The Part Where I Forget How to Use My Mouth

Nora Tschirner shook my hand and I temporarily lost access to several basic motor functions. Not because I generally fall apart around famous people—I don’t, particularly—but because it was Nora Tschirner, and for some specific reason she has always operated at a frequency that short-circuits the part of my brain responsible for acting like a normal person.

Two people kept me functional through the encounter: Na-Young, my favorite project manager, and Basti. Without them I would have simply stopped. We talked, we laughed, she hugged me. There are parts of my body I have vowed never to wash again and I say this with complete sincerity.

I’ve had a thing for her since before I could have articulated why. Something about the specific quality of her screen presence—she’s funny without mugging for it, warm without going soft, and she doesn’t do the thing where actresses perform their likeability at you. She’s just there, completely. Which is precisely the problem when she’s standing three feet away and looking at you like you’re expected to say something.

I’m already calling churches about next summer. You’re all invited.