Sherlock is back, and that means if you haven’t seen it and intend to, I would stay away from this post until that happens.
Normal is a subjective term. You know why I’ve finally come to that conclusion? Because not even the most normal of instances are met with approval by all seven billion people on this planet. I mean think about it, there are seven billion people, all diverse and unique, with seperate backgrounds and circumstances. It would be abnormal if there was even one thing that we unanimously agree one. But we don’t. Try and name one, go ahead. Eating? Living? Not suffering?
Well, you needn’t go far to find someone who hates eating. Even if you never find anyone else who agrees with me, I’m not particularly fond of it. I would give it up entirely if, you know, it wasn’t sort of vital for my health. And every suicide victim clearly doesn’t love the idea of being alive, so there you go.
Now not suffering…not suffering is a little harder to convince you of. But I do believe that there are even those who feed on pain. Serial killers, and other messed up individuals, you may be thinking. But I argue that you don’t even have to be that extreme. Theater people always cry during tech week; I mean, that’s just mandatory. It’s in their contract to do so, because it’s SO grueling, SO repetitve, SO long and tiring and hunger-inducing. But they wouldn’t give it up for anything, and always come back for more.
And people in fandoms, they go through a lot. If you’ve never been in a fandom you will undoubtedly scoff at the thought that real pain can come just from watching a movie or TV show, but I assure you, it does. I’ve had a rough week and a half due to the new season of Sherlock. I don’t know how well I’ve conveyed my absolute obsession with this show, but believe me when I say that never watching it again would result in me quite rapidly wasting away to nothing. I don’t have very extreme outward emotions, but when Mary died at the end of the first episode I started shouting at my screen, even though everyone else in the house was in bed. I cried and was in shock all the next day, and even now haven’t quite recovered from that calamity. And after the second episode my heart was literally beating so hard I thought my ribs might burst. But it’s definitely an “I’M IN AGONY…do it again!!” type thing.
So why am I having this revelation today? Because my father watches Sherlock too, and today he asked me to watch the first new episode with him, because he hadn’t seen it yet. I felt everything again while watching Mary die, like a recurring nightmare.
But he! He just sat there very calmly, and when it was over he started watching one of those home improvement shows, while casually mentioning his need to go to the store.
I just couldn’t understand how something I care for so deeply, and I thought he was into as well, could have such little impact on him.
And I know he’s a guy, and not prone to outburts of emotion, but he is kind of a fanboy, and was rather scarred when his childhood hero Han Solo died. So why could he not feel the same for my Mary, and the family she left behind??
Because nothing is for everyone. He may enjoy this show for the action and adventure, and the brief hour and a half space of entertainment it gives him, because I doubt he watches it again. But he couldn’t care less who lives, who dies, who tells your story. Whereas I watch it on a daily basis, over and over, psycho-analying every line, and every facial expression. There’s always something new to see, and when I’m not available to watch it, I’m constantly thinking about it, quoting it, sort of embellishing it in my head.
And that’s how I came to this epiphany. No matter how amazing something is, no matter how normal, or sensible, or popular, there will always be those who do not feel the same.
That’s why I feel really sorry for the people who aren’t into religion. I get that it’s not your thing, I really do, but unfortunately there are going to be severe consequences for you if you don’t overcome that.