Any lover of “Saved by the Bell” recognizes those words, so beautifully rendered by Jessie Spano while coming off her speed pill addiction.
I’ve been thinking about SBTB today, mainly because I watch the re-runs every morning while getting ready for work (which means that I’ve been watching this show most of my life. I was there when it was “Good Morning, Miss Bliss,” and was painfully present when it was “SBTB: The College Years.” Yikes. But does NBC owe me some money for my devotion? A shout-out or something?). I thought about all the times that Zach was there for his friends; how stupid Screech really was; how Slater is…there are no words to truly describe the cheesiness of AC Slater. Nevertheless, despite the campy wonder of the show, it taught me some very valuable lessons growing up. It did!
1. Don’t drink and drive. But if you do, you’ll merely crash your mother’s Mercedes into a pole and survive. They survived hitting a pole.
2. It’s all right to be homeless. If you are, Zach and his Mom will let you stay in their house while you look for a job.
3. If you do become addicted to speed pills, like Jessie, you’ll come off the pills in 3 days.
4. You can skip classes, apparently, to go eat lunch at the Max? And go back to class like it was all right?
5. Screech (or people with traits like Screech), are completely not dependable in any way.
6. Seriously, Kelli broke up with Zach for JEFF? Who was creepy and dating a teenager? Who had zero personality? Really?
7. You and all of your friends will apply for jobs at a summer resort and every one of you will be hired. Oh, and your really rich friend will happen to be a member during that summer, as well. Hijinks will happily and quickly ensue.
8. If you’re scared that your Dad will find out about your horrible grades? You can hire a waiter at the local diner to assume his identity! And it will almost, almost work!
9. You won’t find out that you’re 1 credit shy of graduating until two days before graduation. Oh, and Zach Morris will get to give a speech on Graduation Day. Even though he’s not valedictorian. Or salutatorian. Or anything. Sigh.
10. Speaking of speeches, they will always save the day. Especially if an evil Texan oil baron wants to partner up with your high school and renovate it, only to kill your new best friend, who happens to be a duck, while causing an oil spill. If you give a speech, the School Board will vote against the evil Texan oil baron. Or let a girl wrestle. Or whatever. Because speeches are that powerful.
11.You’ll learn that your principal used to be a DJ for the school radio station. While wandering about within the bowels of school property?
12. People get angry/sad/distressed and say “I’m outta here” before running out of the room. And it’ normal.
13. Speaking of the principal, you’ll get to deliver this wife’s baby while getting stuck in the school elevator. Because your high school has more than two levels. Ok, it could. But an elevator? No.
14. Speaking of said principal, you can just walk into his office. Or sneak into it. Or hide in it. Or do whatever you please, because it’s never locked.
15. Your best friend will always save the day.
That last one? I totally agree with it. Even if he/she doesn’t always save the day, however, it’s cool to know that they would quickly save the day if they could.
I love that cheesy song. Anywho, we built this JournaBlog, and we’re 67 posts away from 100. Woo and Hoo. I’ve been remiss in writing, says the broken record (me), but what’s new? I’m a busy girl. A good friend recently told me to pick up my pen and take to writing, which I seem to be constantly unable to do. I think the problem might be the enormous expectations I set for myself. I keep thinking that I should be writing better, doing better, inventing far more creative sentences and prose than the drivel that seems to come out. And, although yes, I should be better and aiming higher, a cigar is just a cigar, you know? I need to stop the overanalyzing and just get to writing. Like John Mayer said in Heavier Things, numb is the new deep.
In all honesty, I’ve never truly accepted what kind of a writer I am. From the very beginning, it’s been “you’re mediocre; be smarter and better; this is ridiculous.” Of course, every writer is his/her own critic, but I don’t know if I’ve been at the place where I’ve accepted who I am in the WriterVerse. (What I choose to write, as in plot and ideas, is an entirely separate thing). I feel that my writing should be far more intelligent, more creative, more and more and more. Which is why I’m still at Step 1. Which is why I need to forget all the stumbling blocks I give myself and just write.
Best quote ever?
It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them. – Ralph Waldo Emerson.
So true. One of the best things about friendship, if you ask me. Having that old, trusted friend who can so appreciate your ability to behave ridiculously and still laugh at your melodrama and antics–it’s a terrific thing. I have more than one friend like that in my little life, and I love it. Of course, I tend to daily drown in melodrama and speeches, so it’s good to have someone listening on the other end and not hang up the telephone on me.
In other news, I’ve been remiss in writing. I admit it. I get a little mental reminder to do it, and then I…uh, don’t. So I’ll try to do better. Not for anyone, really, since no one is likely reading, but for myself. The very point of this e-exercise was to get the creative brain turning and churning, so I must do better. I must.
In other, other news, it’s summertime. I said it before: we were punked on springtime. Nevertheless (despite my endless irritation with the weatherquacks and their professing of 88 degrees as “cool”), I’ll just drinks my water and stay legitimately cool. Admittedly, though, I love summer storms. Why? Certainly not being caught in them or hearing them (thunder and lightning terrify me, actually, like a little puppy), but knowing that they don’t last long. No washouts. Quick storm, it’s over, the atmosphere is settled once again.
In other, other, other news, it’s Friday. Woo and Hoo.
It’s coming. The dreaded. The painful. The…perspiration. Summer is coming. Or, rather, it’s here. This weekend is expected to see temps in the MID-90s, with heat indices (love that word!) in the 100s.
I won’t make it.
Someone will find me collapsed in the street, my arms every which way but loose, my eyes directed toward the hazy heavens. I just know it. I need to busy myself with purchasing plenty of water and just pacing myself. I wish I could wear mesh in an attractive manner (certainly not the manner I wear it now, which is terrifying and kept within the confines of my merciful, private room). Sigh. Summer is here, I think. Way before the first official day of summer; right smack dab in the middle of spring, which punked us this year and lasted 2 days. Yikes. I might need to employ a professional fanner or something. Maybe the college kids are looking for work. Help.