Monday, May 15, 2006

I abuse hyphens when I blog and cry

I'm sure every water cooler that is near a place of employment where females work (and select quality mens) will be abuzz with chatter about the finales of Grey's Anatomy.

Or as I prefer to call it: "the-two-hours-of-television-wherein-I-
either-couldn't-breathe-or-wanted-to-cry-or-kill-myself-
and-I-chose-door-number-two-the-crying-that-would-not-stop."

SERIOUSLY NOW. There will be recap after recap online I am sure so I speak to you who watched it. People are going to talk the whole episode through. Blah blah blah.

Here's what I cannot get past.

You knew that somehow, Denny wouldn't survive. He was a goner the minute he decided to flirt with Izzie and his fate was sealed when he signed those DNR papers. GONER. He made it through the surgery and he and Izzie were supposed to have overly-stimulated-but-under-performing hearted children. I was always interested in their story line-- their love story.

Perhaps, because-- I AM IZZIE (though um, less crazed. Only slightly crazed. I pinch). I understand why she does things. I get her follow-my-gut, then perhaps my uterus, and THIRDLY the brain. Her crazed, ridiculous, illogical, impractical decisions are ones that beg my empathy. I understand why she cut that cord all the while shrieking like a banshee, and I understand why they found her wrapped around his dead body in a prom dress. I UNDERSTAND WHY SHE IS CRAZY. She ignores her brain and follows her heart around like a dumb dog who always wakes up wondering if today is the day that they'll get that steak for breakfast. So to have that dream that she finally allowed herself to visualize just broke my functioning-but-murmur-y heart into about a thousand pieces. She puts herself out there ONLY when her heart tells her so because you don't trust people until they worm their way into it. You may think that you can make lists about how people act, reason with them when they are irrational, and tell them what they should do but who is practical, stable and rational all of the time?

I sobbed like a blubbering fool for the last 20-25 minutes of the season finale. I sobbed because the writers wanted me to. I fell for their every trap because this episode had traps for EACH CHARACTER. This wasn't a game of "which girl from sex and the city are you" and how that corresponds to what you'd mess up in your life by your forties.

This episode had something for EVERY Chief, Dr. Bailey, Mer/Der, Addison, George, Callie, etc-- even Alex. If you identify in SOME sense with ANYONE on that damn show, you cried your eyes out for them tonight. FOR EVERYONE-- the other shoe dropped.

And I cried my eyes out for Izzie, because she was [--------] that close to thinking she had everything in the bag. Denny's surgery went well. They were going to get married. But behind door number three was a stroke. Blood clots. And a dinette set.

But instead, life threw her a curveball. I'm constantly watching for these. Like right now. Everything is great. My lame-ass job is almost done, a new one on the way, my relationships are in working order, my family is all here and healthy-- when is my other shoe going to drop? Who is going to die? Who is going to leave? Who is going to push me around? What is going to go wrong?

This is where I have completely immature problems. I cannot exactly separate fact and fiction in my brain after heart processes it. When I was watching this show, my niece has cancer, my boyfriend is dead, my boyfriend got shot, my girlfriend just shagged another dude in a hospital room, and I just let big secrets fall out of my fabulous latina-mouth on my skinny bad-haircutted-man-toy.

I understand this show is General Hospital with better writing at night. I understand these characters are FAKE, and that Ellen Pompeo has bigger fish to fry than McDreamy (more like McEating-Disorder.) But I cannot separate the emotional flogging that I just endured from my cozy apartment with all its ducks in a row. Instead I am here stuffing as much KT Tunstall and Amos Lee as I can into my ears and will probably go to bed with a sinking "you-watch-too much-television-and need-to-kill-off-some-excess-imagination-no-I-MEAN-it-this-time" feeling.

....Sssoooooooo when does season 3 start? I'm a glutton for punishment!




2 comments:

Runjit Chandra said...

Kat...have you met Katie. You two have A LOT to talk about!!!

ElisaRocks said...

Ok - The part where they put the dog to sleep. Oh man.