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The Stories We Tell Ourselves


Image Source: Senor Velasco
After last week's excursion, I decided to do something a little more mundane this past Sunday: watching TV.

I don't exactly have access to cable television, so I decided to rewatch an old favorite of mine, Battlestar Galactica (the new series, not the one from the 1970s). Imagine my surprise when I found out that Netflix didn't have Battlestar Galactica anymore. Or Doctor Who. Or The Addams Family. Dang it.

Eventually I settled on BoJack Horseman. It's a Netflix original, and my favorite TV show, and I figured I was due for a rewatch. So that's what I did all Sunday.

I suppose I should explain what BoJack Horseman is. Basically, it's an animated show that exists in an alternate Hollywood where humans and anthropomorphic animals coexist (no explanation is given for this). The story follows the life of BoJack Horseman, a washed-up sitcom actor desperately clamoring for the glory days. It starts out seeming like any other subpar adult animated sitcom, full of unlikable characters and cutaway gags ripped straight from Family Guy. But by about halfway through the first season, the cracks start to show: a character celebrates her 40th birthday alone, another has a disastrous argument with a dying friend, and the decisions that the characters make start to have real, lasting consequences.

By the end of the first season, the true nature of BoJack Horseman is apparent: it's a show about people (and animals, I suppose), whose spirits have been broken in one way or another, looking for meaning. It's about deconstructing the idea that life is a narrative with any deeper meaning; as one character remarks, "I don't think I believe in 'deep down.' I think all you are is just the things that you do."

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love the show, but I'm not so sure that it was a good idea to watch it for an entire day. It's not exactly pleasant.

When I retired for the night, there was a bit of a damping mood cast over me. It wasn't so much pure sadness, as it was a kind of melancholic wistfulness, like you might get on a rainy day. Even given this, though, I would still heartily recommend the show; in the end, the message it conveys, while often sad, is also strangely hopeful.

There was one more aspect of my Sunday experience that I thought was odd: my eyes felt just fine, unlike when I played video games for a whole day two weeks ago. I'm guessing it's because I didn't have to focus on the screen as much, though it could also be just random chance.

So, would I recommend watching BoJack Horseman all day? Well, no, probably not. I had seen the show before, so I was prepared for the gut punches that are the eleventh episode of each season. But I imagine if I weren't prepared, I would probably want to take a break, catch my breath, and clear my eyes.

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