a perfect poem or a perfect story. But I feel like they are complete - ready. Then, they are - nine times out of ten - rejected.

I had a professor in college once - Professor David Athey, who is to this day my favorite college professor - who told our Creative Writing and Publishing workshop that for every 100 pieces you submit, you will usually get 1 acceptance. Perhaps that is a fairly accurate estimate (or at least it feels like it is an accurate estimate). But when you open your inbox, and your heart flutters at the sight of a response e-mail from that journal that you submitted to, and then you open it only to find a non-personalized rejection letter...well, sometimes you get just a little bit bummed out.

That quote of the day above is pretty encouraging though, is it not? I think that so many times we take rejections personally. We think that someone has a vendetta against us - against our style of writing or our use of images or our way of storytelling. And perhaps, yes, there may be a grain of truth in there. Perhaps the way that we tell a story is not what they are looking for. But in order to succeed in writing - or really anything in life - I believe that we have to learn to not take rejection personally. Instead of looking at being rejected by someone (be it friend, job, etc.) as a failure, we should really begin to look at it as a stepping stone.

Rejection does not denote failure, as much as I sometimes like to believe it does. Instead, failure is determined by how you respond to rejection. Do you pick yourself back up and work harder to improve that which was rejected? Because - let's be honest - if something is rejected for any kind of position, chances are that it is not at the very best it could possibly be. I read poems and stories that I submitted years ago, and go back and tweak them. Why? Because - at the time - I had this rose-colored view of my work. When you read your work the moment that you write it, it seems perfect, does it not? My challenge would be to let the piece (whatever it is) ferment on your computer, or in your home for a while - let's say a week, for starters. Then go back and review. The majority of the time, you'll find that "perfect" piece you love so much isn't quite as perfect as you had remembered it to be.

(And well, I will return for another blog entry about revisions and my difficulties with them. But that's for another time.)

I think the true determining factor of an artist is not hinged on how many places your work has been submitted. Sure, it's nice to construct cover letters with four or five different places of reference. Does it feel good to say that you are "published"? Of course it does. But the true artist does not focus on what has been accepted, but rather what has been rejected. Because when you look at what hasn't worked, only then can you improve and learn to create something that does.

Ode to High School "Love" (Or "That Post About That Guy and My Life Thereafter")

So, I was curious today. And his name popped into my mind, so - being at a job where I am basically at a computer 24/7 - I decided to Google him. And of course, I got links to his existential ramblings and overall dorky-ness. What still, to this very day, baffles me so much is how I was so crazy about him in high school.

I never dated this guy. Our relationship started out as friends. He transferred to my high school from a private Christian grade school, along with a lot of others who I would grow to become friends with. I became part of his circle of friends, really around my freshman year of high school. (It wouldn't be until my sophomore year that I would meet a woman I now consider to be one of my closest friends.) And I distinctly remember being at his surprise birthday party that year (we tried to throw him another one a few years later... we should have known he'd figure it out), where I met a girl who I was quasi-acquaintances with (my best friend at the time was one of her best friends). And I remember that moment so clearly, because she was looking across the room at him and said: "Isn't he cute?"

And to be honest, up until that point in time, I hadn't thought of him in any other way than just a friend. A buddy. But after that moment, I began to develop a little crush on him. (Sidenote: I actually didn't like the girl who would become my future close friend at first because she ended up dating him for a little bit.) But sophomore and junior year is where I really grew to fall in love with him. And it was much like The Holiday, where he knew of my existence, but never knew that I cared about him that way, and certainly didn't reciprocate. So it was hard, because everyone in our group of friends seemingly had a crush on him. And he dated significantly throughout high school.

