No-one is reading this right now so this is more of a promise to myself, I'll update soon.

The Humanity of Television

A while back, I had been thinking about cancelled TV shows and in particular the point in which they’re cancelled in terms of storyline and character development. I hate when a show gets cut short and things are... unresolved. Take Lost for example...

Ok so I know that show wasn’t cancelled, but some of us are still not over it, you know? Some of us downloaded the soundtrack and play the instrumental for the closing scene when we are feeling pensive.

Just me?

Oh.

It gripped a lot of people for 6 years. It also ended in a way which divided opinion (I loved it). But what if Lost was less successful? Imagine you were the ONLY one you knew who liked that show, and they just cancelled it on you. Imagine not knowing if they got off the island or not (I’m aware there are people possibly reading this who haven’t seen it and may want to in the future so I’m not about to spoil it for you).

Character-driven television shows are my bag. I can’t really watch stuff like that when someone else is with me. I get kind of intense, wondering if the person is really paying attention. I can watch hour’s worth of episodes in a single day if I have a day off, to the point where these characters seem to live and breathe (in fact I swear that Sam Newly from Samantha Who? winked at me once when I was ill with the flu, however it might’ve been the cough medicine).

I loved that show. I mean it was no Lost, but it was fun and Christina Applegate, Melissa McCarthy and Jennifer Esposito were brilliant together. It was annoying that the show ended like it did, what happened to her and the boyfriend? Did they last it out? Did her mum go on the caravan holiday like she was going to? This shiz stings. The abandonment issues run deep for me in TV land. Some of you will remember a TV show called Out of this World, you know, the one with the half alien girl with the rubix cube dad who could stop time by putting the tips of her fingers together? Yea that one! Woooould youuuuu LIKE to swing on a star (oh oh oh!)...

The last episode was a total cliffhanger and I couldn’t wait to find out what happened. I had gone away for the weekend and set my VHS timer to record it but when I got home and eagerly rewound the tape to find some crap about gardening. Gardening. This was not cool people. Being the child of divorce that I am this did NOTHING to dispel the feeling that people can just up and leave. Evie Ethel Garland was gone and she wasn’t coming back.

The whole thing makes me think about real life people and the stories they have to tell. Some people have big stupendous soap opera storylines that are dragged out way too long and bore their audience. Some people are background characters and don’t really seem to contribute, but occasionally stun everyone when they’re given a line to say. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that you can learn a lot about real people from watching fake people. Which of them is more watchable is up to the viewer.

Freeze

I woke to find you standing in the kitchen making breakfast. You saw me and a wave of excitement swept over your face as you rushed over to me, putting your hands on my shoulders as you guided me to the kitchen table.

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...

Are you really here?

I made breakfast.

You’re here.

I’m here.  I’ve always been here.

It’s been really hard. I’ve found it really hard.

I know.

You put your hand on my face.

Why did you leave, why is it still painful now you’re here? Will it go away?

Don’t ask too many questions, that’s where you are going wrong. Not everything has to have an answer, things happen and life changes, you have to just understand that and accept that. You have the ability to change minor details, but the big things just happen. You need to let go a bit, stop trying to control everything. Stop trying to control the uncontrollable.

I don’t want to let you go again.

You don’t have to.

Good.

Your breakfast is getting cold.

It hurt, it really hurt and people didn’t understand. They couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of how heavy my heart was. After a while the rawness of it dulls, and then you’re expected to just get on with it. You have a certain amount of time to grieve and that time correlates to who has gone. But it was different with you. You weren’t just anyone. You were you. I felt alone. And then as time went by and the faces in my life changed you were getting lost in my mind, hidden amongst the new people and challenges I was facing. And people couldn’t relate to what I was saying when I mentioned you. It made them uncomfortable and that made me resentful. I hated having to repress you for the sake of social convenience. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that you were once here and I knew you and that I’m not the same person since you went away.

But when you got upset I was there, you could see me.

I could.

Everything isn’t for us to understand. If you could understand everything there would be no point in all this.

