Sometimes when I read books or watch certain television shows, I get wrapped up in these fictitious worlds probably more than I should.
And then I have to remind myself about this little thing called reality.
When I was in high school, Gilmore Girls entered into my life. Once a week, my sister and I gathered in our T.V. room to watch one hour of witty banter, enter into the intriguing world of Stars Hollow, and wonder at why Rory never ended up with Jess (he was our favorite of all of her boyfriends). The show always just seemed so perfect—there was drama, there was laughter, and it simply made you feel real feelings, ranging from joy to sadness to frustration to anger to a multitude of other emotions. I could definitely let the list continue, but I will stop there for the sake of your attention span and my sanity.
Although my life was completely different than Rory’s, I felt like I grew up right alongside her because we were the same age and graduated high school and college in the same years (and we both studied journalism). I even looked up a bunch of different schools to go to in the Northeast because the Gilmores lived in Connecticut, and Rory wanted to go to Harvard (but ended up going to Yale). I mean, I actually ignored the fact that I HATE COLD WEATHER. Yes, that’s how much Gilmore Girls meant to me.
I also feel the need to mention that my sister and I started eating smushed banana on toast after we saw Emily make it for Lorelai once in one of the earlier episodes. Judge as you wish.
I recently discovered Netflix. No, I’m not living in a cave or out of touch with the real world. I actually had a Netflix account during grad school when I was taking a film class and had to watch a bunch of movies, but it was the type of account that mailed the DVDs to you, and then you mailed them back. This time around, I can actually watch movies and T.V. shows on my computer or, better yet, my phone. I know—I’m so modern and hip. So, naturally, I’ve been watching Gilmore Girls.
I’m almost finished with the series, and I’m a mess.
Here’s the problem with Gilmore Girls: it sets your expectations for daily life too high. When I was in high school, I went through a period in which I thought I was supposed to be at a more prestigious school. Then, I wondered why I didn’t have two boys fighting over me—or why I didn’t even have one to build me a car or to be the reason I ditched school to hop on a bus to New York just to see him. I also became slightly upset that not everything in my town was within walking distance and didn’t have a gazebo in the middle. And I felt we were lacking traditional activities, such as regular town meetings that everyone attends or an annual 24-hour dance marathon.
Even in watching more recently, I’ve realized how mundane my life feels compared to the Gilmores’. I go to work and come home and watch SportsCenter and then whatever game is on that night. I don’t have men proposing to me or rich parents trying to control my life. I am not in a love triangle. I am not trying to run a business with my best friend or read every Russian novel that was ever written. I’ve never been to Martha’s Vineyard or lived in a pool house and paid absolutely zilch for rent. Simply put, I don’t live in a television show.
And that’s a good thing.
Before my realizations of my lack of story lines got too out of hand, it hit me: I’m really thankful my life is not full of drama. I love that I get along with my parents and have siblings who make my life more enjoyable. I love that I don’t know a town gossip who knows everything about everyone. I love that I live in a place where it doesn’t truly legitimately snow every winter and where I know the temperature is warmer during more of the year than it is cold. I love that I don’t have relationship drama (and I know that I would have to have a relationship to have relationship drama, but I feel like it’s still a solid reason to be thankful).
And I really love that it’s better to live in the life you’ve been given than to ever try to be anyone or anywhere else.
I know things are never perfect, and they certainly aren’t the way I imagined they would be years ago, but they are as they should be. It’s easy to get caught up in wishing you could have things you don’t, and I’m all for having hopes and dreams, but there’s a difference between hoping and dreaming and not living in reality. I love Gilmore Girls, and I will certainly watch the new season that is supposedly hitting Netflix soon, but I’ll stick to the Merrill life of Capri Suns rather than coffee and Popsicle stick jokes over witty comebacks that I don’t know how anyone could come up with so quickly.
Thank you, Gilmore Girls, for bringing my sister and me closer together, for reminding me that I like my life, and for so many other things—especially ridiculously flawless dialogue that never gets old.
“Oy with the poodles already!”
