A Series Finale

I've finally figured out what this whole graduating/moving/leaving all my friends behind feels like.  It feels like the series finale of a television show, a quirky comedy perhaps, but one with a lot of heart.  The ratings haven't always been great but it has a loyal viewership who keep coming back, and now it's time for everyone to say goodbye.

No, we haven't been in a Sideways afterlife the whole time.  And no, no one is going to be chasing anyone to try and catch them at the airport, no one is grappling with life-altering career shuffling or relationship revelations.  But it's still an ending, and I think it's been a pretty great one.  This has been a week of "lasts", of visiting old haunts one more time, of drinking because we only have the excuse of college for a few more days, of spending time together obsessively because we're each afraid the others will disappear before we've gotten the chance to say goodbye.

As with any finale, we've had the essential moments.  The party scene, where everyone just gets drunk and miraculously nothing too regrettable happens.  Appearances from some old friends, guest stars now who've moved on to bigger and better things.  And many, many truly touching moments, moments of honesty and farewell, moments of hugs and tears, moments in which we acknowledge to ourselves that this could be The End, with capital letters.  There have been music montages, nostalgic conversations that always begin "hey, remember that time?", and major decisions that hang in the balance.  And there have been laughs-- lots of laughs, because no real comedy worth its salt can go out on a completely somber note.

Do I wish the show's run could've gone on longer?  Absolutely.  I could have been a part of this for the rest of my life, and it would have been enough.  But change is inevitable, and I knew one day this would conclude.  I don't know what's next, and I don't know all the tiny ways this experience will show its influence in the future.  What I do know, though, and what I'll always remember, is this time, now.  I'll remember this ending, and the knowledge that whatever the final lines turn out to be, it will have ended exactly the way it was always supposed to.  And I will be grateful for every moment of this experience, of every person whose name comes to mind as the proverbial credits roll.

What a Difference 4 Years Makes

In thirteen days I will be on a plane.  I will have gotten my diploma, a piece of paper that verifies how much debt I've accrued and how many dry dusty books I've read.  I will have said goodbye to the most wonderful people I've ever met, many for the last time.  And I will be closing this chapter of my life, stitching it neatly shut behind me without knowing what's ahead.

When I left Chicago for Seattle four years ago, I was bursting with hope.  I'd been trying to break out of the place and the life I'd known for so long, and here was my chance, finally.  I was ready for anything, good and bad.  And I've been lucky, because most of it, the vast majority really, has been good.  No, good doesn't do it justice.  It's been tremendous, life-changing, and educational in more ways than I ever expected.  I took a risk and, in a rare twist of fate for me, it paid off.  It paid off and I am so grateful it did.

Yes, I gave some things up to come here.  But the things I gave up then were all maybes, all possibilities, all question marks.  I might have found what I was looking for if I'd stayed, but probably not.  People looked at me strangely, didn't understand why I thought I needed to leave, to strike out on my own.  Some days even I didn't understand why, I just knew it was something that had to happen.  I didn't want to spend my life wading among the question marks, and wake up one day with a whole lot of would-haves and should-haves.

What I'm walking away from now is much different.  There aren't any maybes here, not really.  There are certainties, and a lot of them.  I could be happy here for the rest of my life.  I would get to keep the friends who have become my family.  I would feel safe, surrounded by the amazing landscape that makes up this place.  I would get to continue being this version of myself.

But the restless part of me recognizes that for the disadvantage that it actually is.  The wanderer inside of me isn't ready to stop moving, to settle for what I've found at 22, even though I feel more alive here than I ever have.  There's an optimism in this next step, the biggest question mark I've yet encountered-- if four years here can change me so much for the better, who's to say I can't find even more in the next place I decide to call home?  And even if that's not on the table yet, that feeling of instability, of not knowing quite what's going to happen tomorrow, it pushes me to strive for more, to be better.  It's the reason I've taken so long writing my novel while I've been here-- I didn't need to use writing as my escape nearly as often as I used to.  But do you know what?  In the weeks leading up to my departure, I've been more dedicated to it than ever; some part of me feels like if I can just finish telling the story, everything will be okay.

And really, that's been the case my whole life, probably always will be.  As long as I can write, as long as I can keep telling stories, things will turn out all right.  That, at least, has never been a question mark.

TV Discussion: Should 'The Office' Quit While It's Ahead?

I've been an Office fan from the beginning, from the days before Steve Carell's hair implants and the days when Jim and Pam could only shoot longing glances at each other from across a crowded office.  So it's with a heavy heart that I come to the conclusion that this show should really just wrap up at the end of this season, following Michael's departure. 

It would be tempting to say that the writers have simply run out of material, but based on the past few episodes that really isn't the case.  The proposal episode and now Will Ferrell's first appearance have both been truly successful installments of The Office, and this only adds strength to my conviction that to end things now would be to go out on top.  Now that they're in the process of replacing Michael, it seems almost too fitting that the rest of the show's loose ends (not that there are many remaining) should be tied up as well.  I think more than anything I'd like to see a truly heartfelt and hilarious season finale turn into a series finale, where we leave our favorite Dunder-Mifflinites behind, knowing that they'll continue to get into the hijinks we all know and love, but also that they'll be just fine without us.  I'd miss Jim and Pam and Dwight (and my weekly dose of John Krasinski, naturally), but I'd rather see them go in the fairly content states they are now then watch them flounder for another season or two before coming to a flat conclusion.

Just throwing it out there, NBC.  Don't sacrifice a great show's integrity just so you can make a bigger profit.