On Being Misunderstood

I got to experience a rather irritating incident of irony today, and I'm not at all amused by it. Last week, I had two clients coem to the Writing Center for assistance with papers "on being misunderstood". They were instructed to write about an experience in which they had been misunderstood in narrative form. Pretty straightforward. The first client was a fellow theatre major, a sweetheart who, amusingly enough, wrote about the assumption people have that she is a mean person. Her writings had some shortcomings, of course, but I was able to understand what she was trying to do and happy to work with her to help make her idea come across. I gave some feedback, I made some suggestions, she jotted down some notes and went on her merry way.
The second client was in the same class, had gotten the same assignment, and was attempting to follow the example of the same writer. Instead of one experience, he wrote about three separate experience that didn't seem to have anything to do with one another. They did all exemplify some form of being misunderstood, but I didn't understand why he chose to put those three together. A series of inquiring led me to understand that they seemed so fragmented because they had nothing to do with each other. He had made them up. He couldn't come up with a time that he had been misunderstood, so he decided to write three separate lies and pretend that they were a part of a common theme in his life. I explained to him that the assignment was not to write a fictional account and that he couldn't actually do what was asked of him if he just made it up. He maintained that he couldn't come up with anything. Because we still had time in the session, I tried discussing diction and tone and attention to detail, but everything went back to the fact that he hadn't done what was asked of him. I was not about to advise him to turn in three unrelated lies about a relatively common occurance, so I finally told him that he needed to find something real to write about. I refused to believe that he had not been misunderstood once in his life. I even started throwing out examples to get him started, like having a text misread, or having someone not hear him correctly. Granted, these aren't as dramatic as having a strange woman beg him not to rob her, but they were at least things that could probably happen. He didn't want to talk about those things. He said he couldn't come up with enough to write on those things. After we went back and forth a few times, I asked him a question that he said he couldn't answer on the spot. I said that that was fine, since we still had time, and went to get some water while he thought about it. When I came back, I asked him if he was still thinking, and he basically told me he would not be able to come up with anything at all ever in life. I was glad when we ran out of time, but wished that I could have just sent him away early for refusing to cooperate.
Fast forward to today. I come in this afternoon and the schedule says that my 3:30 appointment is with my boss...to discuss a client complaint. I was nervous, as I always am at the prospect of having done something wrong. I make mistakes quite often, and, although I do my best to be friendly and patient with my clients, I do understand that I can sometimes be less delightful than many of my colleagues. I quickly review in my head the past few weeks. I can't remember leaving a client waiting or using my phone in a session. I haven't been on facebook or twitter or anything, and I never complain about clients when I have clients nearby. What could I have done?
When my boss comes to talk to me, she explains that a roommate of a client was crestfallen after having had an appointment with me, prompting said roommate to call and complain. Apparently I "belittled him," talked down to him," and insulted his intelligence by walking away. I am appropriately concerned that my actions may have been offensive and try to think back to the appointment in question and see what I should reevaluate. I completely forgot about Client 2, and instead the session that comes to me is the one from that same week where the client's paper similarly had unrelated elements and didn't seem to make sense. I recall the session as having been productive and don't understand why he would have been offended by anything I said. I even remember him coming in the next day and mentioning an advance he made with the same essay. In myreassessment of my immediate history with clients, I realize that I'm thinking of the wrong person. I am perfectly clear on who the client in question is now, and I let out a little laugh.
I laugh partly out of relief that I wasn't so wrong about how a session with a client had gone, partly out of amusement that he, of all, people, had seen fit to complain about me, and partly because the session was much funnier in hindsight when I'm not trying to drill something substantive out of this boy. I start to explain to my superior what actually happened, and she stops me.
"Do you see what you just did there?" she asks. I, of course know that I just laughed, but I don't see anything wrong with that. Something was funny, something was built up, and I let it out. I didn't even begin the story yet and she's already identifying what I did in this session that must have been so offensive. Never mind that I didn't laugh when he was actually there, that I wasn't at all amused by his refusal to follow directions and reluctance to cooperate with me. What matters now is that I let out a chuckle five days later, clearly evidence that I did something wrong five days ago. My boss goes on to say that the client may have taken this a different way and that that's the type of thing that can make a person feel belittled. She also "reminds" me that we don't leave the clients during a session, apparently seeing the one minute that I tried to give the guy some breathing room as further evidence of my shortcomings as a tutor. She smilingly maintains that I "keep these things in mind" before going on her merry way. Now I'm pissed off.

