Do you ever wish you could unwatch your favorite show, just to have the experience of seeing it again for the first time?
Gilmore Girls and Friends are my old standbys, my comfort TV to turn on in the background like a warm blanket for the soul. I was desperate for another classic--a show not as fleeting as the crime-y, grime-y, sleazy stuff everyone seems to have coming out their ears.
Lo and behold, I found Felicity.
Fun fact: Felicity aired on my 6th birthday, September 29, 1998.
Although the pace of the show is nothing to be compared with my beloved Gilmore Girls, I'm addicted to the relationships and friendships that form, and the harkening back to college days.
One particular line stuck with me from an early episode. Felicity and Julie were fighting on the subway, and it broke down. Finally, an old man argued, maybe they weren't best friends in the first place.
He said, "Best friends don't choose, best friends BECOME."
This struck me in the context of friends, but also pulled me back to why I created this blog in the first place. I meant for it to be a space for words describing everything in between that bright-eyed beginning and the montage at the end. It was a space for inhabiters of The Middle, the ones who can't quite see past a faint light beyond their feet, but trust that the path will be lit just before they need to veer left, or hop over a proverbial boulder.
Meanwhile, I've been stuck in the mindset of everything I'm not doing, the things I can't get to or haven't reached yet. My eyes have been staring and squinting up ahead, even though I can't see in the darkness. I've wanted to skip The Becoming.
You can choose to be a teacher, but you have to become an educator.
You can choose to set on a path of writing, but you become a writer by doing it daily--even when it's hard, even when it's crap, even when nobody is listening.
You can choose to spend time with someone, but you become friends through a series of shared experiences, struggles, and proximity.
You can choose to share your life with your love, but you become husband and wife through a journey of lessons learned, expectations shared, and making that same choice not just once, but everyday.
The Becoming is awkward. It's painful. It's tedious. You get blisters, stain your notebook with tears, spill coffee, and take leaps of faith. But just as my sometimes excruciatingly obnoxious fitness trainers tell me, Skip the pain if you want to skip the results.
The only way out is through, and often the only way to is through, as well.