*disclaimer: this story contains some spoilers
Senior year hit. And boy did it pummel in at the speed of a category four hurricane. College Applications. AP courses. Document after document of 400 word supplementals talking about me, me and nothing but ME. Friendship insecurities. Weekly I-got-a-C-my-life-is-over meltdowns. All of these stresses seemed to conglomerate into a single anxiety-ridden mess. Panic attacks became the new vogue for me–until I checked into the Independence Inn; until Ms. Patty’s voice became the only source of gossip I needed in my life; until I became a [pseudo] resident of Stars Hollow.
Films, literature, television tend to provide a temporary lull in the dreary face of
life. And Gilmore Girls did me that service, three months into my last year of high school.
Instead of anxiously brooding over that awful test grade in Latin AP, I transferred that energy into wondering if Luke and Lorelai would finally get together; if Rory would choose her life-long love–Harvard–or Richard’s beloved alma mater–Yale. Better yet, instead of allowing Calculus to limitlessly baffle me, my main source of confusion was why 18-year-old Dean would possibly decide to get married to the just as young Lindsey.
Suffice to write, Gilmore Girls has become my break in a rather tumultuous senior year. As college decisions start to unleash in a matter of days and given I am currently watching season four, The Dragonfly Inn better open soon so I can book a reality-free stay.