I Feel Too Young, I Can't Lie On My Bed Without Thinking I Was Wrong, But When This Feeling Calls This World Becomes Another

--"Too Young", Phoenix

It's not secret that I was an admirer of Garden State when it came out. I felt I could relate to the issues brought up in the story seeing as the characters were about the same age as me at the time. I also went on in length how I thought Natalie Portman's character was the end-all be-all of greatest film girlfriends. To me, at the time, it was the perfect movie and one I believed I would hold in high esteem for a long time coming.

Lost in translation (ha) from then till now is how other movies I saw during the same approximate period I thought were good, but weren't going be pieces I would consider watching over and over again. In simpler terms, I thought Garden State would become one of my all-time classics and the rest of them would fade into obscurity. Included among these other films was a little film called Lost in Translation. At the time I thought it was good, but not great. I thought it was entertaining, dramatic at points, but ultimately something I didn't believe I could endure watching time and time again. The characters felt too distant from what I was going through. Yes, I felt isolated and lonely like them--but their sense of the feeling and how they handled it seemed miles away from my experience. The whole story just felt like it could never happen to me in that fashion. That's why I wrote it off. That's why I didn't think I'd be talking about eight years later.

I was watching Lost in Translation yesterday--well, a piece of it. It was probably the twentieth time I've seen it since that first time I saw it in the theaters. I'm here to admit that it still holds up. I still feel just as moved as I did that first time. Meanwhile, I can't even remember the last time I wanted to see Garden State. It's not that I believe it suddenly transformed into a bad movie. It's merely that all the problems that I thought I could relate to in that film seem beneath me, behind me. They all seem like concerns that I had in my twenties, my post-college days. Now it's like those kinds of questions never creep into my head, whereas the sense of being adrift in a sea of people like Bob and Charlotte never quite goes away and never is a problem anyone else has ever come up with a lasting solution to. I'm afraid to admit it, but I identify more with the sense of being held in place by life than life dealing you a bum hand. For me it's a much worse fate to be stuck in the middle than have your life seem to be all bad luck.

Maybe it's a sign I'm getting older, that bad news would almost seem preferable to no news. But I'm thinking why I seem so hung-up on Lost in Translation and not Garden State is that you can't always predict who or what can fill your heart. The people and experiences you hope will complete you are often the ones that fall considerably short. Meanwhile, the people and experience you never meant to let in, the ones you were sure weren't built to last often surprise you.

That's kind of like the movie too. Life isn't about planning who you're going to find comfort in, it's about finding comfort in the person you just happen to stumble upon. You can't predict human kindness, you can't plot emotional connections. It's kind of like Toby always says. Don't postpone joy. If you find it or if it finds you, just run with it. Don't hold out for something better. Take comfort in who or what you can when you can.

Because sometimes it's the movie you liked, but didn't love, at first can turn out to be the one that stays with you for your whole life. And sometimes the person you found annoying and clingy can turn out to be someone you still find annoying and clingy (but in a good way) some eighteen years later.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Ooh, I Lost My Sense Of Passion And Direction, To Protect Myself From Hurting And Despair, Listen To My Heart, My Soul Is Aching

--"Heart of Stone", Erasure

There comes that moment where your heart is all aflutter and you convince yourself that the person you're sitting next to could be the one. At least that's the way it is with me. I exchange words, trade meaningful glances, and hope that my best is good enough to convince the person looking back at me that I'm worth keeping in their life. And when the night ends I'm left with the idea that I've done the impossible, that I've managed to secure a foothold in their life.

I'm a romantic idealist. It's in my nature to believe that a universal truth like love does exist, that it is attainable. That's why whenever the spark of hope is seen I almost always immediately try fanning it into the flames of passion. I'm complicit in my own bid for failure. I raise the stakes when the game at hand, at first, is friendly. I invest meaning into every moment, lacing every word and every gesture with hidden depths and subtle nuances that probably were never there in the first place. Every time her arm brushes against mine, every couple of seconds her eyes spend looking into mine, I take as a sign that the road I'm taking is headed in the right direction. I believe because I want to believe and not because there's actually something there to believe in. I take solace in her smile because I can imagine myself seeing that smile every morning for the rest of my life.