I don't ask her if she cares what actually happened in the session. It's clear from her response to my laughter that she doesn't. In this place where we pride ourselves on customer service, it doesn't occur to her that it may be the client who is in the wrong, or even that I have something to say about the session that might shed some actual light on why this person felt offended, rather than casting shadows of doubt on my qualification to work with people based on an involuntary expression of merriment. God forbid I show happiness on the job. I also no longer feel chastened by this exchange, or even the notion that this client came to the center for help and didn't have a good experience. The fact is, I didn't have a good experience either, and considering I haven't been paid for my work here since the beginning of August I'm not too concerned with the whole "we're here to serve you" mantra that he was looking to feel. My concern when he was here was in giving him things that would help him write the paper that he was supposed to write, and he showed no interest in taking that. I refuse to apologize or feel guilty for making a person feel bad about not following directions when I spent at least forty-five minutes trying to direct him according to what he needed to do. He didn't like that I asked him why he said what he said because he didn't have any answer and he didn't feel good about the comments I made because it was obvious that he was wrong. If his professor wanted him to turn in three pages of lies, she would have assigned them to write a work of fiction. As far as I'm concerned, my only mistake was in trying to help him when he didn't want to be helped.

And all of this comes out because I laughed. I freely admit that I laugh in my sessions from time to time. Sometimes a student writes something funny, or I remember something amusing, or I'm just enjoying the exchange so much that I allow that to come out. I never thought of that as a bad thing. In fact, the times that I laugh tend to be when I'm most engaged with my clients and we're able to make a good deal of progress. If I'm to take my boss at her word, I was wrong in all of those great sessions where the clients walked away with a new sense of direction. While I "keep in mind" that things that I say and do may be found offensive, I find myself in a position where I have to call into question all of the tactics I use to make my sessions productive. Don't ask the clients to justify themselves. That might make them uncomfortable. Don't point out obvious errors in judgement. That might offend their sensibilities. It's like someone just tripped me and the proposed solution is to cut off my legs. After all, if I hadn't tried to get somewhere in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation. It's all quite disconcerting.

In the end, all this experience has done is make me reluctant to honestly engage with any of my clients. If some little snot who doesn't bother directions, isn't concerned enough about my performance to fill out a survey and has more credibility in a he-told-her-she-said than I do, who's to say I'll ever get any affirmation regarding my performance? I hope this client never comes back. If he does, I'm sure he won't misunderstand my contempt.

Meet New Brian, MIOBI Style

I did actually start this right after the season premier. Then I got sidetracked and it ended up witting in my draft box for months. I know it doesn't really matter now, but hey. When does what I write ever matter?


So, the new season of Make It or Break It is finally here and the writers made no mistake in establishing that the status quo breaker, Emily Kmetko is no longer a part of the road to London or any of the girls' lives. Lauren says, smugly, as the three get dropped off at the gym, that it's always been the three of them, repeating the sentiment first established in the pilot episode right before Emily came in and changed everything. Her not-so-subtle allusion to Emily, relating that "other girls come...go" can almost be seen as an assertion that the steady advancement of consistent drive the original top three had, as opposed to the sudden rise to notoriety that Emily was faced with and could never quite master, was meant to be the correct course all along. Alas, it just turned out to be a wagged tongue at any eager fans who might be holding out hope that Chelsea Hobbs would make a guest appearance. Instead of a resigned Emily appearing at the Olympic Training Center after a tragic abortion and a new hunger for Olympic glory, the loyal viewers of seasons past are treated to the appearance of some girl in a truck who apparently hasn't eaten in awhile and assumes that, despite not being on the national team or at all qualified to compete in a major competition, she'll be able to dazzle the judges and earn her spot.

