You Know You Love Me
I may have found the remedy for self-pity and depression.
When you’re feeling lost and confused, an idiot or a fool, watch Gossip Girl and you’ll feel like freakin’ Socrates or the mythical Self-Actualized Man.
When you’re feeling lost and confused, an idiot or a fool, watch Gossip Girl and you’ll feel like freakin’ Socrates or the mythical Self-Actualized Man.
No, wait, hold your horses. Before you think this is another hate post about the daftness and inappropriateness of today’s media for children, let me tell you, I’m not in THAT mood. I maintain GG is, well, far from a masterpiece of modern television. But some days, you just want to watch crap, you know?
This morning, I woke up feeling happy. But I know happiness these days are tremulous at best, and I wanted to prolong my bliss a little while longer. So I asked myself: what would make me feel good about myself, happy to be alive, and thankful for what I have?
Ah. Why not watch a bunch of over-indulgent kids, who have everything but their sanity intact, seduce and fumble their way through high school? Awesome. My life is buttercups and blue jays and butterflies compared to theirs.
Oh, wait. My life IS about buttercups and blue jays and I used to spurt sunshine offa my arse. See, I’m in a good mood. And I’m starting to realize that the moment I start feeling like I’m slipping, I’ll just slip in GG and I will start singing praises to the Fates for not giving me Blair Waldorf as an enemy. Or Chuck Bass for that matter. Or his wardrobe, for crying out loud. He looks like Peewee Herman on meth. But give him credit for carrying it off though. I Mean, red pants, c’mon!
And as I watched the whole Season 2, these questions surfaced: (Don’t expect something earth-shaking, we are talking of Gossip Girl, okay?)
This morning, I woke up feeling happy. But I know happiness these days are tremulous at best, and I wanted to prolong my bliss a little while longer. So I asked myself: what would make me feel good about myself, happy to be alive, and thankful for what I have?
Ah. Why not watch a bunch of over-indulgent kids, who have everything but their sanity intact, seduce and fumble their way through high school? Awesome. My life is buttercups and blue jays and butterflies compared to theirs.
Oh, wait. My life IS about buttercups and blue jays and I used to spurt sunshine offa my arse. See, I’m in a good mood. And I’m starting to realize that the moment I start feeling like I’m slipping, I’ll just slip in GG and I will start singing praises to the Fates for not giving me Blair Waldorf as an enemy. Or Chuck Bass for that matter. Or his wardrobe, for crying out loud. He looks like Peewee Herman on meth. But give him credit for carrying it off though. I Mean, red pants, c’mon!
And as I watched the whole Season 2, these questions surfaced: (Don’t expect something earth-shaking, we are talking of Gossip Girl, okay?)
If I were to choose between Nate Archibald and Daniel Humphrey, who would I take?
Do I want Blair and Chuck together?
How can Blair carry off tying curtain bows to her hair?
Will there ever be a time I’ll ever look that hot in a plaid schoolgirl skirt? (Answer: never)
Do I have it in me to be as naughty as the Duchess?
Do I even want to be?
Do I care about what happens to Jenny? (Answer: No)
.
When will Vanessa’s role be finally over? I don’t feel the whole Nate-Vanessa thing.
Can they make Serena a little bit more interesting? She’s starting to taste bland.
AND MORE IMPORTANTLY:
How many of my brain cells have died because I actually watched the whole thing?
Aaaah. I love Sundays. Tomorrow’s time enough to think of financial global crises, wars and lpg shortages. Today, I digress. Let’s call it a temporary devolution. Let’s call it, a truce.
XoXo.
You Know You Love Me.
How many of my brain cells have died because I actually watched the whole thing?
Aaaah. I love Sundays. Tomorrow’s time enough to think of financial global crises, wars and lpg shortages. Today, I digress. Let’s call it a temporary devolution. Let’s call it, a truce.
XoXo.
You Know You Love Me.
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