I'm a hopeless romantic. Have we mentioned that? An integral part of this nonexistent love story (from his end, at least) involves junior year and our high school Homecoming dance. My  best friend at the time, Lauren, knew that I really liked this guy (I think everyone except him knew this!). And this guy had a best friend, Wesley. So Lauren went over - being the fearless, brave soul that she is - and told the guy that I liked that if a slow song came on again, he should ask me to dance. Well, lo and behold - a slow song came on, and we danced. Did I mention that it had rained for some of the night? And that during that point it was sprinkling? And that he twirled me?

(Perhaps this guy really isn't as intelligent as I give him credit for...)

Needless to say, my crush only intensified. I don't remember how, exactly, but word got out to him that I had feelings for him. And he confronted me, before school. I still tell my close girl friends in our "group" that - for the life of me - I cannot remember what he said, exactly. I can't even recall my reaction. All I know is that he broke my heart, and perhaps blocking out the memory of it is best. I don't know what it was about him that was so attractive to me. And I don't say that in a mean-spirited manner, or anything. To this day, I am just a bit baffled. Why do we fall so in love with people who we might as well be invisible to? Is this just a curse for us women, brought on by the endless stream of romantic movies that we allow ourselves to watch? Could we really ever prevent that "unrequited love" from hurting as much as it does?

Because that's what it always was - unrequited. He never cared about me more than I cared about him. And in a way, I think that my lack of a relationship with him taught me more than a relationship ever could have. He's a good guy, but these days, he doesn't speak to me. And I don't speak to him. Which is odd, you know? For a tight-knit group of friends, we've all kind of hit the iceberg and splintered off into our own little paths. Some of us don't live around here anymore. I think that others of us learned to hold on tighter to friends who we are moving along with. That's kind of how I feel with my close friend - we're the two who are holding on, keeping each other afloat, and moving on. Not away, perhaps. But just on.

So that unrequited love story doesn't end in bitterness, though. But it's funny how feelings sneak up when you least expect them to. During my senior year of high school I developed a (unrequited, yet less severe) crush on another friend of mine. And the funny thing is that I thought I was completely over the guy I had been in love with for three years. Funny though - we were standing next to one another during prom, dancing to a fast song. And suddenly a slow song came on, and he just grabbed my hand and we started dancing. And in that moment, the cheesy butterflies that I thought had died resurfaced. Only for a moment, but they were still there.

My friendship with him taught me a lot. I'll give him that, and I can honestly say that I don't feel those butterflies anymore - I haven't for almost five years. And as I sit here, I can only smile and wonder exactly who it was that I fell in love with way back then. I don't know that kid anymore, but from what I remember, he was pretty special.

Community (Or "No, Not the Television Show, Silly")

 We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.

- Lucretius

Good morning friends. (I say friends, but in actuality, I think only Jaime really reads this..) Today my blog post will focus on this awesome quote that I discovered today. I think that what I love so much about this particular quote is that it illustrates the importance of building community with one another. And I think that in our time period, one of the biggest downfalls of our society is that when we face issues, instead of going to others and opening up to them about our problems, we shut ourselves off. And in doing so, we isolate ourselves from the very people we need.

I think that we do this because of our prideful nature. We don't want people to see our flaws. There's a Paul Laurence Dunbar poem called "We Wear the Mask," and it truly sums up this point:

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
    It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
    This debt we pay to human guile;
    With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
    And mouth with myriad subtleties.
    Why should the world be over-wise,
    In counting all our tears and sighs?
    Nay, let them only see us, while
            We wear the mask.
    We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
    To thee from tortured souls arise.
    We sing, but oh the clay is vile
    Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
    But let the world dream otherwise,
            We wear the mask!

So I have to wonder, exactly: what would our society look like if we were all transparent, all the time? What if we could see one another - truly see them? If nothing was hidden, if there were no secrets and shames and guilt and insecurity, what kind of a world would that be?

My answer, simply, is that it would be a world full of community. We would see people help one another, genuinely. Empathy and sincerity would be the core of our very existence. We wouldn't be ashamed of our failures or our pitfalls. We wouldn't think "If they only knew the true me, they would run the other way," because people would be running to us with outstretched arms - friends, family members, and complete strangers would form communities of support.