Now, the writers of this show haven't been too picky about verisimilitude since the beginning, so it isn't so surprising that they don't expect this new character to follow the protocal of the gymnastics world, but it is a bit irritating that they don't even have her follow the rules that they've set forth themselves. She doesn't petition onto the team. She doesn't ask for a hearing or try to use some loophole to claim she qualifies. She literally shows up out of nowhere and expects to be accepted. The random appearance of Jordan (the new girl) directly reflects the sloth of the writing team. They really thought that, after all this time and all this waiting, they would throw in a new girl out of nowhere and we, the viewers, would just accept it. To their credit, they did at least throw in that Jordan was some has-been gymnast who hadn't been seen since she dramatically left the sport for unknown reasons. To their detriment, they didn't bother coming up with an explanation for how a girl with no money, no gym and, from my understanding, no home, who'd left gymnastics altogether for a significant period of time managed to get in shape enough to, not only reclaim her old skills, but to acquire a new one that no other (in shape professional full-time home having) gymnast in history has successfully landed, or what prompted her to do so. It was a far cry from the firm character sketch they'd set up for Emily.

The distinction between Jordan and Emily is as pronounced as it is irritating. It makes me wonder how the two would have interacted if that had ever come to pass. Alas, the two were never meant to exist in the same universe. This third season of Make It or Break It is, quite obviously, a half-assed bone thrown to shut up persistent fans everywhere. While the writers were able to pick up the story of the three not pregnant girls pretty easily, they would have to put actual effort into figuring out where to go with Emily's departure. They obviously weren't willing to do that, but neither were they willing to endure another barrage of angry mail from loyal tweens who loved watching the struggle of the underprivilaged underdog. So it was that Jordan Randall was concieved and, in hopes that none of the viewers would miss any of the genuine characteristics that made them want Emily, the writing team enhanced the superficial characteristics that make the fourth girl the underdog. While Emily was a struggling teen of a single mom whose father had left her, Jordan is a foster child who's been raised in the system. Whereas Emily lived in a crappy apartment and didn't have her own room, Jordan has to sleep in a tent. Where Emily's eastern European roots and humble income place her in the realm of white trash, Jordan is (gasp!) black. In every stupid way one could imagine, Jordan is the new and embellished token underdog character. I was disappointed that they could so easily throw away such a significant character. I see with this new girl just how significant they found her to be. It makes me wish they hadn't bothered coming back.

But...some of my best friends...

I, like the rest of the liberal world, tend to roll my eyes when a person reputed to be an antisemite claims that some of his best friends are Jewish or a supposed racist pulls his black friend to the forefront to quash those accusations. It's perfectly possible, we agree, to have bigoted ideas and still be able to spend time with the people with whom one would associate those ideas. Cognitive dissonance plays a huge role in a culture full of people who scream about how this country was founded on religious freedom one minute and protest the building of a mosque the next, who abhor sloth and find it difficult to get out of bed, and I'm inclined be among those people who thinks they can have their cake and eat it too, hold onto old values and still consider myself to be liberally inclined. Sometimes I get angry that so much of the world, or at least the country, disagrees with me.

I keep hearing from everywhere I turn about how this is the most divided America has been in so many years. I wonder if it was this divided right after the ratification of the Constitution or right before the first state seceded, but I have to admit, things seem pretty nasty. In social politics, certainly, it's become a time to pick sides on many issues. One such issue is same-sex marriage, which the left likes to call "equality" and the right likes to call "an abomination that will send our country spiralling straight into hell. Like many other hot-button issues, one's position on this one is taken as an implication of greater matters. Thus, the assumption arises that because I'm not in favor of same-sex marriage, I am in favor of bigotry, discrimination and abuse, while I'm against tolerance, equality and love. The fact that I am disagree with a position that would be advantageous to a particular group somehow dictates how I feel toward that particular group, namely, that I hate them. I find this particularly problematic on the issue of same-sex marriage because, as the title suggests, my very best friend is gay. In fact, a lot of dear friends of mine happen to be gay (It's kind of hard to avoid them in musical theatre) and, not surprisingly, on the other side of this issue. I know that they want to get married to the spouses of their choosing, have that marriage validated from state to state, and not have to worry about ambiguity in matters of custody or inheritance just because their relationships don't fit under the convenient legal umbrella of marriage. I know that not having marriage as an option for their convenience is a disadvantage to them and I still put myself on the other side of the line. Do I not understand what's at stake? Have I been too much brainwashed by conservative upbringing? Or have I just decieved myself in assuming that I feel genuine regard for them?

