So my brother Alex is over at my mom’s apartment for Christmas yesterday. And we’re sitting around, chatting about bullshit, just shooting the breeze. Well somehow we got on the topic of television (probably because my whole fucking existence revolves around my shows). I don’t remember the details of the exchange, but I know that I made a comment about reading fanfiction and generally obsessing over shows, and my asshole brother scoffs. I mean, he makes the most condescending little “pfft” noise you ever did hear. I told him to suck my dick, of course, but that’s not really the point.
The point–the crux of the matter– is that no one really understands why these shows mean so much to me. And because people can’t seem to grasp the reason I get so worked up about them, they don’t respect it the way they should.
Let me try to break it down for you.
Life, for me anyway, is just vast stretches of monotonous boredom and stale disappointment punctuated by fleeting moments of acute emotion (anger, joy, fear, grief, etc.). 90% of the time I’m just sitting on my ass or standing at the sidelines waiting for something to fucking happen in my lackluster little existence. And during that time I mostly think a lot. I’m not trying to sound pretentious or “deep,” I’m simply saying that I am, by nature, an introspective person. So I have thoughts, and I have feelings about my thoughts, and I have feelings about my feelings, and so on and so forth.
But how does a person express all that? Humans need some kind of outlet for emotional release (barring sociopaths and whatnot).
I’m not one of you creative types. I get along best with those people, sure, but I’m not one of them–I can’t participate in the making of art in any of it’s forms. You’re never going to see me doodling, or sculpting, or jotting down poetry, or thinking up stories.
I’m also not someone who physically exerts themselves. I’ve got friends who, when they get upset or even when they feel accomplished, will go for a run, or shoot hoops, or work out. Hell, I know people who play video games as a form of catharsis. I have no skill and take no joy in these areas.
And I don’t feel better talking things out. You know how people say “punch a pillow when you’re upset?” If I do that I just get more worked up and feel like I wasted time and energy; it’s the same thing with “venting.” I say words to my therapist or a close friend, but it gives me no release.
So the million dollar question: How do I achieve a cathartic release?
You guessed it. My shows.
I get involved in shows that make me feel things. I become invested in the characters and their lives, and when things happen to them I get to feel it. I feel it in ways I can’t feel the events of my own life. I laugh and grin like an idiot and sometimes I get to be hopeful about the future. The best is when a show makes me cry. The West Wing, Buffy, Angel, Supernatural, The Pacific, Sports Night, Studio 60, The Social Network (movies work too), Doctor Who… I cry and it’s the release I need to stay sane.
When people knock my shows and my devotion to them, it’s like mocking my religion. I believe in the power of stories–that these characters can bring my emotions to the forefront and make me feel alive… that sort of raw humanity can change the world. We’re all connected. John Green reminds us that ”there are billions of people like [you], and we are each stuck inside of our minds, feverishly trying to crawl out to make connections with other people.”
Television, movies, books, fanfiction, internet communities… these are all mediums I use to connect to other human beings. That is my life’s work. So don’t act like you’re better than me because you don’t take television seriously like I do. I spend my free time searching for new ways to feel alive and connected to my humanity while you jerk off and listen to dubstep.
As I said to my asshole brother: suck my dick.
