Hello. I love you a lot and I’m glad to see you right now as you screw up your face trying to get through another blogpost. ❤
For the whole of this week, I’ve just felt like there has been so. Much. Serious. Talk on this blog for the past few weeks. Wars and deaths and college and existential crises- ugh. Let’s just shake it all off like a dog shakes off the flower petals raining down from the cherry tree in whichever season cherry trees shed their petals. Go on. Do it. Wiggle around in your chair or bed or toilet seat. Wiggle those arms, wiggle that back, wiggle that booty. Every freaking day we read about these terrible things happening all over the world- all these terrible things people do to one another, and the sadness, the fear, the grime just settles over us like coal dust. Come, let us wiggle to our hearts’ content so we can shake it all off and start a dance party.
*wiggles around a bit* There. That was satisfying, innit?
Now that we’re all shook, I’d like to talk to you about something incredibly important. (Trust me. This is about a fandom, and if you know anything about fandoms at all, you know that this could be life-changing.)
Those of you who’ve been around her for a while will know that I like TV shows. I really like TV shows. I like watching them and analysing them and lusting over them. I like talking about them and sometimes, I like crying over them on this blog. That’s what I’m going to do now. I’m going to cry over my latest squeeze, and you’re going to join me, in a byootiful explosion of kittens and rainbows.
Every few months I come up with this really intense, really heartfelt post about why I love a certain show- why it is my lifeblood and why I’m convinced that everyone in my immediate physical and emotional vicinity needs to watch it immediately or the world will blow up into little bits of fluff and pancake batter. The answer to why the actual show in question changes every time is complicated- to put it in short, the reason why I loved that show seems to go missing every freaking time and I, heartbroken, cry myself to metaphorical sleep and move on. Look at The Vampire Diaries- to be honest I’m not completely sure why I liked that show in the first place, apart from the fact that it was very polished in its presentation. (Except the hospital set. Why do hospital sets suck so much, even on hospital shows?) The cast that made me love Grey’s Anatomy broke up, Supernatural went so wildly off the rails it’s probably in Antarctica by now and I’m not even going to talk about the third season of Sherlock- that pain is still too fresh.
Now, as a combination of bad luck, karma and an anarchical universe would have it, recently I ended up being a show-less-Bohemian for about four months. Four Months. Do you know how hard that is? The condition should have an official rehab option. It’s not when your show is in hiatus- although god knows that is torture enough. It’s when your show goes missing, and takes a piece each of your heart and soul with it.
Following this cataclysm, very soon I became what I have now grandiosely titled “the Scavenger”- I was, for lack of a better-fitting expression, scavenging the dead entrails of several TV shows to find my niche. I tried American Horror Story and was unimpressed (especially after the debacle that was “Coven”); shows that base themselves on the shock factor, filling themselves with gratuitous violent and nudity for literally no reason, fill me with something like disgust. I tried Homeland: damn good show, but its portrayal of Islam made me highly uncomfortable on occasion, and since this was a major part of the plot development, I couldn’t bring myself to continue. It is, however, one of the BEST made shows on television right now and y’all should totally give it a watch. The same goes for Orphan Black, although in this case I couldn’t carry on because of weird show timings and even worse wifi connectivity.
At this point, I was beginning to feel and look like a lost cat: you know, dusty, wild-eyed, mewing constantly, jerking irritably, occasionally yowling at the midnight moon. I was staying up until 3 am, blearily scouring the depths on the Internet verse to find something- anything- that could get me out of this, and getting a gigantic middle finger from the Universe every single time. I probably would have continued perpetually into this show-less-coma, slowly but surely melting into a puddle of sobbing fangirl jelly, had I not finally broken down in despair at my body’s screaming need for survival. Three days into the crisis, I turned to the one show I had avoided so far, simply because literally everyone I know had shrieked at me to watch it. You don’t understand how much my inner hipster cried when I clicked the “play” button for Game of Thrones.