I have a friend who's obviously a conservative republican, which I only know based on her facebook posts. I haven't discussed her political leanings with her largely because I'm not sure if our friendship would survive it unscathed. How, I wonder, can the person who went out of her way to take me home for months before she even knew me and never asked for anything in return be the same person who thinks that programs geared at helping the poor enslave them? How can I find myself having so much fun with a person who spews venom at the democratic party and champions measures that effectively disenfranchise people like me? Maybe we have no business being friends. On the other hand, maybe our ability to be friends despite our differences offers hope that society doesn't have to mark its history based on division. I came close to fighting with my sister over who deserved favor on a tv show. I considered my pick (the one most like me) to be the obvious victor and the other girl to be a shameless appeal to a lesser audience. My sister considered my pick to be overrated and the other girl to be more generally appealing. Does it follow that my sister is lesser than I, or that she's somehow unable to appreciate me based on the fact that I have qualities in common with the character she doesn't like? Perhaps. Perhaps it demonstrates that our relationship transcends the qualities that she finds so irritating that are to be found in both my character and me. When Kirk Cameron appeared on Piers Morgan Tonight, every gay and gay sympathizer I knew was up in arms over what they took to be malicious remarks and commented on the bigotry of statements to which I could largely relate? Do these friends see me as a bigot? I doubt it.

In the recent times, people have found the freedom to be honest, and therefore reveal the vast difference of opinion from one person to the other. Traditions vary, sentiments, perspective. Like the ever-expanding universe, the variety of positions has multiplied to the point that it's impossible to agree with them all. I find it equally impossible to hate all those that oppose me. There are deal breakers and there are trifles and there are the matters in between that don't have to be one or the other. I often find myself attatched to those whose charts don't entirely match up with mine. Betimes I'm annoyed by, angry with, or disappointed in my bestie or my sister or my conservative republican friend, but that doesn't diminish my affection or my appreciation for them. Isn't that what friendship is? Understanding that the qualities I find problematic aren't as big as the qualities that I find endearing? Isn't tolerance embracing the truth that how often another person is at odds with you has no bearing on the humanity of that person?

This is, I admit, partially a personal appeal to escape the labels I find so abhorrant. However, I seek to escape them because they don't fit me. There is so much more to this life than "us" and "them","allies" and "enemies". The world is characterized as much by its in-betweens as it is by its absolutes. I like to consider myself the former.

Idle Pains

I've had the tendency for several years now to get headaches in the beginnings of the summer. A few weeks after school lets out, I'll have occasions when the light hurts my eyes, I feel a subtle, but distinct pounding, and I don't feel like moving for fear I'll disrupt the equilibrium in my head and shake my brain too much. Drinking water doesn't help, sleeping just makes me less conscious of the pain ofr awhile, and medicine makes me queasy, so I end up doing a little of each for a day or so until it passes. This summer was different. I had a show to finish when I got out of school and some backstage work and some box office work and, by the middle of June, it occurred to me that I hadn't spent any days lounging around to wait for the pain to pass, even when I could. I had somehow missed my seasonal headache.

I got home today (well, yesterday) around half past six after having just barely gotten out of the house before noon for the first time this week and having only a slightly more productive day than the previous two. I realized that I was tired just from being up and about and, by seven, decided it would make more sense to lie down and recoup some energy than try to keep going. I woke up a good three hours later with a whopping headache. Instead of calling it a day, I decided to get a bottle of water and go for a midnight stroll. When I came home an hour and a half later, both my head and the rest of me were feeling demonstrably better. Cautious though I am about getting to used to late nights, I went ahead and stayed up. I'm comfortably sleepy and a little hungry, but  nothing hurts. It may be that not doing anything was the reason behind my pain all along. When a leg falls asleep, it's from lack of circulation. The mind needs to keep going. It feels so much better to do something and have done something than it does to wait for things to pass. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Progress makes me happier.

I has a tummy ache.

