Who Are These People?

I have opened my heart and my home and welcomed in entire casts of characters with outstretched arms.  I anxiously await the arrival of the “chosen” with bated breath.  I feel their highs and lows and am one with their spirit.  Exactly who are these interlopers and what do they want?  I have extended myself more than I would normally do in thirty or sixty minutes and am not ashamed to tell people that I have done so.

There was a time, in college, that I planned my class schedule around an afternoon interlude.  I looked forward to Adam, Blake, Dimitri and the others and their juicy tales, as they counted on me.  It was a bond, a trust of sorts that was created when they knew they could always depend on me.

I have been known to be fickle and uncaring in the past, but those parts of my being, as many things in my youth, have gone the way of the unicorn.  I have spoken about these beloved personalities in hushed tones and was so bold as to forecast their futures.  I continue to be steadfast and dependable to my special ones even if it means hiding in the dark, observing from afar on another day or time.

More recently, finding McDreamy, Phil, Simon, Seth and Jack Bauer (among others) has been life changing.  Their influence and control that at times will stronghold me into submission and can cause me not to go out in the evening is overwhelming and I am rendered helpless by these creatures, dimensionally challenged as they are.  They give back what and when they can.  I realize there are boundaries that they would like their moral standings to uphold, but I secretly wish that they could be there for me for an indulgence or two and always at my beck and call.

It is not easy to see someone cast off.  I know, in my heart, that the ability to rise to the pressure and stress to perform at their peak on a regular basis can find them in a quandary and written off without a proper farewell.  Comme ci comme ça, but I would like the extravagance of rerunning some of my favorite scenes, just for the memories of days gone by and for a brief second, hold those dear to me remotely.

Pawns of a script is what those jaded from a childhood experience may say.  I beg to differ, for each and every lone soul has richness, evil, a hidden secret that is waiting to be exposed.  It is difficult to watch when those you love are judged so harshly and all you feel you have is one vote to give them and that probably doesn’t make the difference in the long run.  I know I am just a statistic in the world of Nielsen, but I have feelings, too.

As I boldly head to video to find old friends such as Doogie, Chandler, Ross, Rachel, Brandon, Dylan, Kelly and Donna in syndication, I heartily embrace the reality of today’s idols.  Knowing that with the click of a button and my ongoing love affair with TIVO, everyone will get their chance to be seen and shine.

So it goes, it is true, I need a life. Living vicariously through the boob tube isn’t always the best place to get accurate facts, and I really know deep down that these people are figments of someone’s imagination, even on the “reality” shows.  But for entertainment value, it can’t be beat and thinking, for even just a moment, that these people could live down the street from me with all their trials and tribulations sure makes my life look so much better.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-