A Sick Twist
I can honestly say that the majority of my television watching revolves around reality, or reality-based, shows. I have not regularly followed a fiction show for years. I always find myself addicted to the point that I schedule my life around a particular show, which I think is ridiculous of me.
The last fiction show I allowed to take over my life was Grey’s Anatomy, but that was three years ago. I started planning meetings, dinners, etc. on the night and time the show would be coming on. After a month or so, I tried to watch it again and couldn’t. I thought it was stupid. The same thing happened with Desperate Housewives.
My general methodology of choosing a fiction show to watch regularly includes addict-ability. If I think I could become addicted to it, I won’t watch it. In light of my unorthodox selection methods, I have recently begun watching Nip/Tuck.
In early December 2007, I found myself at home on a Saturday night with nothing to watch on television. I saw that a re-run of Nip/Tuck was on and had remembered a recent conversation with a friend about the show. All I knew about it was that the main characters were good-looking plastic surgeons with a successful Los Angles practice. I decided to watch it having no idea what I was getting into and of course, now I can’t stop watching it.
Since I am new to the show, let’s see if I can get this straight:
Doctors Christian Troy and Sean McNamarra are the stars. They are roommates, middle-aged, attractive and always on the look out for a new piece of hot, LA ass. The abundance of their indiscretions does not bring them any shame as they often brag openly about their conquests. The doctors have long carried on a love/hate relationship with each other due to the constant recurrence of selfish, hurtful actions.
The basic rundown:
Sean used to be married to Julia. They have a son, Matt, but Christian is Matt’s real father because he and Julia had a secret affair. Sean found out, but naturally, he forgave both of them. Matt marries Kimber, a porn star and former lover of Christian, Matt’s real father, they have a baby and get addicted to meth. Sean and Julia get divorced then Julia became a lesbian. All of this, and more I’m sure, happened before I started watching the show.
Julia’s girlfriend, Olivia, has a daughter, Eden. Eden hates Julia so she begins sleeping with Sean and dosing Julia’s food and drink with mercury. In the meantime, Sean, Christian and Julia’s son Matt continues nursing his meth addiction with coaxing from his porn star wife who spends all of their money on drugs instead of buying food for their baby. He tries to be a good dad and seeks help from Christian, who refuses to support his drug habit with finances. Kimber decides to get back into porn so they will have money for drugs. She asks Christian to help reduce the visible signs of her addiction, and he agrees on one condition: she must leave Matt and give him full custody of baby Jenna. Kimber agrees, but reneges on her deal. She leaves Matt for Ram Peters, her former lover and the owner of a porn production company, taking the baby with her. Matt falls apart, tries to cook meth, sets his apartment on fire, and burns his face.
Whew. I know. We’re almost up to speed.
Julia and her girlfriend Olivia are kidnapped. Olivia’s resulting emotional breakdown leads to their break-up and to Julia and Christian getting back together. Now Julia is sick, suspecting she has AIDS, not knowing that she is still being poisoned by Eden, and Christian thinks she’s faking her illness so he breaks up with her.
Eden decided to be a porn star and did a film with Kimber. Sean, who Eden is madly in love with, got her out of her contract with Ram Peters after she begged for help. Colleen told Eden that Sean doesn’t love her, which is untrue, but Eden decided to go back to Ram and Kimber.
Christian is seduced by a former lover, Gina, who he met in Sexaholics Anonymous, who has AIDS, and who he accidentally pushed off of a balcony during their last romp. Christian is now faced with the knowledge that he directly contributed to her death, mostly because he didn’t tell anyone else what really happened, and the responsibility of taking care of her son Wilbur, whom he promised to raise.
Sean is now the star of a television show called Hearts and Scalpels. He is high on his stardom and fairly oblivious to everything going on around him. His agent, Colleen, is not really an agent, makes teddy bears, and killed another agent to keep him away from Sean. Once Sean learned she wasn’t a real agent, he fired her. Colleen then broke into his house and slit her wrists on his balcony.
So yeah. Why do I watch this show again?
It is absolutely the most twisted thing I have ever allowed myself to watch. My friend even told me she was worried that I liked the show. It made me question myself about my reasons for watching such a “disgusting” (in her words) television show.
Part of the attraction is that I wonder what kind of crazy shit is going to happen next. Another part is that the characters are, in my opinion, selfish, soulless individuals that represent all that is wrong with humanity. Each one loves and hates each of the other ones. None of them give a shit about anyone but themselves. Their lives revolve around the world of money, drugs and sex. This is all something I am unfamiliar with and although it is fictional, I find myself finding some kind of base honesty in the show as a whole.
Most of all, I wonder, does stuff like this really happen and do people really act this way?
Rain, Rain, Don’t Go Away
Music has always been a part of my life. My parents weren’t connoisseurs with album collections and favorite bands, but still, music was always around. We didn’t have a television for many years, and we always lived in the middle of nowhere. Radio music broke the monotony of many a board game or long car ride. Because of this, my taste is eclectic. I am not knowledgeable about any single band or genre. I find that I can connect with almost any kind of music.
There is one song I call my ultimate favorite. It has a catchy tune and the words dig deep into my soul, reminding me every time I hear it that it is so good to be alive.
