Art is Bad for You

Before it seemed like I was being too sensitive, but I cross-referenced it with my friend tonight (who actually just broke up with his girlfriend, making him more sensitive than me, but whatever) and the final three episodes of Six Feet Under were fucking scary, anxiety-causing emotion blasters. C'mon! Nate dies completely out of the blue, and then David has to deal with some red-hooded monster stalking his every move? My friend said, "At least I had my girlfriend to watch it with me. I can't imagine seeing those episodes alone." No shit! To make myself seem more like a wimp, I'll tell you that I watched those episodes in the blinding, hazy light of mid-morning last week, not at the turn of the night like I used to watch Unsolved Mysteries. Yet, there I was, shuffling aimlessly around my house, wondering if there really was a God. I mentioned in a previous post that I had cried during the last show. And it makes me wonder - is putting yourself through that stress really worth it? At what point in my adulthood did it become a questionable act to experience an artform that might be sad or scary? I used to watch Faces of Death, for fucksake, and that made me feel bold, like a soldier. Now, I can't be so sure Just Shoot Me isn't going to put me over the edge with a special scene about date rape. No wonder Old People don't go to the movies or read books or watch anything other than PBS. They've whittled down their tolerance for drama to a gnat-sized dose of Oprah now and then. Me, I feel like putting myself through the stressful act now and then just to build my balls up. I'm 26 years young, too young to be afraid of fictional characters. Imagine if the whole season had been as well done as the first three. You probably wouldn't be reading this.