Never knowing if there's solid ground below.

Dear Ryan Murphy,

Hey. Let me introduce myself.

I am a fan. Okay, I am a "Gleek," as the group of us has been called... I'm pretty sure you're behind that lovely nickname. I currently own every musical recording from the show; I'm anxiously awaiting the Karaoke Revolution game for the wii, and I did run to Macy's to check out the apparel (I didn't buy any... it was all sort of lame). Currently in my DVD player is one of the season one discs. Got it? I love your show.

Once upon a time, you created my all-time favorite television show. No, not "Nip/Tuck." I've never even seen an episode of that. A little too bizarro for me. Back when I was in high school, there was this two-season show that was sort of struggling in obscurity. When I mention it today, only a few people even know what I'm talking about. "Popular" was one of the best shows I have ever seen on television.



The characters were eccentric, and the actors were - for the most part - fresh faces the audience had never seen before. To this day, I still quote scenes with the fabulous Mary Cherry, and I remember guest appearances by people like Delta Burke and Anne Margaret. I used to call it an "Ally McBeal" for teens, but it had a little more quirk. I don't believe "Ally McBeal" ever pushed the envelope with characters like Dr. Bobby Glass, whose gender was questionable (sounds an awful lot like new football coach Beist), or the cross-dressing teacher that drew support from an entire group of students. Hey, who can forget April Tuna? I remember being told I resembled one of the show's leads, Carly Pope, and that always made me happy.

Though the show only lasted two seasons, and viewers were left with a cliffhanger, with the way things have been going so far this season on "Glee," I'm starting to think my memories of the short-lived "Popular" are best just the way they are.



Ryan, what happened? Have you gotten too big for your britches? Suddenly, Sue's one-liners are no longer shocking and hilarious. They now verge on disgusting and inappropriate. You took Mr. Schue (props on casting Matt Morrison, btw) from a fun-loving, dedicated teacher to an entirely creepy pseudo role model that has become far too involved in his students' lives. And what happened to the hilarity of Ken Tanaka or Sandy Ryerson, the previous glee club leader (also, very clever, because the actor Steven Tobolowsky also played Ned RYERSON in Groundhog Day... nice touch)? And then you just make the extra football kid, Matt, disappear? Come on...

Most upsetting at the moment, you cannot be without Puck for two episodes! I don't care if he's pissing you off because he's got a music career. He's a series regular, and the stories are better with him.

Recently, I went back and watched a few of the earlier episodes, before the spotlight exploded and your actors were on the cover of GQ. There was something more interesting about those shows. The musical numbers were better, and - in true musical fashion - their significance in the storyline helped to further the plot. Suddenly, this season has become a pageant of sorts where the contestants perform their individual numbers with the hopes of... what? Hmm... I'm not quite sure. I miss the exposition of Will and Terri's relationship. I miss learning about Finn and his family and just how Kurt fits in. And, I hoped at some point, you could introduce us to Rachel's dads, whom obviously have a huge role in the character that Lea Michele has developed.

I mean, I do love a musical on TV. Hell, I would've watched "Viva Laughlin" if it stayed on the air. I do realize we're still early on in season two, and there's a good chance it's going to air just like last season - with a huge break in the middle. I'm anticipating Carol Burnett's guest spot, and I'm hoping for far more of Cheyenne Jackson. But what I'd really like to see - more than any big names that can attract ratings - are REAL, functioning stories that bring us back to the heart of the show. The outcast doesn't just have to be the heavyset girl or the guy that listens to showtunes. Somewhere, each of us can relate to Quinn or Artie. I want a great, showstopping number that revolves around the story, not the week's tribute artist. And, like my friend and fellow viewer says, how can New Directions be ready for nationals when they haven't even developed solid group numbers? I have a bigger question: how can the group even be GOING to nationals in NY when they didn't qualify or place at regionals? Because, Ryan, you've majorly neglected that part of the story.

