It’s taken years of practice, but I’ve managed to virtually erase a good majority of my facial expressions … but only when necessary.  Seems my non-verbal communicative skills (such as eye-rolling, smirking, lip biting) are dead giveaways to what I’m thinking.  Well that … and I usually say exactly what I’m thinking.

I’m not a big crier.  Oh, I’ll have those moments where I tear up occasionally, but only because it proves my theory I’m not a heartless robot.  Well, last night while watching this week’s episode of “Glee”, I bawled.  Not once.  Not twice.  But three times.   “Glee” is usually a sassy, sparkly little show filled with showtunes and plenty of jazz hands.  Last night was no different, but it eeked an emotional response out of me … uh, thrice.

It was gut-wrenching sobbing, people.  The sort of ugly cry where you can’t catch your breath even if you tried.  And the weird part?  It came out of left field.  I was watching the show intently … felt a little catch in my throat … and then suddenly the waterworks started in earnest.   My poor roommate thought someone had died … or that perhaps I was dying (or at a minimum losing my mind).

Wednesday’s episode summed up my entire high school and college experience in sixty minutes.  Minus the teen pregnancy part.  It was tightly written, but left a lot of room to include ridiculous teen angst and malaise.  I relate to so many of the show’s characters it’s ridiculous.   Was someone spying on me in high school … or was there someone who had the same four-year experience I did?  Impossible, I say.

“Glee” is quickly becoming the story of my life.  I watch every week to see how I turn out … er, what happens next.   If you haven’t watched the show, you’re missing out, believe me.  It’s “The Breakfast Club” for us 30-somethings.