The Magicians came into my life and ravished me this past week. Honestly, the show so much didn’t do it but the fictional characterizations and mental improvements I added when the show lacked is what captured me. As much as I enjoyed it as is, as something to distract me from beating myself up over not finishing my story or being stuck in a show that made me cry all the time, it got the job done while also making me think about something important. What’s a hero? Truly, what makes a hero, well, heroic?
Television has been a big part of my life because it’s large and in your face without apologizing for it because that’s it’s purpose, right? So it’s no surprise that that someone would be prone to emotionally diving into anything with a plot, some characters, and a general setting. I’m fluffing all this up to say that lately these shows on this television box have been pissing me off and doing terribly.
I won’t beat around the bush here, I’ve been completely bias towards shows disappointing me since the fall of True Blood. I can’t say how emotionally invested I was in that show. It’s hard to come clean and say that I loved it more than my own creations because it was creative, it was refreshing for its genre, and it was a world I completely imagined myself being it.
With the summer comes the grim reminder of the show I once waited for every Sunday at 8pm. This isn’t a short story at all. In fact, this may be the most passionate about a topic I’ve ever been or even considered discussing. If you haven’t seen the series, good riddance, truly. If you have, maybe you’ll remember when it all went wrong and relive the anger with me. I’ve been working on this post since March, so I’m not kidding when I say that I’m very, very passionate about this topic and show. I’m quite sensitive over it, to be honest.
There is a general warning about talks of rape, abuse of the three degrees (mentally, physically, and emotionally), and spoilers. But it’s been five years or more so whatever.
Coming of age tales never hit home with me in ways I would have liked. I’m a decade behind on life, my teenage years being more like my playful prepubescent stage (immaturity included!) and my twenties was me rushing right into adulthood. I was robbed of a childhood really, so catching up took me a while. Now, I’m fine, in a sense. But as a teenager who was just now really coming to terms with being a young woman, As Told By Ginger seemed to be the one thing that grounded me in the ways I needed.
Did that hurt your feelings as much as it hurt mines?
December 10th I had surgery and the time before that I spent a nice chunk of my weeks before then adding shows and films to my lists and watchlists. Well, I didn’t really get a chance to dive into those other shows because The Wire came and invaded my life like a soap that I had no recollection of buying. My family recommended for me to watch it months ago, when I used to turn to Facebook to whine about finishing something on Netflix.
I won’t lie here, I rejected the idea of watching the show because well, I grew up in a city just like Baltimore, riddled with cops, crooked cops, thugs, drug addicts dragging across the streets, and dealers who were all to ready to give them their pick of poison. I didn’t really want to get tangled up in a show that would make me disappointed in my culture or annoy me with the crooked cop run of the mill bullshit.
And boy was I full of shit.