Think about it: Georgie came to the UES last year looking for Serena's help to save her from the brink. She was simultaneously jealous, intimidated, inspired and terrified of Good Serena and her new life. And what the sparks showed us last time was that Serena was using Dan to keep herself in check, which made them both look bad. But Georgie kept demanding, threatening, begging for Serena to show her the way back into the light. Blowing her boyfriend and trying on her life, cutting Serena's ties to her loved ones, insinuating herself into the outskirts, essentially trying to drink Serena's milkshake. And Serena couldn't do it, because the fever was too hot and she liked it too much, and she let Georgie stay back there rather than deal with things. So now a year later, Georgina -- who is all about extremes -- has now shot past the Dan checkpoint, which was already a bit too far in that direction, right into religion, faster than you can say True Blood.
I think the answer to extremity is moderation, which Serena has learned and continues to learn; I don't think it's extremity to the other side, which ricochet Blair Waldorf inscribes on herself five times an episode. So maybe Georgina meets herself in the middle, maybe she doesn't, but it's endlessly fascinating because the other thing I learned from True Blood is that whatever you think the answer is, it only works once. The second you find the answer it stops being the answer, and we were designed that way to keep us on our toes. We get bigger, not smaller, which means moving from thing to thing and covering all the territory in between, so you can get yourself under control without reaching for things outside yourself. Especially if what you're reaching for is a Humphrey, or an Archibald, because when you use them to pull yourself upright you put on some really terrible damage that they don't really deserve.
So we can believe in this new sweet Georgina while simultaneously knowing that it won't last, because that's how people work. Half your iceberg is always under the water, quietly working against your conscious persona so that you yourself -- daytime you and nighttime you together -- stay in balance. Flipping the iceberg over doesn't actually fix anything, because that just means the old you is down there in the cold water, fucking you up and smashing every ship that sails nearby. What you have to do is get in the water -- and it's so cold it burns, it feels like a fever -- and lift that whole motherfucker up over your head, and look at it all at once. The scariest, sweatiest, angriest, darkest parts most of all. The trick is in believing you're strong enough, and brave enough, to lift the whole thing out of the water, and no matter who tells you that you are, or how many times, you still have to figure that one out for yourself. And you might find that it's the scariest, sweatiest, most feverish people that get you there the fastest, because they know you best.