amateur sleuth

I planned on dedicating the month of March to an entirely different Ginger, but with my recent reacquaintance and, therefore, re-obsession with My So-Called Life, I couldn’t bear putting this off another month. Especially since I’m only a few episodes away from its series finale; by the time April gets here, my excitement over Angela Chase would’ve been a sort of memory.

Not that she ever fully leaves me – or anyone. She’s the type of character you can relate to throughout your entire life, and I’ve just now come to learn that. As I said on Twitter, the show was officially cancelled on my eleventh birthday. We spend the first several years of our lives not understanding much, which leaves us unafraid of everything. Once we recognize that others see us differently, our fucking lives are over, you know? Every movement and decision from then on affects every version of ourselves and how the people around us perceive their respective versions of ourselves. By the time I was eleven years old, of course, I was in full-on “aware of myself and everyone around me mode”, but I wasn’t even close to feeling the amount of turmoil fifteen-year-old Angela felt. I understood it was coming, though. And as I watched the reruns on MTV in the years following, and found myself in teenagerdom, it was nice knowing I wasn’t alone in my angst.

The show and characters faded, though, and I had to make it through the remainder of my formative years feeling completely stupid compared to the characters on Dawson’s Creek (which was, like, supposed to be kind of a continuation of a MSCL-type, yes?). We didn’t have that large a vocabulary or deal with the amount of adult things they did (or, at least I didn’t). I was much happier following Buffy around. She was my new Angela Chase. Not necessarily popular, not necessarily a total outcast. She got the guys she wanted, but she felt like a total dummy around them anyway. She was equal parts tough, and vulnerable to the high level of emotion teenagers feel when they’re, you know, teenagers.

But now I’m twenty-five and going through a whole slew of new angst. The quarter-life crisis, if you will (I mean, you did read this, right?). I think from age twenty-three until, I’m guessing (hoping?!?!), thirty, it’s the second round of teenager. Most of us are finished college (oops! on my part) and thrown into this “real world” that is nothing like what we’ve been preparing for. Instead of worrying about failing that geometry midterm (because we’ve been skipping reviews to makeout with Jordan Catalano in the boiler room), we’re worrying about just getting a fucking job we can stand at all. We still have strange and awkward and strained relationships with old friends who we fight to keep in our new lives, no matter if they fit or not, because we just fucking love them. Our parents are still our parents, and we’re not really that grown up at all compared to them.

My So-Called Life is the just about the most dramaticly-written television show I’ve ever watched. The leaning, the sighing, the pauses, the uncontrollable emotion – quote after quote of the deepest, but at the same time, most over-the-top dialogue and monologue ever assembled. But no matter how much you chuckle along to the crushing, end-of-the-world lines, they fucking touch your heart, man! They really speak truth. I’ve joked about making a book of My So-Called Life quotes, and I think I might take myself up on that idea. Obviously, I wouldn’t sell said book (copyright, y’all), but I might re-watch the series (again), take notes, and pretty it up into a physical, tangible book through blurb.com. I need this in my life!

Anyway, I feel like I’ve talked about everything surrounding Angela Chase and not really her, as a character. I mean, she’s my Ginger, after all, the show isn’t. But the show is her, you know? She narrated (almost) the entire series. It was from her perspective (almost) the entire time. She lived the show, and I lived it along with her (and continue to do so). And, I know she’s not even a natural redhead, but whatever. I’ll allow it.

(I’m really shit at finishing things sometimes, which is why this entry just kind of trails off and turns to nothing. Sorry.)