This fanhood is recent and not devout. Please know that; it’s important that I be honest, considering how many hardcore fans “Gilmore Girls” had when it was on cable.
Back then, long before streaming, I didn’t watch it, wasn’t a fan, especially not of Rory’s entitlement, ‘cause she and I were just too different for me to relate, in addition to the fact that to a degree, immaturity created and encouraged a self-absorption and a lack of thoughtful patience that could have given me room to like her. I liked Lorelai better and would have loved to make out with a younger clone of Luke.
The four-part Netflix revival was a different experience. Everybody was older now. I was compassionate about Rory’s lost, immature behavior and appropriately uncomfortable at moments that struck me right in my own bullshit, which made me feel better, because I could use those moments to remind myself of how much of my authentic power, talent and maturity was waiting for my self-imposed boundaries to be moved out of the way.
Huh. I started that previous paragraph wanting to write about Lorelai and here I am. Well. These days, I see a couple of things in the elder Gilmore girl that may well reflect who I am now because, in a way, that character was a late bloomer and I certainly (intentionally) have been one myself, which is a truth I used to not voice aloud out of shame that I now would like to wear proudly, albeit quietly, maybe wit a pin on my jean jacket that looks like a Pop Tart. I haven’t planned it out yet.
As a gift on my thirty-second birthday, I was given a ring that blatantly resembles a blue Ring Pop candy. That’s the closest I get to Lorelai’s Hello Kitty-themed waffle iron.
This fictional woman is a well-known, televised example of how messiness and hitting important milestones long after many people your age are an acceptable part of the path for some humans, perhaps especially in the Western world, and they’re elements of successful adulthood. We have countless options available for lives we can still lead today and instead of being overwhelmed by that as I’m sure I once was, f**k it, man! It’s reality and I’m choosing to feel freed by these copious options, even if I don’t choose many of them.
Recently, I asked one of my aunts about her daughter – my cousin – knowing that the young woman wasn’t happy in her career and I wondered if she might want to switch to a different field one day soon, and my aunt’s reply was that she would’ve done it by now, as if it’s too late by the time one is coming up on their thirtieth birthday. You’re still young-ish in your thirties! Also, I don’t see an issue with drastically changing your career or lifestyle at any time on a case by case basis, so long as it’s wisely done.
I know a Baby Boomer who, by 2018, had held corporate jobs long-term in about three fields since graduating from college in the seventies, and that includes switching jobs within a few months of our making small talk at an event in 2018. In my past, I worked in retail for about nine years and did some temp jobs for M&T Bank, a company that has seemed, to me, to be an employer about which people either feel great or claim no job security, as it seems that the temp-to-hire label is B.S., and I was amongst the latter. I met some interesting people while doing mortgage processing and other data entry for M&T, but meh, I knew better than to hope I’d be hired, especially after learning just how many people in one particular location were temps. I was impressed. Within a year, that would mean a lot of empty desks in one massive room.
Anyway, I long ago moved on from both giving a portion of my meager income to a temp agency and from retail, I assume, and shifting elsewhere makes perfect sense. I’m older than the aforementioned cousin and taking a better attitude, manifesting, writing all are smart moves rather than surprising ones for this time in my life. I have plenty on my plate and shit *snaps fingers* to do *snaps* and there’s no need to live by one of my least favorite terms, which is “settling down”. I debate with myself over whether to shudder or execute an epic eye roll at those words. At this point, there’s plenty going on and so much ahead, I need to enjoy it rather than devote energy to regretting the past! Right, Lorelai?
She and I are caffeine addicts who like some colorful kid stuff. We could joke around while I sipped my large iced coffee and watched her tear through cereal and specifically shaped waffles all marketed toward children. We would sometimes skim over discussing certain adult complaints, like this frustrating problem at the Dragonfly Inn blah blah and this thing that thing, but at least Rory’s going to help make a big family breakfast tomorrow!
There is no handbook for exactly how to grow up. Lorelai and I are each handling our s**t. I’m doing the work to heal my beautiful inner child and build the life that she and the adult me deserve to have together, which is an existence that should mesh well with the life of the nerd with whom I end up in an interdependent romance. My intention with this essay is to get a memory in writing for the future’s sake because I’m proud of this work I’ve done, but it’s also intended as documentation of how centered and light a person can feel when living their life regardless of the standards set by society or the expectations of relatives/friends, and this piece is no small way inspired by a video from some film-loving YouTubers known as The Take, where they focused on Lorelai’s progress in something understandably titled, “Grow Up, Mom!”, complete with an image of a Pop Tart.
Slate posted something about Rory Gilmore that I appreciate. This hit the internet two years ago but still makes good points. It's worth a watch.
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