Today is ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, and I have been inspired by my inability to control myself heretofore to give up sweet tea for forty days. In honor of my resolution, I began celebrating Mardi Gras last weekend gorging myself to the conception of several food babies by consuming gallons of sweet tea and other gras things. I indulged in brownies and ice cream, cookies and burgers, and one kickass salad with losts of bacon with the knowledge that, beginning today, I would have to restrain myself. My first concrete recognition of Mardi Gras in many years has opened my eyes to two realities: first, that few people who choose to play on Mardi Gras follow through with Ash Wednesday and 2) Eating crap for four days does not feel good.

The logic of Mardi Gras was first supported by the notion that observers of Lent would have to do without certain pleasures for forty days and should get them in while they still could. Eat all of the meat before it spoils. Drink all the beer before it separates. Have all the sex before the chastity belts get fastened. The gorging was motivated by an imperative to indulge. Eventually, however, one is motivated to take part in the holy time by an imperative to stop. I realized by the time the actual day of fat came that I was a bit over it. I didn't want any more sweet tea, any more sweet anything, really, and only continued out of a sense of obligation and a resolve that I would discipline myself on the morrow. By the time I got home to partake of my last indulgence, I had to force myself to consume my yummy brownie and cup of ice cream. Now that time is over and, although my bladder full of sweet tea was the only real motivation I had for getting up this morning, I'm glad of it. The Mardi Gras tactic is much like the parent's decision to make a child smpke a pack of cigarettes after trying one. At some point, you realize that gorging is disgusting and you don't want to do it anymore. After that last piece of cake, you prefer restraint to immoderation. That's where I am right now. I hope it lasts.

It's Not That You're Not Good Enough

. It's frustrating to find that, despite my having what I believe to be justifiable reasons for thinking the way I do, there are people unwilling to allow that my perspective may be viable. Sometimes I don't feel good. Telling me I don't have a good reason to feel that way isn't going to make me feel any better. Expressing how I feel without being shot down does. So here goes.

I recently recieved an invite via facebook to attend the upcoming production of Into the Woods, the same production that I had been so looking forward to being a part of and was not able to because...well, because they didn't choose me. It really just boils down to that. It wasn't that I didn't have the time or couldn't get there or had any conflicts with the production schedule. Those might have been obstacles, but not deal breakers. The only thing that ultimately kept me from being in the show was that the production team decided not to put me in the show. I accept this. I acknowledge this and understand that to be the nature of the beast with whom I've fallen in love...None of that makes it any less hurtful though.

The fact is, there's no composer who identifies whatever aspect of the human experience he deigns to comment on through his lyrics the way that Stephen Sondheim does. (In my perfect universe, he's my grandpa and I call him Papa) Among his works (that I know so far), there's no show that resonates with me as strongly as Into the Woods and, though I know this is only one show and one company and one cast with a specific balance, I can't ignore the implication that this is not a show in which I would be invited to take part. I was first taught about casting that "there are two reasons you don't get cast in a role: you're not good enough or you don't fit the requirements for the role you're trying for". Let's say, to protect my ego, that I wasn't looked over because I wasn't good enough. Do I not "fit" the requirements for a part in this show? Could I not conceivably play a petulant child who placed too much trust in strangers? Do I not sound like I would be in a position to sing "I Know Things Now"? Am I too old? Too young? Too serious? Not to be taken seriously? Is there something about me entirely beyond my control that kept me from being deemed worthy of this journey? The possibility that I wasn't looked over based on the notion that I wasn't good enough, it turns out, isn't good enough to appease me.

No more Kardashians!

So there's this huge new grassroots campaign to out the Kardashian "empire" from the E! network. According to some chick in Colorado who has seen three episodes, the show promotes vulgarity, sexual promiscuity, vanity and...other bad things. She says that the girls (let's call the unit KKK) portray an unrealistic image which is a negative image for impressionable young girls and should be taken off the air. She says that the public have the right to better quality programming. I say...really?

