Forget the Aesthetic: A reflection of Friends and the holiday season.

The holiday season, especially Thanksgiving, just might just be my cheap excuse to dissect the plot line in practically the only TV show I stream regularly: Friends.

If you know anything about the show, you know that there’s a Thanksgiving related episode in all 10 seasons and a multitude of Christmas and New Year's episodes too, and if you’re a superfan like me, you annually partake in the world’s unofficial tradition of watching all of the Thanksgiving episodes in sequence the week of Thanksgiving. This year, I started the process precisely when Sunday night rolled around and was finished on Tuesday... I’m committed, to say the least.

As soon as season 1, episode 9 (“The One Where Underdog Gets Away”) hit my screen, I was reminded of the pure chaos that entails most holidays in some form or fashion. The “hustle and bustle,” as it’s widely known.

In the episode, the whole gang is in some way hindered from spending the holiday with their families. Thus, what I like to call “Friendsgiving” is born in the cozy, vibrant kitchen of Monica’s apartment. However, everything imaginable still goes wrong, and they end up locked outside of the apartment… which means the turkey is caught burning, and the rest of the meal that stubborn, type-A, people-pleasing Monica Geller worked her behind off for tragically failed, which was symbolized by the massive smoke cloud that floats out from the kitchen as soon as the long-awaited door opening happens.

In the end, they look beyond the dry turkey and hallway bickering, and as most sitcoms end, every ounce of conflict is resolved with a cheesy glimpse of warmth and friendship. The six friends still sit at the table with grilled cheese sandwiches and find blessings to be grateful for, despite the scene of disaster, and they’re brought back to the heartwarming reflective tone of Thanksgiving that’s also featured in the other nine Thanksgiving episodes. Suddenly, the bond holding them together stands even stronger and all else around them fades.

Now, I know that was a quick crash-course for the non-fans out there (moment of silence for your poor taste in television), but you can clearly recognize that there’s something in the plot line that parallels many of our attitudes around the holiday season.

Our world slips into a lingering better-than mentality, and quite frankly, it's exhausting. We get so insanely wrapped up in trying to be more organized than last year and making our meals, Christmas light endeavors, or celebrations look better than the rest of the cliche Facebook feed that we lose sight of the spiritual aspect of the holiday season. News flash: Sally Sue's Thanksgiving probably didn't go as butter-smooth as she made it sound.

Inevitably, something falls apart and creates a domino effect in the kitchen, during game night, or before you even start the celebration. Somebody gets the stomach bug, somebody's sweater is stained with cranberry sauce, you later argue about the poses for the family portrait, then someone begs to go inside after the first picture because its 30 degrees, and finally, the turkey's slightly overcooked and as dry as the Sahara because the annual photoshoot took about eight minutes too long. The fact of the matter is this:

The art of seamlessly portraying what's supposed to be the most magical time of the year robs the holiday season of the power of humility that’s married to its chaos.

So many of my fondest childhood holiday memories have chaos attached to them in some way, and there's beauty to be found in chaos. It's not the magazine cover celebration, but the accidentally broken tea glass that creates core memories. We don't remember the ordinary; we remember what sticks out in our lives.

One holiday that I remember so well was the Christmas morning where I opened up my first tube of liquid eyeliner... that's a dangerous game for a middle schooler. Christmas was on a Sunday this year, meaning we attended one of the most favored Church services that only happens every so often. In a Church service that was supposed to be smooth and peaceful, I remember walking out of the door in such a rush to make it to our pew. Of course, when we sat down, I got the infuriated mom stare right at the winged eyeliner that made me look like I came from an early 2000s punk band. I guess she didn't see it on the way out. Needless to say, I needed more practice with the eyeliner. Something about that chaotic memory brings us together through laughter, as I'm unfortunately or fortunately reminded of it every. single. year. After all, that Sunday morning was not about making a grand entrance as a brand new teenager, but about the celebration of Jesus Christ, which is often forgotten in the midst of perfectionists' worries.

So if you were the one wearing a white sweater that spilled cranberry sauce on herself, or much like my dad, if you were the one that caught the flu right before Thanksgiving, let it go and appreciate the unexpected that is to be attached to Christmas and New Year's too. If your ham burns, eat a grilled cheese on December 25th and focus on creating memories and moments and not aesthetic imagery.