Okay, so I’m glad you’re not here to watch me ugly sob because that’s what I did for most of the A.A.R.M. episode.
As much as I complain about the newer seasons of The Office, and all of the weird plot points they dropped (like Brian The Sound Guy loving Pam?!), I can’t reiterate enough how much this show changed my life.
It’s not because Jim and Pam were the first people I ever fully “shipped,” though that had a lot to do with my love of the show and why season 2 is my favorite (The Christmas episode and the Booze Cruise, YOU GUYS!!!!!), but because of the things that it added to my life.
Mark introduced me to this show once when we were sending messages back and forth on MySpace while I was in college. He said I would love it. Season 2 had just ended on TV and I downloaded it off of Kazaa (OMG) and went all the way through to Casino Night and cried like a small baby. Everything about the show was perfect to me at the time. I got my roommate Jess into it and we started to have Season 3 parties with food from previous episodes (Chunkies, Lemoñade, etc.) where we met new and awesome people who also were obsessed. This was my first comedy community. Thursday nights at 8pm, my room, Phelan Hall, third floor.
After I rewatched and rewatched every episode a BAZILLION times, this feeling in my gut started up and it hasn’t gone away since. This show is the reason I left USF. This show is the reason I started to do comedy. This show is the reason I applied to NYU and got into Tisch. I didn’t care about being a movie star or a famous stand up comedian. I wanted to be in an ensemble comedy. I just knew I was funny and that I could add something to a group like this. After flying into NYC to do an interview at Tisch, I sat in a little room and told some admissions lady that I never saw again how much The Office meant to me and how I wanted to learn how to write, how to act, how to support, how to feel feelings and make others feel feelings because of this show on NBC that not a lot of people were watching at the time.
This show is the reason I write and the reason I study comedy. This show is the reason why I believe that I can find a Jim or Holly of my own. And it’s over! After 9 years of being obsessed with it, and fighting with myself to keep going when I thought it was too bad to keep going, and hoping that Jim and Pam break up, and switching back to happily sobbing because they did end up together after all (ORIGINAL OTP).
This show is the reason why I left everything I knew so that I could learn how to do this too. I’m on my way now, and I feel so grateful.
I feel the same exact way, Nadia. Except you are the one who introduced me Sophomore year, and basically changed EVERYTHING. So thanks girl. This show has taught me a whole heck of a lot of things and I’m crazy grateful.
- person: so do you watch any tv shows?
- me: are you sure you're ready for this conversation
If I should have a daughter…instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”
She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry, so the first time she realizes that Wonder-woman isn’t coming, I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I’ve tried.
And “Baby,” I’ll tell her “don’t keep your nose up in the air like that, I know that trick, you’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else, find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”
But I know that she will anyway, so instead I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.
I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind. Because that’s how my mom taught me. That there’ll be days like this, “there’ll be days like this” my momma said, when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises. When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you wanna save are the ones standing on your cape. When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you,” ‘cause there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.
You will put the “wind” in win some lose some, you will put the “star” in starting over and over, and no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting I am pretty damn naive but I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
“Baby,” I’ll tell her “remember your mama is a worrier but your papa is a warrior and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.”
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.
There once was a girl from New York
who fell head over heels for a dork.
Turned out he was gay,
she should have known anyway,
he did listen to a lot of Bjork.
There once was a girl from the city,
she was really quite nice and quite pretty.
But she fell for this guy
how he did make her cry,
now she spends all her time feeling shitty.
There once was a girl from Manhattan
who agreed to go out with some hot men.
Oh she did what she pleased
how she flirted and teased
She decided she’s better without them.
There once was a girl on a train
Out the window she looked at the rain.
Along came a fella
how he made her feel bella
She’s back to herself once again.
I am seriously so proud of the blog Taylor and I are running. Ch-ch-check us out.
I just…I just…LOVE HISTORY SO MUCH AND I WANT TO LEARN IT ALL FOREVER.