Today, she’s in New York. She tries not to come back too often. It feels too much like home. Well, that’s not really true. It feels too much like an empty home.

Shaw rolls her eyes because how lame is that?

She’s fine. She knows she is. Has been fine for a year. She has Bear, and she eats well. Has Root constantly buzzing in her ear.

No. Not Root.

She must remind herself a hundred times a day.

It’s not really her.

She’s been walking all day. She tries not to think about why she won’t go down to catch the subway.

Turn left up here, Root says in her ear, and she does. Doesn’t even question Her anymore.

She’s gotten herself set up with a bluetooth earpiece. It’s not as reliable as Root’s was - the real Root - but it gets the job done.

It’s cold, and she tugs down the front of her beanie.

Shit. She knows this block.

“Root. What the hell are you doing?”

Trust me, the Machine sings in her ear.

And she does.

It kind of pisses her off that she does, but still. She does.

She keeps walking.

She walks until she reaches the stoop of a familiar Brownstone.

You guessed it, sweetie. Up the stairs, the Machine says.

“I’m going to kill you,” Shaw grits out.

Root just hums. “Don’t you want to see if it’s still hers?”

“She’s gone,” Shaw says. “She’s been gone. Nothing is hers.”

“You are.”

Shaw scowls.

“Do you remember what she said to you the last time you were up there together?”

“No.”

Root laughs, and it still sounds so full of life, even though Shaw knows it’s not. It’s just the Machine. It’s not really her. “The Shaw I know would never forget.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

Another laugh. “I highly doubt that’s true.” Root’s tone changes, and Shaw could swear that it’s really her. Sometimes, having Root’s voice in her ear is annoying; sometimes, it’s comforting. It’s always confusing. “You were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. The night before, you’d been using it for… other things.” Root has that coyness in her voice again, and Shaw forgets to remind herself that it’s not really her. “She’d painted her nails again. Just that once, just that night. She said she wanted-”

“She wanted to feel like it was before,” Shaw says. “One more time. Like it was in the beginning.” She scoffs. “It’s like she knew what was going to happen.”

“It was more of an educated guess.”

“I’m not going up there.”

There’s a click on the earpiece, and it suddenly feels empty. Dead. The Machine never disconnects from her unless she tells Her to, but now it feels like someone switched out the lights. Shaw bristles, readying herself for the worst.

“Suit yourself, Sameen.” The voice behind her is warm and bright and full of life. It sounds like…

“I don’t know who you are or how you’re doing that, but it’s not funny,” Shaw says, anger spilling over the edges of her voice.

“No one’s laughing, Shaw.” And then, someone brushes past her, and Shaw has to stop herself from staggering back a step. The long brown hair. The black nail polish. The mischievous eyes. “I asked the Machine to give us some time alone. To catch up.” Root says it like she hasn’t spent a year in a coffin under the dirt.

“You can’t be here,” Shaw says stupidly, and Root just looks at her. God, it feels so real. 

Shaw wants it to be real so badly.

Root throws a glance over her shoulder. “I can. I live here, Sameen. I mean, I think I still live here. It’s been, what? A year?” She leans into Shaw’s space, drawing a hand up over the arm of Shaw’s coat. “Give or take?”

“You died.”

“And how many times have you died, Shaw? Died and come back again? The Machine helped me. We had to make sure it was safe,” Root says, and Shaw sucks in a breath. And then, Root steps back out of Shaw’s space and is breezing up the Brownstone steps. She turns and looks back. “Are you coming?” She shifts the bag that’s slung over her shoulder. “I brought you dinner.” And then she flashes that grin, and Shaw doesn’t care anymore if it’s real. She does what she’s always done in Root’s orbit. 

I don’t know that I have particularly deep thoughts about CEG, because a) I’ve only watched it once the way through, and b) most of its high points have largely been covered, because, sub-point 1) I am very slow at watching TV shows.

But!  I do very much enjoy CEG for a few reasons.  Its musical numbers are deliriously joyful - sublimely silly homages to both musical theatre as a genre as well as the individual song styles they’re emulating.  My personal favorites are the ones that go a bit deeper in purpose, be it emotional or logistical narrative.  For the former, my #1 is Tell Me I’m Okay, Patrick (I’m already a sucker for Bacharach, and this number is so achingly sad but also silly, another favorite combo), and the latter, Textmergency.  Textmergency is so CLEVER, I can’t stand it.  The fact that Rebecca’s journey is narrated by this one-off group of lawyers who in-fight about their terrible puns in the form of a hair metal band, with a cameo by demonic Steve Jobs… is genius.  HURRY UP AND CHECK THAT BUDDHA SCONCE.