As human beings, we desperately need one another. We were not created to exist in solitude. We need relationships, and acceptance, and love. We can survive on our own, sure, but is that really life? Or is it merely existing? We need to have others around when we break down to let us know that we are not alone in this world. Tragically, I believe that this is why so many suicides occur - there is a desperation, a need for another "angel" to fly alongside someone and carry them. But we fail to do so, sometimes. We fail to fly alongside those who need us the most.

So here is my challenge today: someone in your life needs you, right now. Be that angel to them, and embrace them. Because they can't do it alone, and - for that matter - neither can you.

Original Thoughts (Or "How to Become Brilliant Without Even Trying")

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.

- C.S. Lewis

Let me introduce you to one of my all-time favorite quotes. Not only was C.S. Lewis a theological genius, and a fantastic writer, but he also has some very quotable sayings, and this is probably one of the best (in my opinion). I write to you today as an editor. Some of these posts recently have addressed writers such as myself - how we think, how we act, etc. But this time, I am writing from the editor within me. And I feel like today's post is pertinent because a lot of writers (including myself) struggle with coming up with brilliant plots for stories. If I could only get something unique, we think, then the rest will just come to me. I won't start a novel, for instance, because I feel like I have nothing to write about. I don't have any great ideas, or amazing plot twists sitting at my desk, handy. But what if you don't really have to be "original"? What if trying too hard to become original actually causes you to stumble, not advance, in your writing?

The reason that I love the above quote is because of the sheer simplicity of his advice. There are dozens of books out there devoted to us writers - usually by writers, for writers. There's books about how to write the next great American novel, about how to get your novel published before you die, about how to write great poems, etc. And we gravitate toward these sort of books. Every day on my lunch break, I drive five or ten minutes to Borders. I'm at a desk all day, so it's nice to get up and walk around. And what better place to do so than a book store?

One tiny section caught my eye on my first day of perusal. I turned a corner and found myself staring at a section of books under the heading "Getting Published." Naturally, this intrigued me, and I found a few dozen books much like the ones that I just mentioned above. The books have great exercises in them (one book was focused solely on dreams and writing based off of those) in order to stimulate inspiration (....remember that blog entry?) for writers or would-be writers.

But Lewis' advice takes up only a few lines, and I find it more helpful than all of the books on those shelves. His suggestion for us is to simply tell the truth. Tell a story, no matter how many times you think you have heard the story before. I've heard it said before that all of the possible plot lines in the world have already been used up. It's just up to writers to find ways to tweak those that already exist. And when you think about it, this is accurate (think about how many rom-coms out there have nearly the same premise). So perhaps writing is not so much about being original as it is about being truthful.

Back to my original focus: I write today from an editor's point-of-view, because I have worked for a few literary journals in my time and I tend to see a common thread among submissions that I reject. They all try too hard to be something they're not. Nearly all of the poems that I reject are not bad poems, per se. They're just not honest enough. The poet either doesn't have a grasp on the vocabulary that they could have a grasp on, or they put too much of themselves into their work (I don't know how many more poems about broken hearts I can read...). The poems and short stories that stand out to me are ones in which narrators observe - they honestly portray the world (for better or for worse).

As Lewis notes - when you do this, you won't think that it is anything special. To you, dear writer, this may sound absurdly simplistic and a little bit silly. Write the truth? That's all? Isn't it though? Isn't that what life is all about - just writing it as it happens? Not trying to be profound or meaningful. But in that truth, there is meaning. And there is genius.

And it may sound simple, but you'll end up writing better if you stop trying to be something you are not.

The Girl In the Mirror (Or "That Blog Post About Self-Esteem")

Let us be grateful to the mirror for revealing to us our appearance only.

- Samuel Butler

I really love that quote. I am seriously contemplating writing it down and posting it on my mirror so that I can look at it daily. Why is that quote so important (especially to me, as a woman)? I think that it is a necessary reminder that who you are is not dictated by what you look like - for better or for worse.