Earlier today, I was looking up the phrase "jumping the shark." Most TV viewers know that this is a phrase used to describe some ridiculous ratings ploy that ultimately - when critics and audiences look back - turns out to be the downturn of the program. The term was coined from an episode of "Happy Days" when Fonzie and the crew were visiting Hollywood, and while waterskiing, Fonzie jumped over a shark. You could also liken this to when Ross and Rachel had a baby on "Friends." It's just never the same afterwards.

I wonder, Ryan, if you can't reel it in, what will the critics say was your moment jumping the shark? Was is casting Uncle Jesse as a singing dentist? Was is the mess of a Rocky Horror episode? Or will it be something else that happens five years down the line when the show just can't hack it anymore?

I hope.

Sincerely,
Emily

"What do ya say to taking chances? What do ya say to jumping off the edge?"

You need to hear me out, and they said "speak now."

A while ago, I blogged about some of my sources of inspiration... at least when it comes to my writing. To be completely honest, it's been some time since I sat down to work on this supposed novel I've been trying to write. I found myself needing a new source of motivation, something fresh to spur the flow of words. Maybe since finishing the Harry Potter books, I've felt sort of down on my own feelings about typing out dialogue and description. Because no one will ever be J.K. Rowling, it was a bit of a depressing moment to complete the series and then watch her Oprah interview (note - my fellow HP fan friends warned me about post-Harry depression). While I find no one in the word as captivating and encouraging as Rowling, I just wasn't able to find my own words.

Until now.

I have repeatedly complained about Taylor Swift's inability to sing well live and her awkward performing skills. But when it comes down to it, I am a HUGE fan. For my generation (and a few younger), there have been very few songwriters that can connect as well with an audience. Her ability to speak to an audience and receive such a positive response is impressive. Her bubbly personality and open honesty are contagious.

I watched the days on my calendar... waiting and waiting for October 25th to arrive. The release of Taylor's album "Speak Now."

I was already completely stuck on the album's first single "Mine," but I refused to listen to any other tracks supposedly detailing relationships with Taylor Lautner, John Mayer, and Joe Jonas. I wanted and needed to hear the album in its entirety. Multiple times. Currently I am on my sixth time through. I am a song repeater, and I will do it until I learn the words.



More importantly, I was waiting for this album because there is something about listening to Taylor that makes me want to write. It's almost like an uncontrollable itch. I can be lying in bed, flipping through a magazine with her music playing in the background, and instantly I need to open my word document. Though none of her songs have hit me quite like her first single, "Tim McGraw," this particular album includes a candid letter to listeners.

The Prologue, as Taylor titled it, expresses the importance to say what you have to say - without fear of humiliation or regret. You could be speaking to yourself in the mirror, confessing to a crush in a big crowd, or simply typing on the keyboard into a story the world will read. While reading this letter, I'm sure I felt like so many of the 15 year-old girls that ran out to Target or Best Buy yesterday just to purchase a copy of "Speak Now." Being someone that wants to write, it was nearly impossible to read the short note and not think she was speaking to me.

And, yesterday, when I finished my first play through the whole album, I added a few pages to the story I'm working on.



I realize this probably sounds entirely corny to anyone reading it. And the fact that I find a lanky 20 year-old girl an inspiration might seem silly. But, think about it, she has so much that so many would die for, and she has the chance to stand up and open her heart and her mouth, letting the world hear her story. And she's entirely luckier than a lot of us.

So don't be surprised when I dedicate my first novel to her. Yes, I'm one of millions that listens to her non-stop, but I might just be the ONE that publishes a novel completely and entirely motivated by one of her singles.

"There's the silence. There's my last chance."

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So I'm gonna give all my secrets away.

Last night, over a fro-yo date with my friend (and blogging buddy) Eric I got the idea for this blog. After being inspired by the yogurt place's brilliant napkins,



we started talking about my longtime customer crush. I mentioned to Eric how one of my employees said, "Most guys you'll meet will have a past. You just happen to know his already."

True.