Honestly though, all of the music is A+.  Friendtopia?  Stuck in the Bathroom?  A Boy Band Made Up of Four Joshes?  Gettin’ Bi?  Also Ping Pong Girl brings me much joy because that song sounds EXACTLY like the kind of music that was on the radio when I was a teenager, it’s uncanny.

Another thing that I suspect has been talked about a lot is the show’s serious portrayal of very real mental health issues, even though the tone is often light and absurd.  Rebecca’s anxiety and depression is not shied away from, and her inability to confront reality and her own feelings is the whole thrust of season 1.  All of the characters have something that they deal with, that the show addresses both in moments of comedy as well as tragedy.  Paula’s dissatisfaction with her family and mediocrity, Greg’s self-sabotage and drinking problem, Darryl’s insecurity and compulsive need to please, Valencia’s loneliness and inability to connect with other women, etc.  

The depth throughout the ensemble also helps dissolve the idea that Rebecca is unlikeable, or “crazy,” or messed up - especially against her male love interests.  There’s that post going around about Rebecca making decisions that deem her unlikeable, and that’s okay - and it is!  Another thing that I think is important to point out is that it would be easy to write her male love interests in such a way that they hold her “craziness” over her head, or the narrative indebts her to them because they’re dealing with such a “mess.”  

But in fact, most of Rebecca’s flaws have been horcruxed into her love interests, and so there’s no real room for critique in favor of the dudes.  Greg shares her self-sabotaging tendencies, self-loathing yet superiority, and the tendency to overthink and yet still not reach the smartest conclusion.  Josh is similar in aimlessness - he doesn’t know who he is or what he wants, and he’s projecting his identity onto his significant others to give himself meaning and avoid self-examination.  Nathaniel has the same kind of deluded and denial-based posturing as Rebecca, as well as general daddy issues.  And then there’s Trent, who is literally doing the exact same thing to Rebecca that Rebecca did to Josh. There’s no condemning Rebecca, because her behaviors are all mirrored in all of the boys around her.  

Along those lines, there’s also the show’s handling of its female characters and dynamics.  Sure, there were some rough edges initially, through the conventions of the genre - mainly Paula and Rebecca only talking about Josh, and Valencia as villain purely because of a love triangle.  Season 2 grew those dynamics, though, which has been super rewarding.  I love that Valencia is on a journey of her own now, and starting to live by her own accord - and that she’s friends with Heather and Rebecca!  The best.  

I love also that Paula’s and Rebecca’s friendship is portrayed as everything.  It’s treated as the most important relationship on the show, and as such it gets the highest highs and lowest lows.  In the pilot, the show is deploying its genre solely through Rebecca at first, and the audience is therefore gathering information about what kind of musical show this is.  Are the musical numbers only Rebecca, and only in Rebecca’s head?  Or will others participate in some way?  And then… there’s the West Covina Reprise, at the end.  Rebecca sings, and Paula not only hears her, but sings back.  Rebecca sings two lines, and Paula supplies the third.

And sure, it’s still all in Rebecca’s head, but it communicates that Paula is the first one to connect to Rebecca in Rebecca’s world, with her language.  It’s the call, and response, and it’s significant for Paula’s place in both the show and Rebecca’s heart - and the show itself.

So the choice to put this huge conflict in their dynamic is gutsy, because in some way it’s insurmountable.  The idea that Paula can’t be her own person if Rebecca’s in her life is so sad, and the audience wants both Paula and Rebecca to be happy individually, but also together if possible, because the whole show opened up with their connection.  But it’s truthful, and it hurts.  So the audience has to believe that Rebecca can change, and the fact that Rebecca tries to change is such a smart way to tie Paula into the core arc of the show’s main character.  

(This is, kind of, one of the reasons I’ve only watched the show once through: all of the characters grow in such rewarding ways that it’s hard for me to go back and watch them in the process.  It’s also why I’m damn excited to see where the show is going in future seasons!)

The show has made other gutsy decisions as well, which I dig.  It doesn’t cleave to convention - in fact, it usually takes great pleasure in pivoting away from convention and speeding in the other direction in order to wring all kinds of emotions out of the viewers.  Greg’s exit from the show is another great example, in that of course you don’t want it to happen, but you also love that it is happening, and that the writers had the balls to not settle into a comfortable and enjoyable dynamic.  Or at least, I love it.