I've met quite a few beautiful people in my time. (Listen to me, I sound like I'm a grandmother...) I've also met people who - by worldly standards - are nothing special. They're cute, perhaps, but not stunning or gorgeous. (I, myself, tend to fall into this category). And being someone who is average in appearance isn't a bad thing - the majority of the women in this country do not possess supermodel bodies or anything like that. Most of us live our lives out daily, having good days (where we look at the woman in the mirror and smile with satisfaction) and bad days (where we don't even want to look at ourselves out of fear or discontent).

But isn't it a comfort - no, a sheer joy - to know that what we look like is not who we are? Could you imagine what the world would be like if that were true? Picture, for a moment, that your personality, your heart, your compassion, and all of the things we constitute as "inner-beauty" were to manifest themselves on your exterior body. What would you look like? What would the most physically beautiful person be like? It is an interesting thought.

I teach 8th grade girls on Sunday mornings. I've taught them since they were in 6th grade and now they are getting ready to go into high school. In my opinion, the worst is almost over. Middle school was the most awkward and awful three years of my life. And I know it was this way for a lot of women out there (and possibly men too), mainly because there was such an extreme emphasis placed on "fitting in" and "being cool" (what does that even mean?) Middle school was the breeding ground for insecurities - I fell prey to a lot of these and trust me when I say that I am not an expert or master of self-esteem. I still have days where I just look at myself in the mirror and shake my head. And I think that a part of growing up is recognizing that quote above - who you are in the mirror is not who you truly are. It may seem like it. It may seem like the only thing people care about is personal appearances and clothes and make-up. (And really, a lot of our society is programmed in that way).

But take heart, friends. What you look like in the mirror is not really who you are on the inside. When people look back on your life, they will not remember the bad hair day you had last week, or the fact that you wore an outdated skirt to the Christmas party. They'll remember how you offered them a ride home when their car broke down, or how you helped them move into their new apartment.

At the end of the day, the mirror is just a shadow of who you are - not a reflection.

Happy Writing versus Unhappy Writing (Or "The Biggest Difference in the World")

The best creative work is never done when one is unhappy.

—Albert Einstein

Albert Einstein was known to be brilliant in science. He was extremely intelligent and is considered to be the father of modern physics. But, Mr. Einstein, I must disagree with you on one account. You see, I don't - not even for a second - believe that quote above.

This blog entry is for you writers out there. Yes, I'm talking to you - the ones hunched over your laptops at this very moment waiting for a novel idea to strike (Jaime, I know you're out there...!). I'm talking to the people who consider writing more than a hobby or even a profession. I'm speaking to those who crave to write. Who find writing about as essential as food or drink. To those people I will ask this - when do you write best: when you are happy or unhappy?

Now, notice that I didn't say "sad." Oh, sure, I believe that a lot of great novels or poems can stem from sorrow. (Certainly, we have found that a lot of great songs can come from that). But I am talking not about the emotion of being sad or down or blue, but rather the state of being unhappy. Discontent. Wandering. Where do your greatest phrases, your strongest characters, and your beautiful settings originate?

I'll give you my answer. Quite simply, my best work occurs when I am unhappy. And by unhappy, I do not (like I stated before) mean that I am in a constant state of wallowing depression. I don't close my curtains to block out sunlight and curl up in my bed with a pen and paper all day. My strongest writing, I have found, occurs not when I am giddy and happy, but when I am in lack or want. My high school AP Literature teacher, Ms. Charlotte Roberts (who was the greatest teacher I have ever had) explained this to us once. In the beginning of our first semester, we all had examined our book list in dismay - there were no good books on there. And by good, we meant "feel-good." Every book that we read during that semester (and every poem and short story, truly) could be deemed "depressing" or, at the very least, "tragic." Ms. Roberts told us that if we were looking for beach-read worthy books, we would not find them in her class. And I think that is the point in which I realized that not a lot of classics (or books labeled "great") contain happy endings. Redemptive, sure. But happy?

