A WORD on Living Your Life As If NBC Owns the Rights to it.

Ok, those of you who've been out drinking with me recently have all heard my "sitcom metaphor." For those of you that have missed out on my hazy pontification, I will elaborate. What is Mary's "sitcom metaphor?!"

My sitcom metaphor was born almost a year ago. At the time, I had a small group of friends, living in the city, and this group was one of my major "family" of friends. At the end of a wonderful summer, two of them sadly moved away and the other began a gigantic job. The only person in this group of four who was going to be continuing about her daily life (alone, I might add) was me. A secret about me is that when something really upsets me, I'll create a joke about it to make myself feel better. In this case, I joked that this "show" about four crazy kids living in the city was ending a successful run. There would be a series finale, and we'd all come forward on the stage at the end of taping and bow in front of the audience (I remember when they did that on "Family Ties." Oh! It was SO SAD!). Sitcoms end when nearly all the major characters in it experience some major change in their lives. But what happens to the ones who don't get a distinct parting storyline? (pay attention, the one with no parting storyline here is me) They get their own SPINOFFs. Thus, in the process of saying goodbye and ending this era, I joked that I was getting a spin off, which each of them would guest star in from time to time. Voila! The sitcom metaphor.

So sure, there was "Frasier," "The Jeffersons," and "Rhoda," (if you don't know who Rhoda is and what show she "spun" off of please don't talk to me) but let's face it: most of the time spinoffs suck. The "spin off" I began in Fall of 2004 was garbage. It was pulled after only a few episodes. The show had a catalog of problems...inconsistency, lack of vision, and unpopular characters from previous years who did some guest appearances (making the audience apprehensive, and not in a good way). We had to fire some writers. It was ugly. The show was cut after the episode in which I got the stomach flu the day after I moved into my new apartment. The network put on reruns of "7th Heaven" in its place.

Alright, here is what I'm really trying to say: at times in our lives we enter periods during which we are knocked off our center and we have to struggle to find it again. I found myself in a position where I couldn't turn to the people I used to rely on because they weren't in my life in that capacity anymore. Since I also moved (note: many months after the old trio had departed) I was also delayed with my own new beginning. For awhile, after unpacking all those boxes and establishing a new relationship with Con Edison, the center of my universe became trying to figure out how the heck one goes about living alone. All of the sudden, I nearly had a one-woman show on my hands. Then I remembered what I have always known: if the way your life was isn’t working for you anymore, well, then it’s time to ‘pull the show’ and rewrite!!

In an odd way, it is lots of fun to think about your life in the context of the tv show formula. You are either a distinct part of a perfect group, or you are the star around which the comedy unfolds. But obviously, you have to think of yourself as the writer of the show as well. With the writers cap on, you realize that you have something that is oh-so-essential: control. One of the most important aspects in claiming this control (when you are using the sitcom metaphor) is choosing your cast. During this process, you might sometimes realize that it is most wise for the benefit of the star (and the audience!) to redesign the cast, retaining the tried and true characters, bringing in some sparkling new ones, moving some from supporting roles to co-star status, and realizing that some belong on the cutting room floor. Not everyone makes it back for another season. In the fall, I was not a terribly convincing star, but I was now determined to make my life something that I would watch on TV (and set the tape for if I had to miss it!).

Here’s how I think my life would play most successfully if it were depicted on television. I’m selfish: I would have two shows. The first show, on earlier in the evening, would tackle my career. Here's why: I don't know if I really communicate this to my dear ones enough, but I honestly have a fantastic time at work every day, day after day, month after month. As a group we ‘work’ as a cast (no pun intended, tee hee HEE hee!). We all have wicked senses of humor, and individually we are all so different (and, dare I say it, refreshingly comfortable with who we are) that I feel we would have a shot at becoming a hit show. Thus, the premise: ensemble cast of 15 who work as underwriters at a life insurance company. Every day we see wacky applications, and we sit around and make fun of them. Since we deal with reviewing medical records, there would also be an aspect of “ER Lite” mixed in with a dash of Murphy Brown, and a side of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Supporting characters (and might I add, unseen!) would include our agents notoriously calling on the phone in all their glorious ridiculousness. This would provide much delight for our audience, but much angst for us! It is essential to note, however, that the audience would almost ALWAYS be on our side. This past spring we changed the set, moving from a small space on a high floor of the old tower, to a larger space on a lower floor in another building. Thus this ‘cast’ joined the rest of their 400+ person department, making for even more plot twists and a set of very shaky elevators (the doors of which Mary, one of the show's characters, crashed into on a recent episode while she was saying hello to a coworker she happens to think is cute--canned laughter). In addition to these hijinks, this cast also uses the corporate gym together frequently, providing another angle. Thus, with the help of the gym’s instructors, personal trainers, and interns, the underwriters get a different view of each other, and of the rest of the company. Inside jokes begin with the help of the gym, and all that physical activity may just start a few romances: the audience is eagerly waiting to see! All and all, the goal of this show would be to smoke the Nielsen’s and have all of America wanting to be a life insurance underwriter. Not a bad idea, since it is a very little known profession at present.

The show that would depict the rest of my life would not be quite as campy, but more intuitive. Yes, (YES!) alright, it would have more of a Sex and the City or Felicity formula to it (oh LORD, there has to be a better example than ‘Felicity!’) The twist with this second show would be that I’d like to write only about 75% of the time, and leave the other 25% up to some well-seasoned, extremely wise writers. This is because I like to think of my life as a mix of entities that I have control over, and a mix of surprises that blow me away. Think about how our lives sometimes mirror what we tune in to on NBC on weeknights: we see characters we love working hard to accomplish goals. When they triumph, we cheer, when they fail, we mourn (but we also identify). We see these well-loved characters get their hearts broken, and we regretfully realize that we saw it coming, though we’d hoped we were wrong. These characters always recover, however, and become smarter, and we always see them end up happy in the end. I’ll return to casting for a minute: our favorite shows have taught us that the people in our lives are a mix of those constants: family, a best friend, a neighbor, a coworker, the love of your life (though he/she NEVER shows up right away), and those who are fleeting (though we may have fought hard to get them their own billing on the show’s opening credits). But, sometimes we also see that cast members we thought were gone for good can come back into our lives in a huge way, just when we thought it was hopeless. That is what I mean when I describe the delight of life’s surprises. All it takes is one episode.

At the root of my sitcom metaphor is this: television shows are created to provide entertainment. Part of this entertainment comes from identifying with each other’s lives, and gaining inspiration. It’s your duty to view your life as entertaining, while making sure that it touches the lives of others. Root for yourself and for your loved ones as if they were your all-time most beloved television characters.