I've become addicted to "House". Like any show, the characters become familiar and comforting. I wonder if my dog and cat have gotten used to the character's voices as most nights, before bed, I pull up one of the reruns from the DVR, and watch until I start losing focus. I'll jump it back a few seconds to see what I didn't hear them just say. I have to jump back more often, and farther back, until I pass out or know it's time to concede the day and stop resisting the dreams and heaviness of sleep and the impending new day.
I don't know that I relate to any one of the characters completely. Like a lot of theatre, several different characters probably make a composite of the viewer. But I do like House, of course. As I grow increasingly cynical of people's motives and truthfulness, the things he says resonate. And lately, I've become aware that perhaps a certain amount of unhappiness, loneliness, and hopelessness have become part of the comforting familiarity of my own character. That bothers me a bit. I want to embrace it. I want to drink and throw back pills and stop struggling. Except, I don't think I've struggled, not properly, not effectively. I've struggled in my head, but not in my life.
The other night, House told a patient who wanted to change his life to make it more meaningful:
You're afraid to change. You either imagine that you can escape, instead of actually trying, because if you fail then you've got nothing. You give up the chance of something real so that you can hold on to hope. The thing is? Hope is for sissies.
The problem is, I think resignation and thoughtless acceptance of lives that aren't true are also for sissies. The only other options are not wanting, or struggle, actually making change. And that brings it all back to the question of will. It's more important than whether I have the means to change my life. Will. Do I have it, or don't I?
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