Open Letter to Mindy Kaling

Dear Mindy,

I hope this letter finds you well. 

I’m a big fan of both your show and your book.  (Okay, well, the first chapter of your book that I read when my roommate took it out from the library.  It’s on my to-read list, though, I swear.)  I’m writing because I’ve made it my life goal to be on The Mindy Project.  Some might call that a pipe dream, but this is America, where dreams come true.  …At least 5% of the time. 

I think I’ve got something the show hasn’t seen yet: mediocrity.  There’s Mindy, who is super smart and unbelievably well-dressed.  There’s Dr. Reed, who has that accent that just about kills all American women.  Peter with his smolder; Morgan, who is wonderfully weird.  Casey is in tune with God.  And Danny basically is a god.  Even Betsy is exceptional in the field of optimism.

Everybody’s got something, whether it’s a strength or just a stand-out characteristic.  We haven’t seen someone who isn’t special. 

I can be that someone.  I’m terrifically ordinary.  Really average. 

I didn't actually see this movie.  Regular people don't watch Academy Award winners.

Let me give you some examples.

My usual outfit is boot cut jeans and some sort of plain shirt.  Boot cut jeans.  If that’s not “regular,” I don’t know what is. I watched that Dennis Quaid movie, Yours, Mine, and Ours, and actually enjoyed it.  This wasn’t when I was a kid.  This was yesterday.  So average!  So boring!  Admittedly, I did graduate college.  I guess that could be considered great, but I didn’t do so with a 4.0 gpa.  Oh no siree.   I wore that gown proudly as I looked at my 2.4 gpa. 2.4.  I’m not certain, because, of course, I’m not exceptional at math and statistics, but I think a 2.4 might even be below average.  I don’t have any one hobby that stirs my soul.  I’m that person that does a million hobbies but doesn't excel at any of them.  You know, “jack of all trades, master of none.” 

Now, I must be honest.  My mediocrity also shines when I try to act.  In junior high I was in a play… I couldn’t even land a character with a name.  Because of this, I think I’d be most useful on The Mindy Project if I just kinda stood there.  Maybe say a little something every now and then.  Most of the time I make jokes that aren’t even funny.  (ex. I work with kids, and after one boy told me how he was “super duper good” at board games, I declared him an “ex-board-inaire.”  Like extraordinaire… with board games.  Get it?)  Sometimes my jokes are okay.  (ex. Asking my friend and coworker if she wanted to become a TEAcher because she loves tea so much.)  But once in a while, man, I can really kill it.  In fact, the proudest moment of my life thus far involves a funny.  FUNNY. 

My friend and I were in Borders (this was before capitalism killed it it went out of business), perusing the Ancient Greek and Roman section.  We saw a collection of Euripides’ plays and got really excited because we had read them in school, so I suppose we felt smart or something.  I don’t know.  But anyway, I picked up the book and flipped quickly through the pages.  I looked at the cover again.  “Euripides,” I thought.  “What a strange name.  I wonder how they came up with these names.  Euripides.  You-rip-a-deeze.”  And then, in a rare moment of brilliance, I held the book up to my friend and said, “Hey, Dana, Euripides pages, you buy-a da book!”  (If you’re not laughing, I promise, it’s due to my inability to convey jokes through writing.  Stuff was funny.)*

And so that’s what I can offer.  I can bring to The Mindy Project what no one else has.  I can be boring.  I can be average.  I’m so good at being average.  I don’t mean this in a self-deprecating way.  Not just anybody can be ordinary.  No.  Not Obama, not Lady Gaga, not Peyton Manning.  Okay, scratch Peyton.  My point is, I can bring a breath of fresh, ordinary, not special smelling air to the show. 

Sounds like an okay idea, right?

Thank you,

Charlotte 

(To all three of the people I know read this blog:  I always show a few of my friends these posts before sharing the link.  The feedback on this has been that it's "well written, funny, and definitely maybe will capture the attention of people."  But, they've also expressed concern over my self-loathe.  So, I will do that which I do not want to do and admit that I know there are good things about me.  1. I'm fucking hilarious.  (*Euripides pages...)  2. I'm a fair writer.  I'm not great, but I think I can be one day.  3. I'm nice.  4. When waxed, my eyebrows are just lovely.  LOVELY.  See?  Okay?  Not swimming in self doubt over here.  All is well.)

__
Charlotte