Later in the semester, Ms. Roberts and our class had a discussion about this. When we asked why seemingly every book in our semester was depressing, she asked us something poignant. She asked when we felt we wrote the best: when everything in the world was going right, or when we were upset. We all thought about this as she proceeded. When we are happy, she explained, we don't want to write. We would much rather be at the beach, or at a party, or with our boyfriends/girlfriends. Forget about staying inside by a computer - we're happy. We're out and living and enjoying life. And when we try to write in those states, usually everything that we turn out is...well, crap. When we are unhappy or upset, we tend to write our best. And I've found her advice to be true. As a challenge, on an amazing day when the sun is out and it's beach weather and your boyfriend just surprises you with a picnic, try to then go home and write a poem. You'll find that it sounds remarkably Hallmark - cheesy and fluffy. Or else, you may not even be able to write at all.

Now, clearly I cannot speak for every writer, but I find that when life has hit a snag, or when there is rain (both physically or metaphorically), I write some of the phrases, poems, or characters that I am most proud of. So think about that as you  go throughout your day today. And comment below, if you wish, letting me know what you think - do you write better when you are happy or unhappy?

Motivational (Tues)day (Or "What I Should Possess...But Don't")

In college, I was a part of this leadership society on campus. I went to the required meetings and video lectures in order to obtain membership. I could have gotten honor cords at graduation...but I was too lazy and/or cheap to purchase them. At any rate, every Monday, this society would send out an e-mail titled "Motivational Mondays." It would be a snippet of something to motivate or encourage us throughout the day.

I suppose this is less of a "Motivational (Tues)day" than those e-mails were, though. I'm writing today wondering exactly what has happened to motivation in our society. Or really, what has happened to motivation in my life? Do you remember when you were a child, how you'd get a puzzle and sit on the floor, cross-legged and biting your tongue, just because you were determined to finish? Sometimes I wonder what happened to those children - do they still exist within us? Or have we simply "outgrown" motivation?

I tend to learn towards the belief that it's not that we, as individuals, are unmotivated. I think that our lack of drive and dedication stems from the instant society in which we live. When commercials display the latest "high-speed" Internet connection, or microwavable dinners declare that they now "cook in less time"... I tend to wonder exactly what our lives have become. Have we substituted instant gratification for actual long-term benefits?

And this is why I think so many of us struggle with being motivated - why there are literally sections of bookstores devoted to self-help agendas. Patience and motivation go hand-in-hand: you cannot be motivated if you expect that benefits will automatically follow. You will only end up disappointed and bitter. Instead, motivation should stem from patience - we should have motivation because we know that we may not see our gain for a long period of time, but that it will be worth our effort when we do. And really, that's what motivation requires - effort. No one will sit beside your bed and encourage you to wake up every morning. Motivation is knowing that the path is rough, but that there is something worth getting to.

So strive to be motivated, in whatever you do in life. Work at it, because with an instant gratification mentality like our society dictates, it will not be easy. But it will be worth it.

Inspiration (Or "That Thing That Happens Only When It's Inconvenient, and Never When You Truly Want It")

It's kind of ironic to me, as a writer, that the only time I seem to find inspiration to write is the time that it is most inconvenient to do so. And then there are days like today - when I am sitting at work, perusing through PowerPoint presentations - where I really want to write. I legitimately crave to write something wonderful - a poem, a short story...even a brilliant phrase would suffice.

And yet, here I sit. Empty. Blank.

Why is inspiration so difficult to come by? Or rather, why is it so difficult to catch, to find, when you are seeking it out? Shouldn't life operate on a system of "If you want it and work for it, you'll get it"? I think it would be an interesting (and topsy-turvy) world if it did. But what if inspiration was like that? Creativity? Brilliance?

