Showhole

I am in a showhole.  

I learned that word from whenever...I think?...I last watched network television, which was probably on accident or under duress. I used to never watch TV, for hundreds of years.  When I was wee, I watched enough TV to counterbalance the whole rest of my life, and I can tell you anything you need to know about 80’s cartoon classics.  

Also I watched the Princess Bride on repeat—like no kidding two or three times a day—for about three weeks straight at one point.  Best decision I ever made.  

Young me going outside.

And then…I stopped.  Idk, maybe I took my short fat kid self outside, maybe I got grounded from TV.  Who knows—but it stuck.  I didn’t go back.  Time passed and I didn't get TiVo. (You remember TiVo, Reader?)  I didn’t own a TV.  It wasn’t some political statement, I just didn’t care, and commercials make me want to rip my eyeballs out and eat them. 

But sometime in there streaming started happening, and I must have been in front of something, and this ad came on about the feeling of emptiness when you are out of one show and don’t have a replacement, and now, years later, (evidence of how insidious 

I have no idea what this image is about
but it is what happens when you Google "Showhole".

commercials are) I remember the phrase “showhole” even though I don’t remember the content I was watching.    (I assume this memory exists for everyone and you know what that means, Reader.  Right?  Not just me?  RIGHT?)

So I missed a lot of things, much of which I do not miss missing.  A few statements that people have strong opinions about but are none the less are true for me:  I do not like Seinfeld.  I do not like Always Sunny.  I do not like That 70’s Show.

Archer is still perfect.

Much of the regular faves that people adore just didn’t do it for me, and then I would ruin other people’s nights because I am super sensitive and I can’t get over the ridiculous two-dimensional nature of the characters and the issues they faced and it makes me angry.  Like, I’m not just bored watching, I am mad about it.  No one has a good time with me and network TV.  I have opinions—I’m not saying they are right, but they are mine, and I am loud.

So I didn’t watch TV.

I love The Wire like Danny Trejo loves puppies.

That....has changed significantly.  I think this started when a friend of mine, we’ll call her “Kendra”, sat me down to marathon The Wire.  I was hooked on that show from the intro scene before the intro credits of S1E1.  The Wire gave me hope for television.  

(Then I sang its praises to everyone I know and love, and it turns out, it didn’t land like that for everyone.  Makes no sense at all.)

Also, I moved in with someone who had a TV and watched it regularly, and had very different taste than me.  This is why I know how much I dislike That 70’s Show.  

Originally, I had a That 70s Show pic here
but really, Miss Fisher is worth
so much more of your time.

It also pushed me out of the house, into the back yard with my own device and Netflix access, right when another friend, we’ll call her “Jen”, recommended Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. That show is solid gold, and I got hooked on television.

Or rather, hooked on Netflix, and the ability to watch TV commercial-free, and pick from an extensive list not limited to “what’s on Thursday nights these days” or whatever.  Game changer.  

The game was changed.

Then, about two years ago, I was wasting my life on facebook and I kept stumbling across people talking about their media diet.  What is a media diet, I said.  Well!  It is when you are intentional about the content you take in, specifically about watching things made by (not just staring) women and people of color.  And all these facebook people—sane, rational people I know and respect—were like, doing this changed my life. 

And I was like, “That’s obviously ridiculous.”  Good content is good content, right?   I had feelings about it...but I did respect these people.  So rather than than knee jerk, I was like, meh, let me give it a try…because this seems ridiculous. 

It is not ridiculous. 

It is super serious.

 It is difficult—you have to look all these shows up, and there is good content that doesn’t make the cut.  What’s left is slim pickings—there just aren’t that many show runners who aren’t white men.  Which is it’s own thing, but not the topic of this post.  I’m sitting there thinking “good content is good content” and then I start curating and....everything changes. 

Do not base your life choices on this woman.

I started with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, and like…you could tell it was made by a woman.  Not because of some cosmic, uterine resonance, just the way they handled the characters. The way they were depicted, the jokes, the way they handled topics…most importantly, the things that were normal.  The things I recognize from my entire life and the lives of my lady friends that I suddenly realized I had never seen ever ever never ever on TV.  

The normal things.  Not some rant against the patriarchy, just the acknowledgement that your boobs change size when you’re on the pill.  WHICH THEY DO.  And seeing it in a TV show—not some episode about the pill or reproductive health or a women’s right to choose, just as a throw-away line because it’s not a big deal, it’s just normal—made me realize two things:  How normal it is, and how it doesn’t feel normal to talk about in public because the thing that comes into our lives to show us what “normal people” are like never talk about it.

I am not suggesting that the characters of Peaky Blinders, a show I greatly enjoyed, are intended to seem normal. I am suggesting that the everyday-life-ness of characters in any show, no matter how not-everyday-life their lives are, has never included some basic normalcy that is just a part of ladyhuman’s lives.  There’s a scene in How to Get Away with Murder where the lead is getting ready to go out, there’s a whole montage of her getting ready, and she plucks a hair off her chin.  Just for a moment, it’s part of a montage, but it’s there. 

Holler if you hear me, ladies. 

This lady hears me.

 This diet has been incredibly beneficial for me, in ways I never expected.  But, like any diet, it’s hard.  Who “creates” a show?  Is it writers or directors or producers?  Does it count if someone on the team isn’t a white man, even if someone else is?  Do gay or non-CIS creators count? (Spoiler alert, for me they do.)  Baz Luhrmann is weird, and Australiannnnnnnnnnnn does that count?  

I watched it.  You should watch it. 

Because The Get Down is amazing.

Also.   This.  Is amazing. 

 I am watching Handmaid’s Tale, presumably because I am a masochist who hates happiness, and does Margaret Atwood’s co-producer status count?  Or is this a cheat show?  Is it problematic that June is played by a member of a cult that isn't great to people in general and women specifically?  Doesn’t matter, I hate happiness, I am watching it.  

 (Full disclosure, I also watched the first 5 seasons of Supernatural because I am a nerd, and I liked the creepiness and then I was sucked in, and I’m not sorry.  But only 5 seasons; like what do you even do after everyone has died and come back so often; dear God they’re on season 127 now and still going strong; they get no more of my life but I still love you Dean even when you are being dumb af.)  

Also while we're cheating, Stranger Things.

Anyway, I recommend the diet; it has changed my life.  If you doubt as I doubted—give it a try.  There’s lots of good content out there to get you started, see how it goes.

BUT. 

I just finished season two of Wynona Earp.  And now I don’t know what to do with myself.  I spend most of my evenings on the back patio, either here with you, Beloved Reader, or watching something.  Real life is constantly teetering on the edge of  “nothing is fine, everything is terrible, I didn't want to have to be part of a revolution, it's getting worse and worse.” So.  Now I’m on a bit of a more nuanced media diet.  I would like a show that is (on my diet and) light and ridiculous enough that it is escapism and counterbalances Handmaid’s Tale (self-inflicted, but cathartic) and the New York Times Morning Briefing (internal screaming with the occasional rare opportunity to dance on Scott Pruitt’s stupid garbage dumb career-grave). 

And I’m still picky—like I don’t love something just because it is on my diet.  

Its unavailability is a crime against humanity.

Scandal was flawless riiiight up until it was too silly to take any more (okay crack DC fixer team, everyone just calm down, you are all doing the most all of the time, nothing is that extra).  Cable Girls, a period Spanish show based in the late 1920s, is lovely but way heavy.   Golden Girls isn’t on Netflix.  I can’t mainline Glow because “Andy” and I are watching it together and he has made it clear to me that that is betrayal.

So now I’m in a stupid showhole.