pb & j

With every television show I get hooked to, I always identify irrationally with one of the main characters. I'm hoping everyone does it, but it helps me become more emotionally invested in the story line (like that's so necessary...). For example, in high school I identified strongly with Marissa from the O.C. I've never even been to Tijuana, much less overdosed in an alley there. Nor have I had secret affairs with the sexy Mexican lawn boy. However, I've always had a weakness for lost boys with blue eyes.

Then when I was addicted to Grey's Anatomy for the first half of college, I felt like I identified with Christina. I wanted to be just like her: driven, ambitious, relentless, brilliant, plus she dated Dr. Preston Burke, whom I love. However, every time I would take one of those stupid personality tests on Facebook, it would always tell me I was Dr. Bailey. Really?

With Keeping Up with the Kardashians, I identified with... Bruce Jenner. The only white girl living with five Persian Beverly Hills Jewish girls, I didn't have much of a choice. Bruce is always the voice of reason, and let's just say that may have been how it was with our apartment dynamics as well. But not always. ;)

When I started to watch the Office, things really got out of hand. I identified/really wanted to be like Angela. Crazy, I know, but so is she. She is hard as nails and I love it. Granted, I hate cats and I probably would never seriously call Pam "whorish," nor would I date Dwight. Or Andy. But I would obviously honor the results of a duel over me. Unfortunately, every time my friends and I would talk about doing some kind of spoof of the Office, everyone always said I would be Kelly. Honestly? Am I that needy? Do I always need that much attention? Don't answer those questions.

Around the time of doppelgänger month last year, I was standing in the outfield during softball practice shagging balls (that is too good) while the rest of the team took BP. Our coaches were also in the outfield as usual to critique us on our swings and help on defense. I saw them looking over at me and kind of laughing, which wasn't too unusual and I figured it was well deserved. It was one of those days that I just didn't have time to do my hair, so it was up and pretty frizzy, and I'm sure I looked as tired as I felt. They called over to me and said, "Taylor, do you have a doppelgänger?" When I told them no, they laughed and informed me that I look exactly like Pam Beesley.

What?

Pam is okay, but she's not that smart. I mean, she failed art school. She basically rejected a beautiful love confession by Jim Halpert. And to make matters worse, she is frumpy! Am I frumpy?? As the coaches asked for the input of everyone else on the team, it soon became apparent that everyone agreed. Everyone. I was frumpy Pam Beesley. I still get text messages if one of them is watching the Office, just to tell me they miss me. It may or may not have been included in a birthday wall post from one of them yesterday. I've never been happy about this.

But then yesterday after a very exciting birthday phone call from two best friends currently in Israel, I called Matt to express my excitement and tell him all of the things that had happened to me so far on my birthday. He was in the library and was obviously busy, but it was my birthday so it was okay. As I kept talking, and his responses continued to be quiet I finally said, "Do you want me to let you get off the phone or something?" To which he replied, "No, let's talk for a long time."

This is a direct Jim Halpert quote. I could not stop laughing as I got off the phone. I'm okay being PB as long as I've got my J.

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Dear People in Utah,

Please stop writing letters to inanimate objects.

Not so sincerely,

Taylor

steady wins the race

I have never been a sprinter, but I can hold my own in distance. Once upon a time I ran a mile in sub-six minutes, but that was a very long time ago and to be honest our P.E. teacher may have flubbed the numbers because I still don't understand how that is possible. Ever since those all-important turkey trots in elementary school, I've always told myself that the way I start the race will be the way I finish it, except with more sweat. I always knew I needed to set my pace carefully from the very beginning, not too fast so as to exhaust myself, but not too slow to jeopardize my time.

In some ways this characterizes my life. When I start something slowly, or hesitate too much, it often takes a while to really get going.

If I start getting too sassy, Matt and I play a game of sorts that I kind of hate where Matt makes it nearly impossible for me to stand up. Every time I try to jump up from the couch or love sac, he is right there to push me back down. While that game is fun, and probably even more fun to watch, lately I feel like that's the way this place is treating me. Because of the constant readjustments and situations that bring me back to square one, it has been difficult to really get going.

At least that's my justification for being in my new apartment for a week and still not having any furniture to speak of...

But I know that I can't convince myself that I would rather stay stagnant. I need to keep going and keep struggling to stand up, hoping I'll catch him unawares.