Yet eventually I know what comes next. I expect the cold wind that blows the clouds over my sunshine. I start analyzing all the same telltale signs of true love's embrace. But now I start to divest the meaning from the motion. I willingly remove the veil of magic and mystery from the situation. I don't want to get my hopes up. I don't want to set myself up for that fall. The touches suddenly become accidental. The words suddenly are just words without an inch of subtext. The looks aren't aimed at me, but through me or around me. I'm just the person she's standing next to and not the person she's there with.

About the only quality that doesn't change is my view of her. I know she's worth all the extra analysis. I know she's worth it. The way she can fill me with such hope and such dread allows me such certainty. With most I'm used to not making an impression. That's pretty much standard fare for me. But with her I want to say some part of her will remember me. I want to say that five years from now, ten years from now introductions I won't have to be made again. She'll know my face, the way my eyes will still gently lay upon her, and my name will instantly spring to her lips. We may not end up tethered in this life or the next, but I'm confident there was a connection made that wasn't just ephemeral. More importantly, I know she made an impression on me, which, these days, is even more rare of occurrence. For a small part of my life I allowed some new light in through the shutters.

That's what I was thinking on my drive. I think I even set a record on how fast I went from the first part to the second part. I don't know if that's a sign of maturity or a sign of surrender.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Take Me Out Tonight, Because I Want To See People, And I Want To See Life

--"There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (cover)", The Ocean Blue

Dear Emily,

You can't regret the way a relationship ended nor wish things had gone differently. I've found that relationships are what they are, from start to finish. The only thing you can do is accept them for everything they meant to you, good or bad, and try to learn from them so the next one goes a little bit smoother. I know you were trying to help him, but sometimes I think people do themselves a disservice when they resume contact with their exes too soon. You know me, I'm a huge believer in maintaining some distance with somebody you've broken up with recently to evaluate where the two of you stand and where the two of you can go from there. For some of us, like you, the need to mother somebody overrides the basic idea that the two of you didn't work out for a reason. That reason doesn't disappear simply because you feel needed.

Sometimes you can't pull out of the spiral until it's too late and no amount of assistance is going to change the point when you pull yourself out. I think he's just that kind of person who'll accept help even if, in the end, that help doesn't really change anything for him. The only way to get yourself out of funk is, like it or not, to physically crawl your way out of it. You can't be dragged, you can't be pushed, and you certainly can't have your hand held while somebody gently dries you off. It isn't a cake walk leading a happy life. It isn't supposed to be easy getting some or all of what you want. You're going to fall. The best thing you can do is not drag somebody down with you... or, in some people's case, is not to let other people drag you down with them.

The sad thing is I know exactly what you mean about all you want is someone to curl up next to and tell them how your day want. That's what I want too. I've never been the type to sleep with dozens of women. I've only slept with four girls... and two of those were only once or twice. The other two were people I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life. That's what made those times special. Frankly, I always thought the part afterwards, the part where the two of you are all sweaty from making love and just fall asleep in each other's embrace was the better part of the night. There's a comfort there that just barely edges out the excitement and earth-shattering passion of sex. Give me a night of just getting lost in another person's quiet caress as you rest next to each other over a whole night of unbridled fucking any time.

I want the meatloaf and potatoes too. I want the girl next door as opposed to the girl from the clubs or the bars. I want the suburban mom over the big city fashionista. I want the quiet, simple life over the stress of a high maintenance existence. I want to be in my routine already and not struggling to figure out what comes next.

