In the ebook you might remember when I had a pretty funny moment in my GP’s waiting room where a mother was reading a book to her son? Well, that kind of thing happens all the time, to be honest. I had another one just yesterday when I was watching an episode of Penny Dreadful. I really enjoyed the first season and so I’ve been meaning to catch up on the rest for quite some time. For some reason, the Down Days have been coming thick and fast, lately, and so I’ve been left pretty useless regards doing any writing. Just for an extra kick in the pants, it has been half-term, so that week off I should have had to get some work done on the next novel has been completely wasted. Suffice to say I spent a lot of the week chastising myself and feeling utterly lazy and useless and shit for the very thing that I can’t help. But, when I haven’t been beating myself up, I’ve been trying to switch off my brain completely.
So, I’ve watched an entire season of Lucifer (another show I’ve been meaning to watch) which was blessed brainless fun, caught up on Black Mirror‘s new season which left e feeling utterly impressed and even more depressed as the writing was far in excess of anything I can ever hope to achieve, and then on to Penny Dreadful, where I had my moment.
Just like the moment in the GP’s office, it was totally stupid. But a zoologist that Eva Green’s character meets starts to wax lyrical about the dead animals that he cares for in the museum. Whoop-de-doo, right? So what? Well, as delicate as this poor little flower was feeling at that point, I ended up choking back the tears. It was the enthusiasm, I think, that passion for something that he loved which was so well performed and that I was missing at that exact moment. For some reason, just like when I shrug people off when they’re paying me compliments because I can’t take it, I’m also brought to tears by the enthusiasm of others. I find it beautiful, so sue me. In a world where everyone sits soaking up the world via tiny screens that feed more and more darkness into their souls through lidless, glassy eyeballs, the sight of someone expressing a passion just…you know.
When you have Down Days, there’s so much darkness to wade through. The world is waist-deep in murky water that clings and tugs at you and the cold seeps into your bones and steals your breath away. I just find people with passions, who are unafraid to express them, and allow their loves to carry them above and beyond the day-to-day bigotry and swampishness of life to be inspirational. All bullshit aside, it gives me a warm squiggly feeling, ok? So sue me.
Anyway, since the last few posts have been a little low, I thought I’d share another weepy moment, but one that comes from a place of light rather than an inescapable depression cave. There’s nothing wrong with tears, I think, when they come from a sense of relief; a feeling that small pockets of transcendent people might still remain. Maybe, if I keep fighting this thing, I could be one of them, too. Just maybe.
Thanks for reading.