100% true... But, isn't it somewhat disturbing to have seen the parade of breakfast partners over the last few years? Sunday morning meal. Saturday night clothes. See, this customer became a regular back when I was waiting tables. I got to know him and his then girlfriend as a very nice couple that never strayed from their safe meals of nova and kippered salmon. They often came in for breakfast after a bike ride and usually shared the newspaper, barely speaking and passing different sections back and forth. This was about 5 years ago. Eventually, the nice girlfriend was gone, and, in her place, seemed to be a parade of different ladies - most not nearly as nice or as nice looking as the girlfriend. Suddenly, I realized I was learning far more about him than I probably should have known.

In talking about men with a past, Eric brought up an interesting point. There should be some sort of Emotional Background Check. Forget running numbers on his credit, scanning the fingers for a ring, or determining his employment status. This is more important.



Think about the items you'd put on your Emotional Background Check.

1. Number of previous relationships.
2. Number of previous partners.
3. Longest relationship.
4. Capability of e-mailing/calling/texting.
5. Ability to remember birthdays/anniversaries/holidays.
6. Drinking/smoking/drug habits.
7. Last time tears were shed.
8. Ability to communicate with parents - his/hers or the partner's.
9. Skills of accepting others, unconditionally.
10. Chances of getting married.

Maybe your list is longer or shorter. Maybe none of these things are important. But don't you agree some things might be easier up front? Some of these things are exposed over time, and it's possible that other details never reach the surface. There's a good chance if you learn some details, it could very well be too late. You're already in, too invested to back out or to prevent heartbreak.

It's likely he'll always pay and open doors. He may even pull out chairs and help you with your coat. Don't get me wrong, chivalry is (and always will be) appreciated. But if you don't know that he's able to be something more than a gentleman in appearance, why continue a charade? Eventually, facades fade, and you're left with the person you would never have been interested in to begin with.

"Got no reason, got no shame. Got no family I can blame."

I've got a crush on you.

Sixteen Candles is one of the best movies. Ever. The John Hughes classic focuses on high schooler (what else?) Samantha Baker and her unfailing admiration for crush-worthy Jake Ryan. After her family forgets her birthday, Samantha begins that tormented teenage moment of self-pity and wallowing. We've all been there, right?



There's one moment from this movie that always sticks out for me. No, it's not when foreign exchange student Long Duck Dong gets misplaced. It's also not when The Geek charges fellow freshmen for a peek at Sam's underwear. There's a discussion Samantha shares with her dad. In his older, parental wisdom, Mr. Baker tells Sam, "That's why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they'd call 'em something else."

Now, if you've seen this movie (a million times, like I have), you know how it ends. In some dramatic twist of John Hughes fate, the high school romance is realized, and our over-the-top Molly Ringwald heroine gets the guy. Hmm... How many of your crushes have gone this way? None? Join the club.



Last week, I saw recent photos of an old high school crush. Once upon time - in 1998/1999 - I was a high school freshman, and this guy was a senior. I remember seeing him every day, before sixth period, in third floor C-wing. Back then, he had very red hair, was average height, and occasionally wore glasses. I have a weakness for the glasses. He was also a customer in my parents' then restaurant. I was a complete nerd over him, and yet I never even spoke to him. Not one word. My best friend knew him, and used to tell me what a huge jerk he was. Eh, when it's a crush you'll never get, you don't have to worry about these things. So when I saw these new photos of him (thanks for Facebook stalking), I was surprised to find he grew possibly a foot in height, and his once very red hair had browned and grown out. He was still wearing the glasses. I said to my best friend, "Old habits die hard. Yeah, he's still hot." Oh, and married.

This one particular crush got me thinking about how I could punctuate times in my life, and I realized it wasn't by hair style or clothing trend. I can easily pin point different moments - both during school and after - by the object of my affection at the time. Awful.

There were a couple of important ones back in elementary school. You know, the type of crush that took away the cooties and replaced them with blue eyes and blonde hair. Clearly, Zach Morris was a big icon for me then. This particular guy may or may not now be a Facebook friend (haha), but I don't think I've seen him since sixth grade, and yet I still laugh when I go through old photos and find the shots that I'm sure I must've have stared at with no end.