I guess I'm lucky in that regard compared to you. I may have lost my one best chance at finding that perfect wife, but I never did lose my best friend. I made sure that even when she got married we didn't drift apart. I made sure that I didn't let my feelings of being hurt and abandoned by her cloud my judgment in what a truly good thing I have with her. And, for her part, she didn't let her stupid husband dictate to her who she can and cannot still be friends with. There isn't a day I don't miss what I once had with her, how intimate and romantic and just darling we used to be with one another. But that's just the ex-boyfriend talking. The part that's still her best friend hasn't gone more than eight months without her company and doesn't plan on fucking that any time soon.

I know what it's like to lose her already. There is nothing--no fight, no difference of opinion, no request--too big to lose sight of what losing her forever would mean. And, frankly, I'm too much of a coward to find out. There's a lot of people who've told me that it's unhealthy to put so much stock into one person. That it's unhealthy to treat her like she's my best friend and my little sister wrapped up into one... but that's exactly like she feels to me, like she's both my one true friend and family at the same time. There's people that have told her that it's unhealthy to keep in touch with me as much as she does, given our history and given she's nine years into her marriage almost. I don't know--we just make it work--because we made a promise to make it work and we both put in the extra effort to see that it does.

Yeah, that brings its own set of problems. For instance, I don't know if I'll ever be able to really fall in love with someone again. I mean--I dated DeAnn for three years and lived with her for one. I kept running into the problem that whatever was lacking in our relationship I could always find in Breanne. I kept running into the concern that on the days when putting up with the gal I was with was too difficult I always had a place to run to with the gal I used to be. Maybe that's not a good thing, to have an easy, dependable way out of dealing with problems that truly needed dealing with. BUt that's my life. She's my crutch. And even if for some reason I could ever want to walk on my own, it's gotten to the point where I think I've forgotten how. It's gotten to the point where I think I would cease to function properly if I didn't know I could call her if I was in trouble or lonely or just feeling out of it on any particular given day. It's gotten to the point where I don't actively look to date people because I get a lot of the comforting and care I need from a gal who lives thousands of miles away from me. And perhaps it's not all I want or deserve... but it's enough for me to live on. She's like my bread and water, when I know there could be real food and drink out there somewhere but I'm just too scared to spend all the days it would take to search for it.

And I know what you mean about Taylor. Jennifer was my Taylor. I didn't know her as long as you knew Taylor, but she made an impact on my life in the brief time that I knew her. She was just good. Not just a good person. She was like goodness personified. I never had a bad day with her. I never had a huge fight with her that I can remember. I never saw myself being annoyed she was my friend even for a second.

I lose friends so quickly. Technically, I give up on friends so quickly. It doesn't take much for me to give them up when they do the littlest thing to annoy me. I stopped being friends with everyone in my elementary school after I went to high school even though they all lived in the same town as me because I didn't want to make the effort to stay in touch with them. I lost my high school friends because I refused to adapt to the way they had grown up. To me their mature interests was not what I had signed up for and I felt like they never wanted to do anything I liked. They wanted to go snowboarding, when all I ever wanted to do was stay at home and play games like we used to. They wanted to go to strip clubs, and I just wanted to go find some place to eat and talk over dinner. They wanted to be different people and I just wanted to be the same person I was and always have been. They just made me feel stupid for staying the same or for having simpler tastes or for liking quieter, more subdued hobbies. But there were others I quit out on for stupid reasons. I quit on Heidi because she wrote bad letters (true story). I quit on Ilessa, for a time, because she moved away from me. I don't know--I've always taken it hard when people move away from me. If you've always lived far from me, that's fine. But if you're a nearby friend, well, then you should stay a nearby friend. I don't know how to make the conversion from one to the other. On the other hand, I would have loved to have one of my faraway friends like B. or Toby just move somewhere close to me. Just once I want to see somebody I'm friends with move to California.

