Nothing can slow your mind to a crawl more than television. During winter break, I crawled a lot. Perched on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, munching on saltless, baked (not fried), fat-free, cholesterol-free tortilla chips, the remote control proved an easy escape from loneliness and work. I soon readily devoured the Delta Burke TV Guide cover story and obsessed over Ricki Lake's Sassy-makeover.

Apparently, Major Dad was not too comfy with Burke's decision to return to acting for those "Designing Women" producers. Apparently, Ricki Lake is much, much happier being thinner. So what if I wore the same pants for weeks, so what if I had a 3,000-word piece due in a few weeks, so what if I read the first eight pages of Crime and Punishment and really dug it -- I always opted for the tube.

Whereas my life was a friggin' Hal Hartley movie, and I don't understand his films, television played out a path that was about as easy to digest as an Ann Jillian Slim-Fast shake. That was until I discovered Angela Chase, the narrator/center of "My So-Called Life." Granted it's a show where dying your hair red means feminist liberation and the Violent Femmes provide the tunes to fuel diaries, but "My So-Called Life" became my life. I even started taping episodes.

Despite the fact that the show takes place in high school, it is not looking to win any popularity contests. Its ratings blow enough that the show is scheduled to be put on hiatus (like canceled for good) after this Thursday's episode. And the school semester has not even ended yet.

Although massive write-in campaigns are under way, the show's demise symbolizes just another attempt at keeping TV ahead of its class in churning out shows that stunt your growth. In a year which the Village Voice has dubbed the "Season of the Bitch," Claire Danes' Chase represents all the self-consciousness in this Newt Era. She's Calamity Jane caught in a teen tornado of grades, keggers and what ifs.

As a 15-year-old, Danes exudes more than Oxy-10 out of her pores. She's indecisive, will she or won't she? Whatever happens, I get sucked in. Granted it is not without a little grief. I would just wish to tell the human exploding zit Brian Krakow to give up on Angela. And as for Chase's preening parents, who lament about missing Woodstock twice and refer to friends by their full names, I just wanna slap 'em.

But that's what makes the show sooo good. You get into the characters, you want Krakow to get laid, Jordan Catalano to get a brain and Rayanne to get a grip on her alcohol abuse.

And the show's lone gay character, Rickie, defies mainstream stereotypes. He isn't Jack Tripper or a kid in the hall. It's losercore for the tube. Everyone on the show suffers from ill communication -- between characters, and characters and the audience. We all end up wallowing along with them.

Perhaps this is why the show is not getting the attention. I don't know who would want to watch such fully-drawn characters that have both ups and downs when they can spend some tool time with Tim Allen or watch the latest talk show. "My So-Called Life" is too complicated for the couch potato.

With a doomed fate, the show is taking desperate measures; it's releasing a soundtrack featuring artists such as Daniel Johnston, the Archers of Loaf and Sonic Youth. In case you have not noticed, Buffalo Tom and Juliana Hatfield have even made cameos on the program.

College rock probably will not save the show. And I don't know what I'll do without it (maybe leave the couch?). Perhaps they could start running the program as an "After-school Special" or maybe see if Tony Danza could play a substitute teacher to help boost ratings.

Whatever the outcome, I'll probably still be lamenting the fates of Krakow and Chase while Burke will be making a third comeback.