“Some will win. Some will lose. Some are born to sing the blues…”
‘Tis the season for the Master of What? to master some pop culture phenoms, first with “24” and now with the recently crowned “Best Television Series – Musical or Comedy” at the Golden Globes— “Glee.” How on earth I have managed to stay away from this little wunderkind, I will never know. But I do have some ‘good’ excuses…
1. I got knocked up with twins, and it’s been kind of a roller coaster ever since. David Mead’s Luxury of Time finally makes sense.
2. After missing the premiere of a highly-touted show like “Glee,” the last thing I wanted to do was jump on the bandwagon mid-ride.
3. I resolved to get caught up on the series… one day.
4. See: David Mead’s Luxury of Time, of which I have had none.
5. Maybe–just maybe–“Glee” would hit a little too close to home. After all, I did join Show Choir (a.k.a. “Glee Club”) in high school. And I also helped choreograph our routines. I even went to show choir camps to learn new material. Please observe (EEK!):
(Don’t worry fellow defenders of the “jazz hand”–I have no intention of ‘tagging’ you in this photo. Still, we had fun, didn’t we? We rocked it, too, you know we did.)
But that could also mean I would love the show even more, right? Since I know the effort it takes to actually maintain a good ‘jazz hand’–not at all like ‘spirit fingers,’ trust.
It hasn’t helped that I’ve written multiple articles about “Glee” and how great it supposedly is, but when the FOX hit snatched away the Golden Globe from both “30 Rock” and “Modern Family” (two shows I watch faithfully and LERVE), I had had enough. Seriously, how good could it be? Better than Tina Fey? Come on.
So today, with sick babies in my arms, I put in Disc 1 of Season 1 and found that I have come very late to the dance. I am smitten, as are O and Ro. I laughed. They stopped crying (in the midst of our familial stomach bug), and I can say with confidence, we will be taking a gander at “New Directions” again at some point tomorrow.
So now I can sing along with the rest of you, “Don’t stop believin.’ Hold on to that feelin’…” especially if that feelin’ is one of joyous nostalgia–the acne and bad hair are now distant memories.
Isn’t it grand to find that guilty pleasures aren’t worth nearly that guilt you had originally anticipated?