letting go
If there's anything I might have learned from my Catholic upbringing and copious reruns of "The X-Files," it's that sometimes things are beyong our understanding. Sometimes you just have to put your faith in the creator. Let go and let God, as they say.
Well, forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I am the first to admit it: I was a skeptic. I doubted the ability of the writers of one of my favourite shows, "The Office," and I gave in to the blackness of despair. Are you sitting comfortably, Father? This may take a while.
At the end of Season Two, cute salesman Jim put it all on the line and told receptionist Pam he was in love with her. It was the highlight of the season -- the awkward confession, the warm connection -- and one of the best cliffhangers I'd ever seen, to boot. And then Season Three picked up three months later.
Pam had rejected Jim but called off her wedding to warehouse worker Roy; Jim had taken his broken heart to a bigger and better job at the Dunder-Mifflin branch in Stamford, Conn. The rest of the crew in Scranton, Pa., was taking care of business as usual.
It was weird to follow Jim at his new office while keeping abreast of the goings-on in Scranton. The new coworkers were difficult to get used to, and it all just felt strange. I kept watching, of course, because I hoped the writers wouldn't let me down, but when Jim started to get friendlier with his new female coworker, I found myself getting mad.
"Come on!" I would yell at my TV. "Jim, no!" Pam was out there, regretful and lonely, waiting. She's his soulmate, and I'm a big sucker for that sort of thing. And when New Coworker (I can't even remember her name -- that's how much I love to hate her) drove Jim home after an office drinking binge, well, that's when my faith faltered.
It was a long, dark week of the soul.
But I realized the error of my ways during last Thursday's episode -- it was announced that the Stamford branch would be closing, and Jim was offered a new position at his old workplace. And New Female Coworker would be coming along. And then I saw that the writers on "The Office" hadn't disappointed me after all; they had simply been building up to an all-new level of romantic tension.
I pray I can be granted absolution. I am heartily sorry for my lack of faith, and I'll never again be so quick to doubt the writers and producers who've been so good to me; I'll trust them in their decisions, even if the workings take a while to reveal themselves to me, a lowly member of the viewing public.