What if every time I truly desired to write something beautiful, I did? I don't think that I could ever stop myself, then, from doing anything other than writing. Who would have time for sleeping or eating or spending time with family and friends? Who would need to read novels or watch movies when you were writing brilliance of your own?

So perhaps life is better on this system: the never-ending double-edge sword for those of us who write. The painful reality that what we want isn't always what we get. Or maybe that what we want is what we get - just at a time that it is needed.

I think that's one of those deep life lessons that you have to learn daily - sometimes life just doesn't happen when you want it to happen. Inspiration doesn't occur when you sit around and wait for it. It happens when you are out: living, doing, experiencing life at its fullest. It happens when you meet someone who you never expected to meet. It happens in places that you randomly ended up, on days that are either too perfect or too awful. It happens when you fall in love, get your heart broken, and swear you'll never find the right person. It happens when you say and do all the right things, and all the wrong things.

Funny. Most of us writers end up stowed away in our rooms, super-glued to our computer screens, just waiting for that cosmic wave of inspiration to hit us. We want genius plotlines, intriguing characters, and perfect endings. But we don't actually do anything about it. We just wait. And wait. And we get frustrated because we end up sitting for three hours, staring as the cursor just keeps flickering.

So, here's what I propose (to myself and every other would-be writer out there): let's not sit and wait for inspiration. Let's live our lives and enjoy the company, and know that - when it feels like joining us - inspiration will catch up eventually.

I Stopped Believin'... (Or "How NBC's 'Community' Replaced 'Glee' as My Favorite Television Show")

Let me start off by saying: "Hello. Welcome to the world of a post-grad English major."

Having recently (and by recent, I mean yesterday) graduated from college, I thought that it was about time that I actually produced some original ramblings and musings via the Internet. It's nothing extremely new for me - I had a blog when I was in high school - but it's something that I've lost throughout the years. And now, I feel like there are often so many thoughts within my head that need to be put into words and published, despite how miniscule they may seem to everyone else. Because honestly, every little musing or rambling that you find in here is a piece of me and a part of my thought process. And someday, I'd like to look back and read through them.

And now, onto my first post. Glee versus Community.

I'll begin by explaining that up until recently (about a semester or so ago), Glee was my favorite show on television. I had followed what I dubbed the "little show that could" from its humble origins. In the pilot episode, I had no idea who any of the cast members were (save the obvious Jane Lynch and Lea Michele, whom I had seen in Spring Awakening). And I thought it was an amazing concept for a show and one that would either a) take off like nobody's business (see: present), or b) flop like nobody's business.

Evidently, we know what happened - Glee became a mega-hit, followed up by concert tours and - from what I hear as of recently - 3D movies. People gravitated to it, and show follwers dubbed themselves "Gleeks." (I still consider myself a Gleek, folks. Don't be dismayed).

And inherently, there's nothing extremely wrong with Glee as a television show. It's quirky and funny and feel-good and sad (and that's all in the same episode). But I've come to realize that - despite its numerous awards - there's something missing. And I think that Ryan Murphy is a brilliant producer and creator, but it is insanely obvious that he projected himself into the character of Kurt. And, you know, as a writer that kind of irks me a bit. As much as I want to make myself into a character, and give her all of the experiences and loves and adventures I never got to have, I just couldn't do it. As a writer, I just can't bring myself to do that.

Now, obviously fans of the show either a) have no knowledge of the fact that Kurt is really Ryan 2.0, or b) simply don't care. I love Kurt as a character. I adore Chris Colfer. But I've picked up on that fact. Murphy's other issue - the one that I've noticed at least, and I know shows of the fandom have quipped about - is that he plays extremely to the fans. There's a difference between knowing what your fanbase wants (sometimes giving it to them and sometimes not - see: Dan Harmon), and catering to what your fanbase wants. Catering causes erraticisms (if that's not a word, I just made it up!) within the context of the show. That's why in Glee you have characters who jump from boyfriend to girlfriend faster than you can sing the chorus of a Journey song. The characters themselves become erratic also: their wants and developments are overshadowed by the fans' wants. That produces a character like Quinn who is on-and-off redemptive from week to week.