And, I know when a girl's been crying because I always seem to be the person girls come to when they're feeling hurt or alone or scared. I never joke when it comes to a girl crying. I don't have that mechanism where I deflect the tension with humor. When I see a girl crying I want to know what's wrong. I want to know what I can do to help. I want to know how to make it better as soon as possible. I wasn't raised that way. I wasn't taught that. It's just a peculiarity of mine that a girl is downright beautiful when she's crying... and yet I hate to see beautiful things hurt.


there is a light that never goes out

I hope you find happiness soon, Slicks. You do deserve it. We all deserve it. We're all good people and, you're right, good things should happen to good people. I think what it is is it's a simple fact that we all have to go through the rough times before we're ready for the better times. We have to go through the heartache and the loneliness and the yelling, before we know how to smile again. Sometimes we have to experience colder weather to appreciate the sunshine as much as we should.

Hold in there, the sun will come out tomorrow, Slicks. I promise.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Everyone Showed You Where To Turn, Told You When To Runaway, Nobody Told You Where To Hide, Nobody Told You What To Say

--"Blurry", Puddle of Mudd

Horse

I have never ridden the horse
much like I have never drunk from
the dirty glass. Such bravery
I have never possessed in its entirety.
I have heard you can speak to him
in whispers; becalm him by
conversing in his tongue.
It's sensible since I am insisting
he bear my weight without sass
or inquiries. But it isn't presumption
that prevents my mounting his
dappled back immediately.
I believe I was given dominion over
the beasts of the earth and sky and waves.
It's the simple fear that the horse,
like the rider, doesn't know where
it belongs and the simple fear
that I could be carried away by him
indefinitely.

dw

----

I prefer plans. I prefer planning. When you leave too much to chance, then the chances can you spin you wily-nilly wherever they want. They do in my case, I can tell you that much. If I had my way I would schedule out my next ten years, day by day, rather than leave the majority of my time to something I can see. It's the same way with my obsessions. I'm not a huge proponent of fighting against an enemy I can't see. Dirt, destiny--they're expressions of the same enemy. The unknown. I'm not looking forward to the big nothing. People always tell me that the outcome isn't set in stone, that the future might be bright if I just roll the dice. But brightness isn't necessarily a good thing. Brightness can blind you. Brightness can kill you given the chance. Gosh. I'd much prefer some light to see my way by. I'd rather be able to walk along at my own pace than feel like I have to rush headlong into the breach. That's why I don't see myself pushing myself to the edges just because I can. I'm not courageous for courage's sake. Push me and I'll fight back. Chase me and I'll run. But there's no need to test my capabilities when my capabilities aren't being tested. I firmly believe. Accept what you have. Accept where you're going. The only time you should deviate is if it's unhealthy or unlikely you can be happy in your present position or at your current pace. There's nothing we can't survive. There's nowhere we can't thrive. But if you give up too quickly, if you turn your focus too swiftly to that of hoping and praying, there's no way of knowing how much your self-will can overcome. That's what I say, focus on the present and don't hitch your horse to a better future. Fight for your better present. Leaving the hoping to those truly without hope.

dw

I Wouldn't If I Were You, I Know What She Can Do, She's Deadly, Man, And She Could Really Rip Your World Apart

--"Maneater", Hall & Oates

I love my cousin Katie like she was my own sister. I've felt like that for quite some time, ever since I came to the realization that the relation I thought would be there for me wasn't as loyal as she feigned to be. I've known her all my life. In that time I've come to learn a few things about her. For instance, I know how embarrassed she gets when she's put on the spot. I know how she still kisses your hand when she's especially grateful, the way they do in the movies. And I know--I just know--that Katie's always been upfront with me, "as open as a highway in the dead of night," and I've felt it's my duty to be as honest with her.

There was a time, though, where holding up to that duty wasn't exactly easy. A few years back she was completely smitten with a boy that seemed the perfect gentleman. He seemed to dote on her, say all the right things and did his best to be thoughtful of her every need. He palled around with all her friends. He was affectionate, kind, and funny when he was around her. And when he met with her kin (including me) he was especially charming. To the right kind of eyes he seemed the perfect gentleman. As things go in our family, it wasn't very long before talk of marriage had spread through the phone tree like wildfire. Most of it was prompted by Katie herself, but some of it was fanned by my mother, bless her little heart, as well as the other matriarchs of the extended family.

