Apple marked the passing of its co-founder and former chief executive Steve Jobs Wednesday, calling him “a visionary and creative genius.” In the coming weeks, much will be said of Jobs and how he revolutionized the  way we live. Evidence of his impact can be found in pockets carrying app-filled iPhones, DVD collections sprinkled with Pixar films and of course, the Billboard Hot 100.

Before the launch of the iTunes digital store in 2003, the record industry was facing the unprecedented threat of online piracy. Consumers were freed from forking over $15 for an album with one hit song and a tracklist full of filler by file sharing services such as Napster. Suddenly, an industry that had made record profits in the late ’90s with this model (think Cumbuwumba, Eiffel 65, Natalie Imbrugila, etc.) scrambled to restore revenue by resorting to lawsuits.

Apple provided an alternative when it signed deals with the five major record labels to offer their artists’ music on the iTunes digital store which made Jobs, a man who didn’t even play an instrument, one of the most influential men in popular music history; the “father of digital music” as Billboard called him this week.

It’s back — the granddaddy of all (network) reality television. And not a week too soon, either. Survivor returns (yes, along with the unfortunate Redemption Island wrinkle), with a brand new group of castaways. Brand new, that is, except for the two returning “heroes” Coach (the self-proclaimed Dragon Slayer) and Ozzy (he of the indomitable immunity challenge record), who are playing for their third time each.

Michael Scott was and always will be one of my favorite characters of all time. Some people called him an inconsistent character, but I always saw him as one of the most complicated and wonderful icons of the last decade of TV. Going on without his presence seemed almost impossible last year- and then The Office went on with life as usual.

Those last few episodes of season seven had some fantastic moments in them (read: the entire Dwight-as-manager episode), even if the whole wasn’t as strong as the sum of its parts. After the finale, I hoped that the producers would pick James Spader as the new boss. He was magnetic, in the most disturbing way possible. He stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the cast, and I thought he would bring a fantastic new energy to make everyone forget about Steve Carell’s absence.

Well, I got what I wanted-kind of.

Well, what would you have done?

Leslie was faced with an incredible decision in the final moments of season three— run for city council? Or stay together with Ben? Nobody in their right mind would have thought her to try to have it both ways (this is the noble Leslie Knope, after all), but nonetheless her decision was a heartbreaking one. Even though she and Ben ended things amicably, and of course in their own dorky-cute way, this won’t be the end of this conflict. Not by a longshot.

People never stop thinking about the future. When we’re children, we imagine high school; likewise, in high school, we imagine college. Once college is over, though, and the great beyond of life hits us, we keep looking forward, hoping that things will get better—we pray that we haven’t peaked in life prematurely. For all the thinking we do, humans forget the one constant in all points of life: the group of friends one has at any given moment.

When I was in high school, I didn’t want to imagine life without my tight-knit group of friends. There were five or so of us that knew each other completely, a group of confidantes that regularly relied on each other. It was a strange group, but it was still a family of sorts. Once college hit, all of us went our separate ways, promising to stay in touch and remain close, but of course that didn’t happen. We still communicate, and see each other, but it isn’t the same anymore. It can’t be.

Haven’t we seen all of this before?

Mitchell and Cameron have CRAZY quirks, and those quirks affect their parenting of Lily. Claire is a loud and commanding shrew. Phil is vying for Jay’s respect. Is it just me, or are these Season One’s stories with a flashy new paint job?

Don’t get me wrong, I love Modern Family. It’s consistently one of the highlights of my week, and there are few shows that deserve consecutive Outstanding Comedy Series Emmys more. But something seems wrong— it seems like the show is spinning its wheels, something that “The Show That Saved Sitcoms” would have never done a year ago.

When I started my junior year in high school, I imagined that when I looked back on my four years there, I’d reflect upon it bitterly and with a lot of spite. Of course that wasn’t healthy, but up to that point, my school life hadn’t exactly been rosy.

I grew up in a small town where I fell outside both the religious and political majorities, and my life outside of home was affected because of both. I wasn’t talented athletically, or a social butterfly, but I always had a close group of friends who had similar interests and were pushing for the same thing—to be recognized and respected in the school. By my senior year, I had achieved that more than I would have imagined a year earlier.

Perhaps my trials in high school were what drew me to a pilot that aired after American Idol my junior year, and those experiences are why I continue to have blind faith in that same show — Glee — one that I both admire and loathe at the same time.