Yesterday, my roommate got home just as I was getting done watching the season finale of Grey's Anatomy from last season. I had, as I am wont to do, cried my way through it (I finished my tuna sandwich before the real deluge began), and so there I was: tear-stained, sniffling, ready for the season premiere.
She asked me later why I watch shows that make me cry (lady shows, she called them, thank you for that), and I told her I that I think it's because I find it cathartic. All those emotions that I can't quite find an expression for in my own real life, that don't quite well up to climax of tears, I can let them come out all at once when I watch other people suffering or finding joy. I like to do the same thing when I read books and see performance, as well. (Strangely, more embarrassed to cry when I hurt myself than at a good piece of theater. Why is that, I wonder?) I feel like, maybe, it makes me more prepared and open to my own life, to feel so much for other (fake) people. So long as I don't forget to go out and live my own life, too.
I mean, I also like to laugh at funny shows and be horrified by gritty shows (many can't agree with me on this one), seeing some things I find recognizable from my own life, and others that I, thankfully, can't directly identify with. I feel kind of lucky, that my taste range runs large, so I can love goofy TV and vomit-inducing theater and everything in between.
Really, this post is just so the whole internet knows that I cry when I watch TV, in case anyone didn't already know. It's a good thing, I guess, that I couldn't get that episode of Grey's Anatomy to work while I was at the coffeeshop on Saturday. That would have been a little awkward.
3 comments:
i am drunk and enjoying it. I love you.
Hope you are wet
I'll tell you this, while I'm glad you've found a release for your emotions, I, for one, hope to never be tear stained and smelling of tuna fish.
Tear stained and smelling of pot roast is a whole 'nuther story. I think that would simply indicate that I've achieved my goal of become a homemaker, married to an alcoholic, inattentive, brute of a wife.
when i lived with my mother, it pissed me off that she cried all the time.
now i do it, too. it's not so bad. except when it's at school, in front of people, while i'm trying to eat my lunch. y'know. it's the little things.
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