Most of us gals knew we wanted to get married young. Hell's bells, I got married right out of college so I suppose part of the blame can be laid at my feet as well. Katie was no different. It was a game she couldn't win. She felt the pressure to find that right person as soon as possible and, to be kind, it really did seem like she had found the tree that bore the golden fruit on her first foray into the woods.

The trouble was all was not it appeared to be with Katie's beau. The more he came to call on her while she was with her family, the more most of us saw through the chinks in his armor. He was presumptuous, taking liberties with our hospitality in ways most boys saw occasion to be more well-reserved. He would give his opinion on personal matters that he did not have the whole truth about to people as varied as Katie's dad, my cousins. Even my daddy was no stranger to getting an earful of his "honest opinion." It's one thing to chime in now and again to participate in the conversation, but Katie's beau would full-on dominate the proceedings as if he were the expert we all were in desperate need of. He was clingy with her to the point of distraction. There would be times where I would want to take my favorite cousin out for dinner or drinks, only to be rebuffed at the last minute with the weak excuse of him "needing" her right then. Granted, I expected most of her time to be spent in his company. That's to be expected with any relationship. I wasn't asking her to give up any more of her time than she was willing to give to me. But there came a point where his sudden need for her managed to coincide with my plans with her without fail. He started to look like the petulant boy who raises a fuss to keep all the attention on him at the exclusion of everyone else around him. Worst of all, he seemed to be settling her down in all the worst ways. She became more reserved, more timid, and more apologetic. Granted, Katie's always been shy and respectful. But she's also always had a fire that's common in the women of our extended brood.

The truth was the more she was around him the more that fire seemed to be less and less brightly.

We all came to the conclusion around the same time, all the cousins, all the aunts and uncles, everyone... except Katie and her parents. On the outside we all were hugs and smiles at the prospect of her settling down with a husband. On the inside, though, it seemed nothing but a mistake. She might have found her life with him content and pleasant, but I knew she was never going to be happy. She would never find the bliss of true love with a boy whose only thought was to keeping himself happy.

I know what it's like to get married earlier than you need to. While I wouldn't go so far as to say I married the wrong man, I could say now that if I had to do it over again I would have waited another few years to make sure. I wouldn't have allowed the idea of being married to outweigh the considerations that a successful marriage requires. I jumped in whole-hog, as I'm wont to do, because I'd been convinced that once you've found the right guy and he asks you that you don't keep him waiting. I didn't take as much time with the decision as I should have.

I didn't want to see Katie fall off the same horse.

The problem was how to tell somebody I loved deeply that she deserved better than what she buying into. There's no easy way to damn that river, even if you have the best intentions. Not one of us--not my folks, not my cousins, not my aunts or uncles--wanted to be the person who threw the first stone. We all knew whoever made the first move to straightening her out would receive the lion's share of the scrutiny. It wouldn't matter that the rest of us agreed. It wouldn't even matter if she eventually came around to our line of thinking. Whoever said the first word would be branded as the instigator of her heartache and loneliness. That was one title I didn't want to be bestowed on me. I liked my cousin. More importantly, she liked me, you know? I wanted to insure that things stayed that way for as long as possible.

Yet in time I began to see that the only gal who could deliver the blow was little 'ole me. No one else was close enough or understood the situation for all its particulars like I did. If someone was to be the scapegoat I had the requisite stubbornness to pull off the transformation convincingly. That's what I did. I took her to lunch one day. There, I told her in no uncertain terms that I didn't like her boyfriend and that the rest of the family didn't approve as well. I told her, "sugar, I'm not telling you what to do, mostly because I know how well that works on me. I'm only saying you should consider the facts that so many of your kin disapprove. We all can't be wrong, you know?" She was stunned. To her it seemed like my proclamation was a complete turnaround from my previous position on the matter. I had turned my back on her and her happiness, which couldn't have been farther from the truth. If anything, it was entirely her happiness I was considering. It took her a few moments to compose herself. When she did she kindly thanked me for my opinion and then walked out of the restaurant one short tiptoe away from tears.