I love you.

I love you.

Then we eat our breakfast. Life had frozen and I was me again.

Religion, Bundy and Madonna

Sometimes I think I need some form of religion. I see religion as a way for people to come together and share one uniform philosophy with each other. I have this idea that I'm this little particle, twirling around other particles, never being part of the motion causing the friction.

If I were to choose a religion it wouldn't be one of the 'biggies'. I was born into one of them and it wasn't a good fit. I was also a Kabbalist for like a week largely due to Madonna and the eBay purchase of a bracelet. This ended with the loss of said bracelet on an ill-fated night out in San Francisco back in '05. In my eyes the 'biggies' are like corporations (something I like to avoid if at all possible since I stopped working for one) but then again what are you left with? A small, bespoke, "tailored to you" type of faith. In the past I've thought this to be perfect and sounding absolutely rare. I can see it now: a group of plucky like-minded folks who shun the big organisations in search of a "purer truth" or a "better way of life" - you get the picture.

We'd sit in meadows and grow our hair long and all wear purple. We'd be vegan and adopt spirit names like Rain and Tree. We wouldn't need society! We would be our own society! Then it hits me: I'm heading toward Suicide Cultville - otherwise known as Bundytown - so I try and re-think, but by this point all you're left with is the ones that take a percentage of your income, which is just bad manners.

So therein lies the rub. I'll probably just approach it as a spectator, only interested from afar. Instead I'll be spiritual and focus on being a good person. You shouldn't really need religion to teach you that anyway.

Illustration Friday: Capable

I like old cars like AMC Pacers. They looked like cars The Jetsons would drive. I’d honestly rather have a 1975 AMC Pacer (with all its infamous eccentricities) than, say, the latest BMW. I think it’s because I’m a bit dubious of new things.

New cars do not interest me. They’re a lot of money and a lot of upkeep, but mostly they have no character. You get these people who are defined by their cars, as if they think that owning a particular model will somehow define them.

It’s a car. Get over yourself.

Unless my teeth rattle together when it hits 60 mph then it’s just no fun. Sure, new cars glide. You can sit in a new car and let it transport you to your destination. But where’s the thrill in that? I drive a rickety Fiat Punto and it sometimes feels like I’m in hostage negotiations with it when trying to get myself anywhere. It doesn’t excel in its purpose; it is capable of doing what I need it to.

I’m an all-rounder. I’m capable. Do you remember sitting next to someone at school who excelled at everything? It was nauseating. For the record I’m sorry if I am describing you here but I’m sure you can take comfort in your brilliance. I used to think that only the really gifted people get anywhere in life, but I’ve since realised that we can all get places, some of us just need to make more effort.

My point is: if you’re an AMC Pacer on the freeway of life, chances are, you’re still going to get where you’re going to. Maybe you won’t get there as fast as Mr BMW with all his bells and whistles, but you’ll probably get there. Besides, chances are for these people there’s always going to be somebody in an old relic not too far ahead of them that they’ll need to sit behind anyway.

Illustration Friday: Popularity

Most of us have had those moments in our lives when all eyes are on us. The rare times it has happened I've found it intoxicating. If they were to play out like a movie, my brain would play the part of a frazzled nanny to my eccentric and flighty ego, desperately trying to make it see that this whirlwind of popularity is temporary, and probably not a true reflection of how my peers see me overall.

"But this is people seeing me for the awesome person I really feel inside that I am!" ego would wistfully assure brain. Poor brain. Overpowered again.

I like to think I've got to the point where my ego isn't as out of control as this. Once in a while when people notice your qualities it's nice to feel appreciated and liked. Ebbs and flows, comes and goes. When thinking about popularity for this post my heart went instantly to adolescence and how brutal this stuff can be that time in your life, and how resilient young people are to push past the bad bits because of how good it feels to be at the centre of something.

Illustration Friday: Clumsy

I was always breaking my toys as a child. There was nothing more horrific than the realisation that the damage was irreparable.