Season finales are always the most awaited episodes of television. Writers typically save their finest writing, the biggest surprises, some of the most jaw-dropping, tear-inducing, scream-worthy moments for these installments. It’s the end, so all that season buildup better be heading toward a huge burst, right?
It might be delirious or childish, but my love for television and overactive imagination have made me deal with closure in my life like the ends of seasons: My childhood is the pilot season; high school, the fan-favorite second season; freshman year, the rocky third season that critics loved to tear apart. Thinking back on parts of my life is like watching reruns of my favorite episodes and storylines. You see characters come and go, bad decisions from prior seasons come back to haunt the present and so many more television tropes. This fantasizing about my own beginnings and ends has helped me move on. Seeing characters struggle but always make it through reminds me that the same happens in real life. Maybe certain aspects of television are romanticized or glamorized, but it’s exciting to hope that life will be spectacular like that sometimes. And let’s be real, some shit happens in real life that feels like bad writing. So the season finales of my life, what are they like?
When I was 12, we moved out of my childhood home. I took pictures of all our rooms to try to hold onto all the memories that existed in the hallways and corners of the house. We had to say goodbye to our dog Rufus that my dad had gotten for me and my little sister, goodbye to the pool where I learned how to swim, goodbye to the nosey neighbors that still cared enough to bring over comfort food when tragedy struck, and goodbye to the home that my dad had raised me and my siblings in until he passed away.
Then there was the end of high school. Those years weren’t quite the hell that everyone else made them out to be. Maybe it was because Oxford Academy started in 7th grade and lasted until 12th, but school for the most part felt safe for me. I was a strong academic and student body president with a core group of friends. My goodbye from high school meant having to start all over again in a faraway state where the nearest friend from those formative years would be in South Bend, Ind. At the same time, saying farewell was terrifying because I knew I was trekking all the way to Illinois with some sick hope of escaping all the inner demons that haunted me for years, the skeletons in the closet that I kept stored deep inside. Part of me thought I’d be able to get away from these fiends, but I always knew that eventually I’d have to deal with being gay and the unresolved feelings about my father’s death – and I screwed myself over because I’d be facing them alone, miles away from home.
In the cab to O’Hare after the end of my freshman year, I broke into tears. The driver was courteous enough to leave me undisturbed in the backseat with my sobs and crying. I don’t even remember if I was attempting to be discreet about my breakdown. Saying goodbye to campus and school for a whole three months just didn’t seem feasible to me. How was I going to survive being home? I was hardly the person that moved into my freshman dorm nine months prior. Would my friends at home be as different? Would everything be the same in three months when I returned to Evanston? I just wanted to put everything on pause. I didn’t even want to fast-forward because that would mean heading into something undetermined, like when you piss yourself off by trying to find where you left off during an episode of Orange Is the New Black, accidentally going too far into an episode and seeing a huge spoiler.
This season’s finale is coming soon: commencement. I don’t think a curveball like Topanga proposing to me a la Boy Meets World or a giant demon attacking as seen on Buffy the Vampire Slayer will be happening. Let’s just be glad Ryan Murphy isn’t writing my life, because that would mean some messed-up continuity.
These past couple of seasons at Northwestern have had their fill of surprises, jaw drops, tears and screams. There was the whole "do I want to do stay in Medill" plotline and “how Gabe survived Medill by imagining it was America’s Next Top Model.” After I figured out that I was indeed going to stick with journalism, viewers could watch me track down steampunks for a documentary, design HOMO magazine full of drag queens and chat with adult film stars for a feature on philanthropic pornography. The first season of the college years would include all the craziness of life in Willard, such as the massive dance party in the basement on the night of Snowpocalypse and jumping into Lake Michigan after rounds of pudding wrestling. Oh, and the turbulent chunk of time spent as Willard president my sophomore year and dealing with all those new freshmen and their shenanigans, such as making jungle juice in their dorm rooms or sneaking in giant reindeers made out of pine branches. And you can’t forget all the lessons from both inside and outside the classroom, especially all the papers turned in seconds before the deadline (suspense!). Hoosier Mama Pie Company quickly became The Central Perk of this past season and I could usually be found carrying around a Party Pack from Taco Bell, my signature accessory. And over various seasons I worked for North by Northwestern, garnering attention with my listicles (namely, top bathrooms to hook up in, my prized piece that people still come up to me at parties and said they read it before coming to campus) and eventually serving as editor-in-chief. I even got to harass a bunch of prospective students on camera and faced those demons that haunted me during high school through writing. Then there were all the ups and downs with friends and all the hot mess express moments that have me grimacing whenever I rewatch. At the same time, there’s a whole lot of successes and smiles I love to rewind and think about again. This next season might not be here on campus anymore as a student, but it looks like the series might continue just as long as Grey’s Anatomy might. So what’s in store for the final episode and next season? I guess I’ll just have to tune in and find out.
xoxo
gossip gabe
Gabe served as Print Assistant Editor, Director of Talent, Entertainment Editor, Assistant Managing Editor and Editor-in-Chief for North by Northwestern.