I will say it baldly: I couldn’t stomach it. I ended up giving it up almost immediately after the first episode. The last few seconds made my insides shrivel up in horror and sadness and anger and only the admittedly compelling pull of wanting to know Tyrion Lannister and Jon Snow’s fate can make me give it another try at this point. It would seem that within the space of an hour I lost my heart to the Bastards. When I grow up I’m totally starting a heavy-metal band with that name in their honour. (Sign up to join in the comments below.)
Also, can I just add: the sex. The sex is good. Don’t lie: you all think it.
I also had this weird little tryst with House when I literally watched like ten episodes per day, but then- get this- I began to get so disturbed, while I violently disagreed with House’s philosophical pronouncements, that soon it began to upset me more than it gave me pleasure. I love watching Holmes adaptations, but it annoys me immensely when people focus so completely on how bitchy he can be, and completely ignore the kinder, generous visionary in him. Holmes is a complex character and dumbing him down to a stereotype to create your Byronic hero is just freaking unacceptable. If House was a real person, he’d possibly be the most bitter, hateful, ignorant man I’d ever meet- and I don’t think that’s how I’m supposed to feel about the main character of a show. I was astounded that his friends let him get away with all of his actions, which were sometimes extremely cruel, even towards them. What upset me even more was that the creators seemed to be suggesting the idea that if someone’s brilliant at their job, they have the right
to get away with all of this. No matter how good of a doctor (or anything!) someone is, for how long is he allowed to get away with being a complete asshole, just based on that excuse? House listens only to pretty white girls and relishes in tearing apart others’ beliefs in unimaginably cruel ways when, God forbid, anyone suggests any opinion that does not agree with his own warped views. And if the people around him ever dared to hold him responsible for all the terrible things he said and did, there was Cameron with her high-handed moral ground. Cameron and House’s respective outlooks on life set off more existential crises in me than the entire college application procedure put together. Even the work relationships between the team was so badly developed- after three seasons of working so closely together, I’d expect them to at least feel a little warmly about each other, but all that happened was that Cameron and Chase banged each other and Foreman was the leftover nobody. What??
Finally, a day came when I realised I was happier and more peaceful when I was not watching it. So I stopped. And I won’t soon forget the sense of lightness I felt when I realised I’ll NEVER have to struggle to keep my faith in my principles, and not punch a wall/ a pillow/ my laptop screen while doing it, again.
I know, I know. I’m weird.
I even tried watching Masterchef US (I don’t know WHAT the hell I was thinking), The Good Wife, Pretty Little Liars- anything I could find. At last I ended up on Elementary, and yes, it was more satisfying (re: Johnny Lee miller’s monologues!!), but it still wasn’t right! I still wasn’t hyperventilating at the thought of it, which meant either it was doing something obviously wrong or I was doing something obviously wrong in watching it. By this time I was going batshit crazy. I even tried giving Dexter a rewatch (huge mistake: the memories of that Chernobyl of a finale dogged me to the first episode and back) and restarting Mad Men, but nothing, nothing, nothing worked. I was just about to give up and go cry myself a tub of tears and eat an ice cream or ten when suddenly, completely accidentally, one fine day, I hit upon it.
I found it.
I found my Holy Grail.
I couldn’t believe it at first. Was what I feeling real? Did I really just rediscover that feeling: that glorious feeling of drinking in a TV show? Did I really just find it again? And the answer- the answer, my dear friends, is that yES, YES I DID. I FOUND MY HOLY GRAIL.
AND IT IS-
wait for it-
(I can hear you laughing.)
(or rolling your eyes.)
Good. Now, let me explain.
(No, really, let me. It’s gonna be interesting. I promise.)
In the meantime, tell me what your favourite TV show is! Do you watch any of the shows I named? How about House? How far do you agree with what I felt about it? Have you ever had a show go missing? Let me know down below, and we can provide each other comfort and solace and lots of pizza. Stay tuned for the next post where I explain why Teen Wolf is one of the best things on the planet apart from chocolate chip cookies!
(I used the wrong phrase for “PLEASE COME BACK TO READ MY NEXT POST, I NEED THE VIEWS AND I DON’T WANT TO FEEL LONELY AND ABADONED”, again, didn’t I)