When I caught up to her at her car she'd already taken a dozen steps over that line. I hugged her from behind before she could drive away. I didn't let go as much as asked to be released. I didn't let go as much as she struggled against me. When she finally calmed down sufficiently I told her what I should have said in the restaurant.

"Look, Katydon't, you know I love you. There's no one in my family I love more than you except my folks. Whatever your decision--not just in this marriage--I'll support you. I'll support you till the day I die. So if you can tell me that this is what you truly want, that he's truly what you want, then I won't say another word. And on your wedding day, when I see you up there with my future cousin-in-law you won't see a bigger smile than mine. And when I walk up to you to congratulate the two of you you won't hear a louder voice than mine. Your happiness will be my happiness.

"I just want to see you happy. That's all that matters to me."

With that I let her go. I watched her drive away unsure as to what my little 'ole speech's effect on her was. It would be almost thirty-six hours later that I would receive a phone call from her, telling me she had decided a few things with her beau. These few things, she would explain to me, would involve ironing out how she saw their future together and the steps he needed to take to make that future happen. She would also explain to me how calm he seemed and how reassuring his voice sounded... a little too calm and a little too reassuring, she would tell me.

A week later they were broken up and she was devastated, to say the least. I felt every bit the instigator and every bit the scapegoat. I only hoped that had enough room in her broken little heart to forgive me. Aside from that fear, though, I had confidence that what I had said was right in its clarity. I didn't mince words. I told her exactly what I felt and the reasons I felt them. I didn't sugarcoat that I had a strong dislike for him or my opinion that she was far too good for him. Never once did the notion that I was being overprotective of my faux-sister enter my thoughts. My only thought was how she was my blood and that meant something to me in a way that those who don't come from a close-knit family can't ever understand. It wasn't that I wanted to interfere with my cousin's life, or that I wanted to take over running it. The only thing I wanted, the only thing I've ever wanted for her, was that she have a full, healthy life where she ultimately finds happiness and never lets go of it.

When people say they had to be cruel in order to be kind it's usually an excuse for their own inherent venom. When I had to be cruel to be kind, however, I went into with a heavy heart. Sometimes I reckon that's the only difference between thinking of yourself as wicked and being truly wicked. When you're wicked you do things devoid of personal investment. When you're only pretending to be you feel each and every tear right along with them, you hurt just as much as they do, and you die just as much as they do.

Killing Katie's dream in order that she may find another one to fulfill was probably one of the hardest tasks I've ever been asked to undertake. But I don't regret doing it. Not one inch. Not for even one second.

Breanne

And I Wonder, When I Sing Along With You, If Everything Could Ever Feel This Real Forever, If Anything Could Ever Be This Good Again

--"Everlong", Foo Fighters

I have a toothache right now. I can't remember the last time I had one of those. For all my life I've never had a problem with my teeth, except for when my wisdom teeth were growing in impacted. Aside from that, I haven't had one cavity, one root canal, one sign of trouble that required any special attention on the part of my dentist.

Therein lies the problem. I'm a person who grows complacent easy. I'm easily deluded into believing that just because things are going good now that they will continue to do so ad infinitum. That's the reason I haven't been to see a dentist in almost six years. It isn't because I don't believe in preventative care--which I kind of do. It more has to do with the fact that I have a gods complex when it comes to messing around with a good thing. When I'm on a roll I'm very hesitant to do anything to mess with the streak of good fortune. Ever since 2005 I haven't had one problem with my teeth till now. During that time I really did think I was invincible, that possibly I wouldn't have to go the dentist ever again in my life.

I don't know if it's the smart bet to have taken, but it's the route I almost always seem to take. That's part of the reason I hold onto my favorites for so long. It's easier to place my faith in old standbys than risk being hurt by something new. It's easier to rely on routines than changing direction every so often. It's easier to desperately cling to old friends than put myself out there for new ones. It's easier to not read about what's going on in the world at large than it is to discover that there are serious problems out there that need solving. And, yes, it's easier to let the chips fall where they may when it comes to my health, dental or otherwise, than go out there to get that yearly check-up and discover problems.

