people say she’s crazy…

Allison emailed me a very interesting question this morning: “Why don’t we get paid to review TV shows?” She also sent along links to today’s EW.com reviews of last night’s episodes of The Office and Grey’s Anatomy, both of which were extended (the episodes, not the reviews. Well actually, maybe both.).

My answer, the only one I can think of and the one I’m pretty sure is 100 percent correct, is as follows:

“Because everybody in the world wants to.”

And I don’t think she was asking it because those reviews are bad. As a matter of fact, they’re pretty spot-on and not unclever. What’s remarkable about them is that yeah, I could have written them. She could have written them. We watch, we know the jokes, the connections to previous episodes. More important, we know the conventions of that addictive combination of Web-based humor and mass media. So when you add all of that to well-above-par writing skills, what’s the problem? Why isn’t TWOP banging down my door?

My answer, this time in three parts, is once again as follows:

Part One: In Which I Blame A Lack of Connections
I have very fake blog-to-blog-to-real-life links to one or two TWOP writers through Miss Doxie, but for serious, I got nothing. A friend recently told me that she was the only person she knew in her undergraduate career who didn’t have some “in” at the college she attended and in the exclusive groups she was a part of. An Ivy League fluke somewhere between the scholarships and the legacies, and that she was still getting over this, four years into her professional career. The key word in this one is fluke. You can’t break into something new without an in. This is old news, but it’s truer than ever.

Part Two: In Which I Blame Society
Ok, this is where my research department would pick up the slack for me (in the universe where I have a research department). Someone recently (last three years) wrote a book/article/essay/rant about how “kids” today (those thirty and under) all think they’re special and on track for fame fame fame, and all totally wrong about this.

Aside: I would not be lying if I said I may have seen this on the Today Show, where Matt and Meredith (possibly Katie, depending on dates) nodded their heads while the little wheels inside churned out well obviously not my kids, my kids are special!

The point is, whoever wrote/ranted about this is right. There are too many of us in the first place, and too many of us think we are the greatest thing since Justin Timberlake, and upwards of than 99 percent of us aren’t even up to par with an unsliced loaf, much less JT.

It reminds me of Joe Epstein’s 2002 op-ed piece in the New York Times, “Think You Have a Book in You? Think Again,” the one that boiled my 19-year-old blood so much that I looked him up on the NU directory and shot him an email, which was probably dumb considering I was banking my entire college career on getting into the Creative Writing program. You have to have TimesSelect to read it online, but the gist is that everybody (81 percent of Americans) thinks he or she can write a book.

Epstein writes:

“Certainly, it is a democratic notion, suggesting that everybody is as good as everybody else — and, by extension, one person’s story or wisdom is as interesting as the next’s. Then there is the equally false notion of creativity that has been instilled in students for too many years. It was Paul Valéry who said that the word ”creation” has been so overused that even God must be embarrassed to have it attributed to him.”

Epstein also makes a brief argument that the drama of religion (the struggle for personal salvation, being unique in God’s eyes) took care of an individual’s need to be recognized and admired by his or her peers, but that as society secularized, that inner need became an outer one.

Regardless, it’s the same story as why I’m not writing TV reviews.. Too many irons in the fire. Too many spoons in the pot. Too many eggs in each poor Web or print publication’s basket. Standing up and standing out among the sea of eggs outside each basket is particularly difficult, given the fact that eggs don’t have legs, unless they are Sheldon. This metaphor is now over.

Part Three: In Which I Blame Myself
I have a difficult time identifying what I really, truly want. Rather than engaging in self-study or meditation, meeting with people who can help me make these decisions (not you, Mom), or learning how to cut my losses when I aim wrong, I tend to attempt anything and everything that looks remotely appealing. This is how I end up with most of the things in my closet, most notable the shoes and bags that don’t get a lot of action and a seemingly infinite quantity of shirts. Shirts shirts shirts. This is how I end up spending a bit too much time with the occasional bad-decision male companion. This is how I end up with many, many types of cereal which I will never eat.

And, most notably for the purposes of this entry, this is how I end up not writing TV reviews, skits, plays, columns, photo captions, or anything else that might be read outside the confines of this blog. I mean I did do it once. (Good God, those are so dated.) So it’s always possible that I’ll do it again, I just haven’t felt in a place to, know what I mean?

Conclusion
Anyway, I guess I hang out here in my safe corner for a number of reasons. First and foremost, you know where to find me. I mean you found me, right? Also, I get to write whatever I want (see angry Idol recap–and p.s., I downloaded “Bed of Roses” and it is not as good as it used to be, so nevermind) and post pictures of my dad eating a corn dog.

And frankly? 1) This post isn’t even that good. I had a lot of thoughts and I didn’t bother to put them together too terribly coherently, and 2) A Whole Lotta Nothing is stopping me from writing TV show reviews. In fact, in some not-too-far-in-the-future universe (Em? Dennis?), maybe that’s what I’ll do. Ain’t nobody gonna pay me, but ain’t nobody gonna stop me from saying “ain’t nobody,” neither.