If I took this woman at her word, I wouldn't be surprised to find that young children had no choice but to watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians (and all its offspring), smell like Unbreakable (Khloe's perfume), wear their clothes and jewelry, and most importantly, care about these girls. All of these things are demonstrably untrue. Prior to the inclusion of the Kardashian Kollection on HLN, the barrage of K-themed shows was limited to E!, a network that made Hugh Heffner's string of concubines into household names and considers the tragedy of Jon Ben`et Ramsey a Hollywood Story. The only original shows that this network comes up with are unscripted, shallow, and usually uncreative. Even if this lady's charges against the Kardashian Klan are true, I could not imagine a more appropriate home for the family's escapades than E!. In any case, their being limited to one (occasionally two) channels ensures that the lives of these vapid, ignorant little princesses can be blocked out with a click of the remote. It would be harder to take back a remote from a couchmate than to press the button that will get rid of them. As for her protests that the Kardashians appear too often in magazines and now in stores to simply ignore, their frequent appearances on covers is only a reflection of their popularity and their new clothing line is no more an imposition to the masses than Abercrombie and Fitch is (though their ads make it difficult to remember that they're selling clothes). The truth is, KKK are only as important as we make them and this outcry for censorship sounds too much like a cry for help.

We had a client come into the Writing Center today who took up the majority of a blank page airing her grievances against the center, the staff, and our policies. So vehement were her complaints that anyone reading them would have thought that this was the last straw and we would never see her again. Alas, that person would be wrong. We know that she will come again because she already decided that she could not find any value in the writing center. A few days back, she went so far as to have herself deleted from the system, so final was her resolve to never again utilize the resources the center made available to her. I wondered when I heard this why it was so important for her to be deleted from the system. Our one newsletter had already been sent out, nor do we send out mass emails except to say when we'll be closed on special occasions. The only way her inclusion into the writing center's system would have affected her would be if she chose to make an appointment, which she did, only days later. The fact is, there was something about this place that drew her to come, the same way that there is something about the Kardashians that draws people to watch.

I am not ashamed to say that I have seen every Kardashian show, from the original one about the whole family to the spin-offs about taking various cities. I have picked a favorite, rooted against less favorites, and passed judgement on each of the family members at one time or another. I have done the same with the Kardashian family that I have with the cast of the Big Bang Theory and in both cases, it was my choice. I decided to watch these shows the same way that our patron decided to come back to the Center and these moms decided to have this station on. We have all been guilty of allowing the media to impact us at some time, but there does come a point when personal responsibility trumps all else. For some people, nothing wraps up a lazy Sunday like watching a group of relatively useless people worry about miniscule problems in their overprivileged lives. As unsettling as it is for you, it gives many reason to smile. You shouldn't try to take that away from us.

Without Emily

 I was very excited to find after a year-long hiatus that Make It or Break It would be returning to television this spring. As disappointed as I was in the direction they had chosen to take the show in since one of the actors got pregnant, I held out hope that they would be able to turn things around somehow, given a second chance. Emily, because of her underdog status and determination to be strong on her own, is my favorite character and I was deeply hurt that the show's writers responded to the pregnancy of the actress playing her by, in turn, making her character pregnant. As upsetting as it was to see the one known to defy her critics' expectations fall into the most obvious stereotypical mistake of a stupid teenaged girl, I at least comforted myself with the opinion that, if she comes back from this failure, there's surely nothing Emily can't do. Fool that I am, I assured myself that there was no way they could just drop her. Fool that I am.

The actress who played Emily Kmetko has given birth to a beautiful boy, lost her baby weight, and returned to work. She will not, however, return to the Rock. She confirmed herself that she would not be returning to the show and every promotional shot for this season has been of the remaining trio. It's official. Emily is gone. We're back at the status quo.

I can't express enough my disappointment in the writers for taking this path. Although they had to deal with the absence of one gymnast for a significant time period somehow, making Emily get pregnant and run away was a complete cop-out. For one thing, it completely disregards the ever present reality that she is a gymnast and constantly at risk for serious injury. She could have fractured her spine doing the vault, had to be sent to  special rehab center in the Himalayas, and been ready to train again by the time baby Hobbs popped out. It wouldn't be the most creative solution, but neither would it be so ridiculously shameful. Emily, a girl who never had a boyfriend before, was born to a teenaged mother and dreams of going to the Olympics, decides, pretty much out of the blue, that she'll give her love interest her virginity to hold him over for the next two years. Aside from the fact that it's a completely shallow take on what the network is trying to pass for true love, it completely contradicts Emily's assertion that she's spending her life trying not to become her mother. How does she think her mother got that way? Did she not realize sex was involved?