The moment: a late 70’s model green hooptie station wagon cruising what is now considered “the hood” of Little Rock, windows down, I Love a Rainy Night by Eddie Rabbit blasting out the speakers, a 50-something woman driving, a small blonde-haired girl in the seat next to her, both singing at the top of their lungs and playing the dashboard to the beat.
Memories of weekends with Mamaw find their way into my thoughts regularly. I learned to love life from my grandmother. All of it. The good and the bad all wrapped up. I also learned that life doesn’t always follow the rules. This particular song seemed to embody the spirit of my grandmother, and experiencing it with her, in her free-spirited way, instilled in me an appreciation for all that this world has to offer.
All of those times we drove around singing Eddie Rabbit, escaping our respective “rainy nights,” we were really living. Letting our cares drift out the windows of that old, green station wagon. Loving nothing more in the world at that moment than Eddie Rabbit, life and each other.
My grandmother and I are still very close. She often chooses to talk with me about her problems rather than one of her seven children. She says she trusts me. The last few years have been especially difficult for her, and for me. As she gets older, we see her freedoms slipping away and there is nothing we can do about it. My uncle recently moved her into a retirement village apartment complex. She had to give up her house and her dog. Her ability to have a house and take care of a dog has always represented her independence. Now she lives alone in an apartment surrounded by old people. At 78, she still refuses to see herself as old.
I know I’m digressing into a sad commentary about the fate of my elderly grandmother, but it’s relevant. Spending time with my grandmother was like attending the church of life. I still had to behave myself, but I was allowed to be wild and free. Things were loose, somewhat unstructured, but there was an element of maturity and understanding piecing that wildness and freedom together that only someone who had experienced life at its best, and its worst, could impart. Not only someone who had experienced it, but someone who embraced it and allowed it to enhance who they were.
That is what music does for me. It sews the experiences of my life together, reminding me of moments, emotions and people. I can wrap myself up in this unorthodox quilt, finding comfort in all that has been and the person I have become. When my grandmother passes on, I’ve promised to sprinkle her ashes somewhere beautiful and interesting. You can be sure that my windows will be down and Eddie Rabbit will be accompanying us on our final adventure together.
And just for fun, here is a link to I Love a Rainy Night. Enjoy.
Not All Who Wander Are Lost
I discovered Jack Kerouac at an important crossroads in my life. I’ve always believed that life runs in cycles, and I find myself once again at an important crossroads seeking a new definition of truth and freedom. The unrestrained rhythm I found in Kerouac’s words gave me hope. Perhaps it was possible to find meaning in this chaotic world. And maybe it’s even okay to repeat your journey because the answers you had previously arrived at have become null and void. For these reasons I’ve decided to choose Kerouac’s Dharma Bums as my current favorite book.
While reading Dharma Bums, I found it easy to let myself fill the main character’s shoes as he crisscrossed America in search of what it all means. Ray Smith’s adventures, facilitated by hopping trains and hitchhiking from one place to the next, seem daring and impossible by today’s standards. Even so, they still embody the innate desire to understand why we are here and the refusal to blindly accept society’s idea of how we should live.
I admire many things about Ray’s character. He has guts. He fearlessly makes his way in the world and is excited to discover all that is unknown to him. As a practicing Buddhist, Ray feels very strongly about the principles of compassion and simplicity, and strives to live by them. By carrying few possessions and giving away what little he has, he discovers how few material things are required for happiness. Ray Smith truly practices what he preaches, while remaining human and accessible to readers.
As we often find when embarking upon a life journey, not everyone can comprehend our need to make sense of the world around us or the ways in which we attempt to connect all of the dots. On a trip home to North Carolina, Ray learns that his family is struggling to understand both his travels and his Buddhist faith. But he finds that he loves his family very much despite their complete misunderstanding of him. After returning to California to live with a friend in a small shack, companionship with like-minded individuals empowers Ray to continue his quest.
True to life, the characters Ray meets along the way both help him on his journey and bring out the worst in him. His friend Japhy Ryder, also a practicing Buddhist, proves to be a guide of sorts. His character represents balance between our spiritual self and our physical self. Japhy’s strong Buddhist beliefs are manifested in his life as a whole, but his humanity returns to show that perhaps moderation is the key to everything. He allows himself to find pleasure in women and alcohol, two things Ray constantly struggles with. Eventually Japhy tires of his worldly behaviors and seeks retreat in a Japanese monastery, completely removing himself from the tempting situations. He found a way out that seemed sensible, which is something I often find myself doing. Making sense of running away isn’t as hard as it would seem.
After Japhy leaves him, Ray also finds a way out of the tempting situations that test his resilience as a Buddhist. He spends the summer as a fire lookout on Desolation Peak in the mountains of California. After battling nature, the elements, and his loneliness, he eventually concludes that there is absolutely nothing in the world for him to worry about. All is well with the world.
The idea of taking a journey specifically for self-discovery is intriguing. Instead of taking Kerouac’s story of the Dharma Bums as a literal suggestion to take a physical journey to find myself in the world, I apply it to the metaphor that compares life to a journey. Ray Smith, a loosely disguised Jack Kerouac, is an inspiration. He is a free-spirit unwilling to settle for what life hands him, destined to forge his own path and understand it all in his own time.
Permission to Over-Analyze 