Bittersweet with a side of relief

I have to admit when I read that the Gilmore Girls would go the way of Dawson's Creek and Felicity (fellow WB favorites of mine), I didn't feel sad as expected, but relieved. My first thought was of my suddenly free Tuesday nights. I would no longer be held hostage every week, wondering when the torture would end and in turn, torturing myself remembering better days. (Yeah, I could have stopped watching, but honestly, the masochist in me asks, "What's the fun in that?") To me, the Girlmore Girls was that awesome, pitch perfect best friend in grade school, who turned your world upside down from the first moment she asked for, no demanded, your Nestle Crunch or proclaimed that the world literally ran on the sugary power of powdered donuts. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about. Every girl has that kind of best friend. And just as every girl remembers that friend fondly, every girl also knows that kind of friend starts to get old after a bit. After a few years, her charm and sparkle start to become tedious. Every fresh bite of wit starts becomes a sound byte and you wonder how can you break up with this friend, the one that you outgrew, yet remain steadfastly loyal because of the history. Oh, the history! The rich, powerful history that still makes you laugh after seven years. You can't turn your back on that! And so, that was the Girlmore Girls to me. I adored them at first: Lorelei's fast talk, something I could relate to (a therapist told me once I am difficult to understand because I talk too fast. But I like to think that like Lorelei, those who really got me would understand my fast speech.) and Rory's blue, blue doe eyes and rather charming, large forehead that seemed to represent idealism on the WB. (See Dawson's Creek and The Beek's abnormally large forehead.) However, I slowly started to get impatient with the Girlmore's. They ceased to tell satisfying stories or even have satisfying moments and isn't that what TV is all about? Their epiphanies either came too late or not at all. Amy Sherman-Pallendino increased her fondness for story cheating: ending the episode right when it should've began or worse yet, having the most important moments occur off camera. This wasn't the friendship/viewership I signed on for. I had met an intelligent, witty, charming show and slowly I was getting the slightly retarded younger sister. No, no, no!

Then, in grad school, I had a resurgent love for the Girlmore Girls, thanks in part to Seren, Pari and A's love for the show. Tuesday nights became fun again, mainly because I had newer, more sparkly friends to poke fun at the Girlmore's with. We made lemon-studded tofu and salad and sat on Pari's floor playing with her cat, chatting through comnercials and even sometimes through the first act. Then, I moved away, and I maintained the Tuesday night tradition on my own, but my love for the show never quite regained its full potential. Girlmore Girls now was like a former lover, one I watched out of obligation to the history. I couldn't quite forgive the whole Rory moving in with her grandparents, then moving out without a word in a grand hypocritical gesture and Lorelei's too quick forgiveness of her bratty daughter without the "Rory, decisions have consequences" talk. Such sloppy story telling! Such lazy character development! The Girlmore Girls had lost their craft, and so when I read this past Monday it had been cancelled, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet ... as I sit here typing, I reach for a box of tissues. Because god damn it, Rory graduated from Yale. Stupid, naive, annoyingly perfect, bratty, everyone-loves-her-and-I-can't-figure-out-why Rorygraduated from Yale and broke up with Logan in the same episode. And I can't stop crying. Crying! And Luke bought Lorelei a necklace! And Emily and Richard Gilmore serenaded Rory at a graduation party! And Rory took a picture of Paris' annoyed face! And Doyle loves Paris! Did I mention I can't stop crying?

Damn it. Damn it all. It has to be my hormones. Definitely. No other explanation. :)

I stumbled upon this interview with Lauren Graham after I watched her on Ellen today. Methinks she's pretty relieved the show is over, too, and felt the show creatively just needed to say goodbye. It's a good interview and the only thing to make me stop crying. Damn hormones.

Lauren Graham speaks!

But ... we'd only just kissed and made up

This time last year, if you'd told me that the very last episode of Gilmore Girls ever was going to be broadcast in two weeks, I would have said: Well, that's two weeks too many for my tastes.

But now? That is not a thing that I can say. Instead, you will find me, on May 15th, curled up on my bed, hugging my pillow to my chest, weeping, Michel! Suki! Emily! How will I live without you? How can I sleep not knowing what job Kirk will hold next?

I admittedly had serious reservations going into this season, and sometimes it has been awfully wobbly. This week, for example, the episode wobbled so much it just tipped right over. Folgers replaced my regular Lane with instant crystals Lane, and I totally noticed the difference. And also: karaoke, really? I mean, really? That hobby so hip and happening that even Gwyneth Paltrow made a movie about it, what, ten years ago?

But on the other hand, there was last week. As Luke and Lorelei bickered their way through used car shopping, I found myself smiling almost as much as Lorelei -- because just like her, I felt it. The feeling was back. The fight was over, and maybe, just maybe, we were both stronger for the contentious last year. Maybe we knew each other a little better, GG and I. I'd seen it fall down and, miracle of miracles, pick itself back up, maybe a little scraped up, maybe a little bruised, but it sure stood on its feet again when I didn't think it could.

Maybe after all that, I'd learned that when you love someone, you love them even when they're stealing boats or issuing marriage ultimatums or introducing illegitmate children in such loud and aquatic-predator-metaphor-tempting ways.

So, I'm glad we had this season, GG. So that I could bid you farewell with a catch in my throat. Adieu, darling. Adieu!