Because when it comes down to it, I'm scared of the big bad news. I'd rather put myself in a position where I have no access to new information so as to believe the old information is still true. If I had my way it would still be 1987 and the biggest concern I would have is being thought of as the weird kid at school. I wouldn't have to worry about my body degrading, the people I care about moving further and further away from me, or something so silly as the future. Caring about my teeth, just like caring about any of the other so-called important concerns, just puts me at risk for having to worry about them. If I had my way I wouldn't have to worry about anything at all.

Not my health, not my well-being, not paying for a new condo for the next thirty years. Nothing. I just want everything to be okay and drown out anyone and anything who has the potential to tell me otherwise.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Pick A Star On The Dark Horizon, And Follow The Light, You'll Come Back, When It's Over, No Need To Say Good Bye

--"The Call", Regina Spektor

While I was watching Michael Scott's final episode on The Office I was reminded of another show having to carry on without its supposed star. Back in 1994 Avonlea aired an episode that was unlike any episode that had come before it. The reason? It failed to feature Sara Stanley, the ostensible main character of the show, at all in any scene of the episode. Back when the show started in 1989 almost every episode was built around her. If she wasn't in the "A" storyline, she at least made the "B" storyline. Back then it was inconceivable to think that she wouldn't even rate a cameo in any episode to come in the show. She felt that integral to the whole fabric of the reality of the show.

After that episode in 1994 it became more prevalent that Sara Stanley wouldn't be seen in stretches of episodes. More and more, it came to feel like the show had less of a central store and more an ensemble of characters who would take center stage in turns. Granted, some shows can function very well in this capacity. However, Avonlea, was always best when it had Sara as its bedrock. Without her, the entire reality felt fractured. It was hard to see where Felicity's travails connected with that of the Lesters, or how Hetty's journey of self-discovery jibed with that of her brother Alec's more mundane trials. Like the books, The Story Girl was the audience's surrogate. It made sense she could see all the stories of the other characters because she was the town's Pollyanna; she ingratiated herself into everyone's company. Thus, it made sense that she'd be present in so many different environments, that she would get into so many scrapes, that she could have these many stories to tell about her, because that was who she was. She literally was the one who the stories were built around and for.

Now some may say that there isn't a show on the air that entirely needs a main star to be successful. There are dozens of cases where shows have carried on with the loss of their main "star". Valerie became The Hogan Family. Diane Chambers left Cheers, Richie left Happy Days, and even 8 Simple Rules carried on when John Ritter died. I'm not saying there aren't instances where losing the major star cannot be overcome.

But sometimes a journey is laid out that calls out for a leader. It isn't so much that this lead figure is anywhere better than the rest of the party. It isn't so much that this lead figure deserves the spotlight any more than the rest. It's just sometimes the journey requires somebody come to the forefront, somebody to take on the responsibility of doing the majority of the heavy lifting. That's what Michael Scott was. That's what Sara Stanley was. Both shows aren't the same after the loss of the person who bore the brunt of the load.

It's just like this website. I know for a fact that my story isn't any more important than yours. I don't write a blog because I feel my life is any more interesting, exciting, or unique than anybody who reads this. Yet, like it or not, this blog simply would cease to function as an entity if I were to leave it. True, Breanne and Toby could carry on for awhile, but the truth is this place has always been more of my home away from home than it has been for them. If I die, if I leave, or if I'm otherwise prevented from writing here I know there would be no recovery. That's why these last few weeks of me fretting about the condo have been stressful. It's taken up the time I normally devote to planning what I write here. Lately, it's felt like I've neglected this site moreso than I have in the past.

And I can't do that to this place. I'm not ready to leave the spotlight just yet. I'm not ready to move on to whatever I'm destined to do next. I'm not about to unravel everything here just yet.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers