Unemployment and a new Netflix subscription go together like no other. If ever there were two things destined to be together, it would be unemployment and Netflix. My days go by with unexpected rapidity, disappearing almost as soon as they begin. I start the day with a trip to the gym, a couple of calls to unemployment, a few resumes sent out and then– NETFLIX. In the last few days alone, I have watched the first eighteen episodes of Ally McBeal; Ms. McBeal being the true reason for this post. I was only 10 when the show first aired and not much interested in legal dramas, afterall Ally Mcbeal can in no way compare to Reptar, Skeeter or, dare I say it, Tommy Pickles. Having grown up a little(and I stress a little), I have turned my attention to the courtroom.
Drop Dead Diva first sparked my interest in the law (television’s version of the law). After having seen how exciting and funny and glamorous lawyers can be, my immediate response was to go to law school! I then remembered that if I were to become a lawyer, I would actually have to study things and I’ve never been so good at that but the true deterrent was that real lawyers don’t become famous and well-loved nor do they break out in song and dance in the middle of open court (to my knowledge). Shame. That was the only real draw. But I digress. After falling in love with Diva, I remembered the Ally McBeal craze in the late 90’s. If it was so big then, maybe I should check it out now. And so grew a new obsession.
The quandary with Ally McBeal is that, as the title character, Ally is whom I hate most. For those of you who have not seen the show, I will explain. The woman is totally and completely insane and yet they allow her to practice law! She has hallucinations daily and interacts with them as if they were real. SHE DOES THIS IN FRONT OF COWORKERS. IN HER OFFICE. IN A COURT OF LAW! Would someone like to explain to me how this is endearing?
Perhaps I get so offended because I see myself in her neurotic nature. I wonder often if this is how people see me. I admit that I daydream frequently. I visualize things all the time and even occasionally talk to myself. I was once told by an old professor of mine that I “am a neurotic mess who does not know how wonderful she really is.” Good lord, I am Ally McBeal. I see myself in her outlandish behavior, her quick temper, her infatuation with (and simultaneous fear of) love and yes, even her hallucinations. At least mine don’t involve dancing babies and the “Ooga Chaka” song.
Look at us. Twins. I suppose that after having come to this realization I should be relieved. I can’t expect anyone else to like me if I don’t like Ally Mcbeal, I mean, myself. (Yes…myself). If a neurotic mess like Ally McBeal can be loved my millions, why can’t I? I can be totally quirky and off-the-wall and feisty! Look out, world– you’ve got another crazy, insecure, neurotic mess about to become the love of your life.
P.S- To be fair, I still love the show. It’s worth watching if only for the supporting characters who are fantastically developed and more than lovable. (Look out for the Biscuit, he’s my favorite!)