I was irritated, but difficult as it was, I bravely swallowed the pregnancy addition to the storyline and watched the season unwind without one of its principles because I knew they couldn't just throw her away. And yet they continued with the season giving her less than five minutes of attention in the episode following her departure and pulling in another key player to fill out the foursome. Although they tried to revamp the focus of the drama, one can hardly fail to notice that they've essentially tried to fool the viewers into thinking the show is simply going on in a reasonable direction. It's ridiculous to think that the show will thrive without Emily. Cat fights and boyfriend drama aside, she was the reason the show happened in the first place. For five years, Payon, Kaylie, and Lauren were best friends making up the top tier at the rock. They worked hard, they struggled in training, but none of their struggles affected their equilibrium until Emily came along. Emily broke the status quo. Emily changed the paths of their lives. Emily is the reason that they are where they are today, and to go back to being the three top Rock girls with every expectation on making a splash in the Olympics after all that is to pretend that Emily was never there at all, that the "1, 2, 3" that Lauren said was the way it always had been in the pilot episode really is the way that it should be to the end. That they not only succeeded without her at World Championships, but are now heading to the Olympics without so much as a glance back, is a complete disregard of the impact that Emily's presence made on their lives. Lauren was always a good gymnast, but she never would've pushed herself to get gold against her two best friends if she hadn't felt her position in the top tier challenged. Neither would Kaylie have been pushed to choose her gymnastics over everything else and deal with the fallout from her mother's affair if her defense of Emily at the qualifiers hadn't led her to jeopardize her relationship with her boyfriend. As determined as Payson was to win and beat her longtime rival, her deference and trust for her coach would have kept her from endangering her body in the weeks leading up to nationals were it not for having to prove to the coach that abandoned her that she was still a winner. Everything about where the girls stood at the end of Worlds was reflective of the impact that Emily had made on their lives, and yet the choice to exclude her from the climax of the season sends the message that she was never really a part of the team. All because she got knocked up.

Even though I was angry when I first found out that Emily was pregnant, I didn't see it as a career-ender even though the coach insisted in a discussion with Emily's mother over her condition that she couldn't return to gymnastics, that her body couldn't recover from a baby. After all, Payson had come back from a supposed career-ender to win  medal at Worlds in less than a year after proclaiming that a gymnast has between 14 and 20 years old to accomplish anything. There has been among them from the start of the show the idea that they will only be able to survive one Olympic cycle before having to figure out what else they can do with their lives. Up until now, I have forgiven the writers the occasional liberties taken with reality, but I cannot reconcile their determination to build giants in the field of gymnastics with their determination to place such limits on them. While most gymnasts peak in their late teens, one need only look at the record of multiple-time medalist Oksana Chusovitina to see that age doesn't determine winability, nor does a major hormonal change. She's still winning medals in international events despite having a child and at least ten years on all of her competitors. Granted, her situation is not typical, but what about the sport is typical? The very nature of gymnastics dictates smashing through the glass ceiling of human potential, defying every dogma and transcending every obstacle that appears. If the people that competed adhered to the same restraints as regular folks, they'd never be able to throw themselves in the air or pull themselves over those bars. Herein lies the heart of my disappointment, my anger. Emily has had everything against her from the time she was conceived and still excelled beyond expectations for the simple fact that she wanted it and she fought for it. The show now tells us that she's stopped fighting. She can't fight anymore. Every step she's taken towards success has just been a means to the same end. It didn't matter how hard she fought, ABCFamily tells us. She wasn't strong enough. She didn't have the athlete father to push her. She didn't have the rich single parent to devote all his time to her. She didn't have the loving nuclear family to support her. She fell because she had nothing to stand on but her own two feet.

The show without Emily is about three girls who are very different, but very much the same. Their situations are far-fetched not because of what they do, but what happens around them. They all work hard with the guidance of the coach who was acquired for them by one of the parents. They all hit bumps in the road, but end up coming out on top with people who love them to see that they do. They all present a pretty, but distorted view of what it is to fight for your dreams. The show without Emily is not a drama. It's a fairytale. Fairytales are not to be believed.