"There are so many different ways to be connected to people"

Tonight makes twice in one week that I've put on the B-52's "Good Stuff" album. I wonder if it's the weather? I'm sick of the snow and slush, and that album brings up memories of the summer of 1992, when we spent nearly every day at the "beach," and every evening cruising Main, blaring it.

Or maybe it's because I'm watching My So-Called Life again, and I am transfixed by it. My past few free evenings have created a bubble of 1994. I had wondered how well it had aged, and it still hit me the way it did the first time, hard across the chest so it was hard to breathe for a while. I'm a different person now, though, so, while I still love Jordan Catalano, I finally realized why all my friends were pro-Brian Krakow.

I don't know where the show was headed before cancellation. The final episode has so many unfinished stories.

You remember--it was the one with the letter:

Dear Angela, I know in the past I've caused you pain, and I'm sorry. And I'll always be sorry till the day I die. And I hate this pen I'm holding, because I should be holding you. I hate this paper under my hand because it isn't you. I even hate this letter because it's not the whole truth. Because the whole truth is so much more than a letter can even say. If you wanna hate me, go ahead. If you wanna burn this letter, do it. You could burn the whole world down. You could tell me to go to hell. I'd go. If you wanted me to. And I'd send you a letter from there. Sincerely, Jordan Catalano

But it also ended exactly right, with Angela riding off with Jordan, watching Brian out of the window, knowing he actually wrote it.

It was a perfect, perfect encapsulation of what is terrible, tragic, horrific, wonderful, amazing, and inspiring about being a teenager.