My So-Called Life
Posted Wednesday, June 02, 2004 @ 12:15 AM
Sometimes I think that my life would make a good coming of age television series -- one full of thoughtful narration that teeters on the edge of melodrama. Like Felicity or My So Called Life (the latter of which has consumed the majority of my day), with a cast of well-developed and subtle characters including The Best Friend, The Worried Parents, and a close-knit but larger-than-necessary group of awkward and unlikely love interests that rotate with each new season.
There would, of course, be tasteful sarcasm, and the occasional slow-motion scene in the tiled hallway of my soul. There would be moments of astonishing truth between the lines of conversations -- voice-overs with incredible, heartfelt timing. There would be those unrealistic moments that everyone wishes they'd actually had -- your best gay friend gossiping with you in the girls' bathroom (without anyone seeming to notice); stalking your anonymous stranger at track practice or through hallways, admiring the way he leans, speaking to him a few episodes later, and finally finally reaching the breaking point with a kiss the week before reruns begin.
I would need to do something drastic to my hair -- dye it red in the first episode (though...this might be unnecessary), or cut it all off (and have ratings plummet).
And for the hour that you'd be watching, I would be vulnerably perfect. No bathroom breaks, no television, none of those moments of lying in my room and staring at the ceiling, of walking by the refrigerator four times in an hour. None of this stagnant dormancy. None of this recent incapability with communication and emotion -- none of the sudden quiet I find myself with among old friends. No, nothing but organic activities that seem to propel me in my search for the Self.
And with the credits rolling, there'd be an acoustic, uplifting theme song imprinting in your mind the fact that you'd been there, watching, admiring some half-fictional character like an anonymous stranger. And you wouldn't be able to get it out of your head.
Welcome to the past, bucko. You're swimming through the archive of rocket-fish.org. If this isn't where you were headed, I suggest you get out of here while there's still time.
If you use a newsreader, you can subscribe to future updates via this RSS file.