Like I said earlier though, there's nothing inherently wrong with Glee - I still adore the show. I think that I've just realized that other brilliant shows (see: Community) are being overshadowed.

So let's talk about my favorite show on television, then. Community is what people have branded as a "sleeper" hit - it truly is the "little show that can." Headed by a brilliant ensemble cast that includes the oh-so handsome and talented Joel McHale (who everyone should know from E!'s "The Soup") and the legendary Chevy Chase, this comedy revolves around the fictional Greendale Community College, where disbarred ex-lawyer Jeff Winger (McHale) has to attend in order to get his Bachelor's degree...or one that isn't from Colombia, at least.

When I tell people about this show, the first thing I say is "it's about a study group who attends a community college...but it is so much more than that!" Indeed, the show really is. With every other episode being an homage to a movie ("Basic Rocket Science": "Apollo 13") or a genre of movie ("A Fistful of Painballs": spaghetti Western), Community is easily the most entertaining 20-some minutes of television. What is so brilliant about this show is that producer Dan Harmon, and his amazing team of writers, knows what works and what doesn't work with the fans. Unlike Glee, which I feel over-caters to fans, Community silently applauds and thanks the fans for their involvement in the sitcom. This is the only show on television, folks, who would slip in Easter eggs (like the ticker in "Intro to Political Science," or the background Abed storyline in "The Pyschology of Letting Go"), or even personalized thank-you notes (the replicated Jeff/Annie fanvid in "Paradigms of the Human Memory"). Community is aware of its small-but-mighty fanbase, and it is genuinely appreciative of it. And for that, Dan Harmon, we appreciate you.

The wit and humor in Community is insanely impressive to me - there will literally be episodes that I live-tweet (@notajenny, in case you were curious) where I simply cannot tweet jokes fast enough (this is a lot of the times due to the hilarious delivery of Donald Glover and his ad-libs). But aside from wit and strong, consistent writing (these writers really pay attention to consistency in characters and also in general), this show has heart. Episodes like their claymation Christmas special ("Abed's Uncontrollable Christmas") are evidence of this.

And even beyond that, I dare anyone to find a stronger ensemble cast on television. Each actor and actress brings so much to their characters. I like that, for a show about a community college, each character is more than merely a shell or caricature of someone you  might see. Even the background characters (Fat Neil, Leonard, Starburns, Vicki, Garrett, etc.) are developed! Personally, my favorite character on this show is the sometimes-neurotic, youngest member of the study group, Annie Edison. And perhaps the reason I adore Annie so much is because I can relate to her the most out of the study group. And while I unashamedly ship Jeff/Annie, I think that people automatically assume "Oh, you like Jeff/Annie? That must mean you hate Britta." But that's simply not true. I love Britta and I think that Gillian Jacobs does such a brilliant job at portraying her. Episodes like "The Science of Illusion" and "Applied Anthropology and Culinary Arts" just solidify my love for her. She's so contradictory in what she believes and why she believes it, and I think that a lot of the times she's jaded to the point that she becomes a bit hardened and embittered, but she has so much heart that it's hard to not love her. And Annie, to me, is just the group's moral center (and definitely Jeff's, as evidenced in "A Fistful of Paintballs" and "Basic Geneology.")

And, well, I'll just save a post for Jeff/Annie and why I love them together another day.

But basically, if you're not watching NBC's Community, you truly should. It's a brilliant, smart, witty comedy full of heart and wonderful writing. Each episode, I sit and watch with my bff Jaime (who actually lives in New York, so we watch together in spirit), and we constantly wonder how the show could top itself. Yet, every week, every episode, it manages to exceed our expectations by miles.

And that, my friends, is the trait of a genius show.