First thing, I was just looking for something to put on the TV while I sit here and get done some writing. I was going to put on Archer again since I haven’t watching it yet this quarter but then in my list of ‘continue watching’ I saw Light and Magic. I haven’t watched this series in awhile so I pull it up. That’s when I noticed that there are new episodes! I didn’t know they were running a second season! I started over on that while do some writing. Just so we’re clear, I got the e-mail with my first day at the new job and now I’m working on some writing projects instead of actively looking for a new day job. Is that ok with you?!?!?! Coolness. Now, I’m writing this and there’s a writing program accepting submissions right now. My plan is focus on that and write up the pieces I need for that before I start the new job. I finished one piece but I’m concerned it’s a bit too dark, ya know, being about my personal experience and all. I need to write a couple scripts over the next few days so, that’s what I’m working on now. Well, not NOW now, obviously I’m still writing this thing right this moment. Next thing after this post, though. That’s what I’m doing next.
Ok, I still haven’t caught up on Andor yet. I got sidetracked watching through Battlestar Galactica again. This time watching through the series was profoundly different from my previous watch-throughs. I seemed to be more emotional watching most of the series time round. I’d forgotten about the scenes with Starbuck and her mom. There were a few mentions of her mom and how Apollo’s mom was less than motherly but then seeing the scenes with Starbuck and her mom hit me considerably harder. I’ve made no secret here about my “mother” being a piece of shit but watching this interaction at this time was hard for me. Maybe it’s because I’m here now so close, geographically, to where I experienced this abuse. Maybe it’s just this point in time with everything that’s going on. It’s hard to say. But I will admit that some part of me wishes Artie got her shit together and actually tried to be better. Fact is: she didn’t. I still fully intend to find her grave with the sole intent to piss on it. Is that my fault for not just forgiving her, just because? Fuck no! That bitch died still lying through her withered, fake teeth. That’s on her. And rest assured, I’m getting to the dead dad issues next.
Obviously I kept breaking down and weeping watching the father/son scenes of Olmos and Bamber. I didn’t get to know my dad so well before he died. I was only twelve and most of our bonding was watching TV and eating fast food. Surprise! He not only died from a heart attack but it was his fourth heart attack. He and I never really had any of those typical fights that fathers and sons get to have. We argued about rap music and The Simpsons, that’s pretty much it. There again, I was eleven and twelve so, it’s not as though I had a well thought out and poignant argument to offer. Every time I see those conversations in film and TV it reminds me of just how young I really was when he died. Invariably, the conversation finds its way to ‘children replacing their parents’. The intended obsolescence of parents. I figured out fairly quick after dad died just how pivotal a defining moment like that is. A necessary detriment for personal growth. There’s the idea that when a bone breaks it becomes stronger at the break because of the healing process undergone by the bone to repair that damage. One could argue that losing a loved one, especially one as integral as a parent is a uniquely profound damage or break to the psyche, or soul, or whatever that a person experiencing that is altered irrevocably, instantly, in real time. I would look at people around me, even kids my own age, and what I saw is that they were all soft. Even my siblings being coddled by their mother, were weak. A fact that became more and more apparent as I kept growing through this experience. I think the worst part of that experience is that it seemed to hit me all at once. I didn’t get to do it piece by piece. Challenging dad on this point, or having that argument, he just died one day and then the next day, I had to explain to Artie why she was wrong about whatever. Or I had to anticipate how something would play out logically so, I didn’t screw around as a child. I never shoplifted. I didn’t sneak drinks out of my friends’ parents’ liquor cabinets. I missed out on some common childhood experiences because in certain ways, I was already an adult at thirteen. Thing is that I lost a lot of key childhood experiences but that’s ok because now I had to be a grown up who was being beaten by my “mother” every other day. And all that is what’s running through my mind when I see Olmos telling Bamber to ”get your fat ass off my ship.”
Writing this just now has taken quite a bit out of me. I think I’m going to eat these fifteen hour old chili cheese fries and get this post scheduled so I can get going on these other projects. I’m going to watch the last few episodes of Andor and maybe watch the whole series again then possibly write my thoughts on it for Thursday.
