It was a rainy day that one fateful time in the place that had words bound in covers.
To be honest, I can’t remember if it was rainy when I started my job at a local bookstore in high school. I don’t even remember anything about my first day there. I do remember the group interview, though. I sat beside a girl with super curly River Song hair and I shamefully answered that my favourite book was Pride and Prejudice – something that suddenly felt frivolous and silly compared to other people’s favourite books by authors like Kurt Vonnegut and Douglas Coupland. (Especially considering my real love for that novel was ignited not by Austen herself, but by the 2005 film adaptation.)
But my humiliation had no bearing on their need for seasonal shelf stockers, so I was hired.
And there I was. Fresh-faced (or as fresh-faced as a teenager can be) and super excited to have what I thought was a real job. (So foolish, I was.) And then they handed me my name tag. A name tag that incorrectly used a comma instead of a period for my last name initial and further botched the job by putting said punctuation mark in the wrong spot. Instead of “Amy V.” I was “Amy, V” – idiots.
But as fate would have it, my new colleagues saw it as the perfect opportunity for a nickname. I was to be henceforth known as Comma and so, after too many years (and possibly too many viewings of Pride and Prejudice), the friends that have remained since those blissfully ignorant retail days have continued to call me Comma, oftentimes forgetting my actual name.
But it works quite well when trying to figure out what to call your blog.
It’s just me. Just Comma.
Just a girl who has unattainable ambitions of living in one of the many TV shows and movies she loves.
It’s ridiculous, of course, but I have dreamed of living in places like Stars Hollow with its kaleidoscope of quirky characters or enjoying firsthand the exciting will-they-or-won’t-they dynamics that exist in Scranton, PA; but the reality is my life is not a sitcom.
So to fill that void in my heart, I watch as much as I can. I tend to prefer comedies and things that show the lighter moments in life – those moments that everyone experiences and can laugh about and bond over. But when things get a little less comedic and a little more serious (or try to be more serious), I find great joy judging, mocking and sharing my unasked-for commentary.
What can I say? It’s pretty fun.
Hopefully you think so, too.