Middle school is sort of a blur... There was the close friend that never remembered he was supposed to take me to the 8th grade dance... and the other guy that brought me purple roses when he ended up being my date.

Flash forward to high school. Small fish in big, gigantic pond. Suddenly, there were many, many guys I had never seen before. One, two, and three years older than me. Before I found the aforementioned redhead, there was a major crush that pretty much all of my friends should remember. That year, Freshman Dance was in February. I asked him in September. I think about it now and am completely embarrassed by my actions. I also have to wonder whether or not he was truly my friend or just a guy that couldn't help but be intrigued by the affections of a silly freshman. From what I remember, he was used to it. There were movie outings, rides home, and after school theater rehearsals. It was a long time ago, but I can remember every bit of it. And when I met up with him years later while on a trip with a friend of mine, I couldn't help but feel like that 14 year-old all over again, split in two. One part giggly and giddy, one part 23 and not so grown up.

Like I said, old habits die hard. Big time.

Beyond high school and college, there are real world crushes. People that help you pass the time in the workplace or maybe neighbors you constantly meet in the elevator or on the street. There was the guy with the office that I would pass when it was completely unnecessary. And I can tell you that I still blush when my customer crush walks into the restaurant. This has been going on for 5 years because it clearly didn't leave me when I left Philly.

So do we ever grow out of this? Does the crush stop being fun/entertaining/painful? Even when we're married and happy, do we stop thinking about the ones that might have (or never would have) been? My mom always told me that when I go to my high school reunion, the good looking, popular ones will be bald and fat. I can only hope that one day those images will erase the ones from a long time ago.

Because, let's be honest, as the wise Mr. Baker said in Sixteen Candles, crushes aren't meant to be easy.

"I wonder if you'll ever think of me that way."

I know I'm diving into my own destruction.

What is it about the bad boy?

What makes the reckless, dangerous ones so darn appealing? "Cry-Baby" Wade Walker. James Dean. Dylan McKay. Colin Farrell. Try to deny it. You can't.



For a long time, I tried to tell myself I was not that girl. I wasn't looking for the difficult one, the guy that could hurt me so easily it was if I were asking for it. I refused to be the type that walked right into heartbreak, inheriting a difficult past and all the baggage that comes with it. It's unfortunate, because when I think about the few guys I have dated or really been interested in, I am totally that girl!

I think there's something in women that makes them want to fix things. By things I mean people more so than leaky faucets or flat tires. Is it possible that it's in our nature to nurture them? If we find them when they're broken, and we can rehab them, then they're ours, right? Like a rescued pet...

At work, we have this customer that I truly hate. I despise him with every bone in my body. Some time ago he created a problem for me and basically told his server that I could go to hell. And to top it off, he was wearing a Michael Vick jersey right after the Eagles acquired him - when many people were still on the "I Hate Michael Vick" campaign trail." That pretty much screamed ASSHOLE right from the start. This guy is rude, obnoxious, and entirely good looking. How come those things tend to come in a package, wrapped up perfectly for our consumption? What makes things worse is that he knows how much he irritates me. He'll stare at me until I'm so damn uncomfortable that I'm forced to look at him. It's all kind of... intriguing?



I just can't help it. No matter how much I want to like the nice guy, the nice guy needs a little edge. An edge that blurs the lines of boredom. But yet, just as much as we're engineered to clean up the mess, they're predisposed to break our hearts.

Sometimes it's the guy that has the horrible stories from his childhood, other times it's the one that you've seen with a parade of different girls. You know it's bad news, and you don't want to look... but you have to. It's like that wreck on the side of the road - avert your eyes, or you might get pulled into something you should have stayed away from in the first place. In terms of the fictional world, really, Puck is a little hotter than Finn, and Ryan was always miles ahead of Seth.

Trust me. You can't fix him, or tame him, or whatever else you think you are capable above all others. Bad is bad, and it's bad for you.

However... Let's think like Penny Lane for a minute... "You never take it seriously, you never get hurt..."

Is that possible?

"So why do we chose the boys that are naughty? I don't fit in, so why do you want me?"


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GWEN!