Before we begin, let me clear something up.
I'm not a baby.
I don't prance around in a diaper.
And I hate Valentine's Day.
People often find that last one confusing because "I" am plastered on all the decorations and cards and yadda yadda...no. Valentine's Day is nothing but a headache for me. People galavanting around, messing with my work, and pretending they know everything about love.
But here's the thing: love is so often misunderstood. So many people get it wrong, try to force it, or deny it.
So let me tell you who I am and why I'm here, shall we?
I'm Cupid. Yes, the Cupid. But as previously mentioned, I may not be exactly who you're picturing in your mind's eye. I'm roughly 6'1" by mortal standards (not that mortals can even see me), and I actually have a fine collection of tailored suits I wear on the daily. No cloth and clothespins for me, thank you very much. And as impressive as it would be, I don't carry a bow and arrow with me. I'm a terrible shot these days and the quiver would wrinkle the suit anyway.
So how do I operate, you ask?
For starters, I don't exist in the same realm as you. Which is to say, I don't operate on your time. Essentially, I'm everywhere all at once, but there is only one me. (Don't let that idiot Eros try and tell you we're the same. He and his Greek friends could all use a little slice of humility, if you ask me.)
Anyway, in place of using a bow and arrows (an outdated--and quite frankly more painful--practice I gave up around the 16th century) I send what I like to call a sparrow. It rhymes with arrow, I know, which is maybe why these commercial companies can't seem to stop attaching archery to the cherub version of myself they've constructed.
But I call it a sparrow because it's more like a little fluttering of a thought, much like the quiet flap of a bird's wing. Little ideas or hints I plant into someone's head to help them identify what the heart wants. I give each person their own sparrow, personalized to them and their innate desires.
But, as proven through centuries, humans will do as humans will do. I guide you, I show you your desires, but after that it's out of my hands.
And boy, do you people know how to get it wrong.
Today, I want to tell you about a place I've grown to love. It's also a place that makes me pull my hair out, but we'll get to that later. In fact, I'm here right now. It's a little place called--oh, hold on a moment.
"Hello, Creed."
"Hey, big guy."
That's Creed Bratton. Somehow, he's the only mortal who has ever been able to see me. We spent a lot of time together in the 70's, so maybe that has something to do with it. But in any case, nobody believes a word the guy says (also because of...things...he did in the 70's) so I'm not too worried about a blown cover.
Where was I? Oh yes.
I'm at a little paper company in Scranton, Pennsylvania called Dunder Mifflin.
Sounds exciting, right? Maybe not to the naked (or mortal) eye, but trust me when I say there is a lot coursing through the veins of these florescently-lit walls.
You see, about 10 years ago, a camera crew entered the office to film a documentary. It was to show the everyday, the mundane, the intricacies of your average 9-5 desk job, all with the hopes of finding nuggets of humor, sprinkles of absurdity, and ultimately, to find beauty in the ordinary.
And they did.
Tonight, after a year away from the cameras, they're all back in this office together after celebrating the union of two of their own (some of my best work, if I may say). So now, I figure, is the perfect time to introduce you to each one of them, through my lens.
Because before any camera crew arrived, I knew these people, for better or for worse. And I have long mastered finding the beauty in ordinary things.
So pull up a seat and buckle in, friends. It's going to be quite the ride.
Story Notes:
As we all know, the employees of our beloved Dunder Mifflin have some colorful and often intertwined love lives. I thought it might be fun to take a look at them through an expert's eyes: Cupid. So (hopefully) each day leading up to Valentine's Day, I'll be posting short little snippets about the hiccups, successes, tragedies, and triumphs of the people working at 1725 Slough Ave. And while I know the majority of these chapters won't be related to our PB&J, I hope you still enjoy reading until we reach our favorite couple's story. :)
And as always, I own nothing.
