In college, I wanted to be an essayist. You can picture it. A 20-year-old asshole obsessed with David Sedaris who thinks he has Things To Say. My future was clear. I was going to be a funny thinker man who had Opinions and Stories and got paid money to write them down. I was terrified to publish anything. But I wrote a lot.

I did not become a essayist. I got into a screenwriting grad program and moved to California and tried to become a tv writer and succeeded in becoming a video game writer. I am a professional storyteller. I write very little.

Before the essaying, I was a gay kid in Alabama. I was flipping channels at my grandparents’ house in the middle of the summer and I found Degrassi the Next Generation. Season 3, Episode 4. Pride Part 1. The one where Marco comes out. That episode finding me at that moment was fate. I saw myself in that Canadian twink and I needed more. I torrented every episode (bad boy!). It made me feel alive.

I need to feel alive right now. I need to take more words out of my head and write them down. I need to publish them so I feel accountable to something. A+B+C=This.

Five days a week, I am going to watch an episode of Degrassi the Next Generation and write a short essay inspired by it. Sometimes they’ll be about the show. Most of the time they won’t. They’ll be about growing up or current events or the omegaverse or my lifelong desire to own a jean jacket and how weird it is that I’ve never bought a jean jacket. I think it’ll be fun!

The more Degrassi I watched, the less I saw myself in Marco. I saw myself in Ellie, but of course I wanted to be Paige. Looking back as an adult, I think I may be Emma? There’s only one way to find out.

To set oneself a challenge, there must be guidelines.

Thanks for coming along. Or tapping in once or twice. Or subscribing and instantly deleting every e-mail. Do whatever brings you joy. That’s the whole point.

See you Sunday.