I’m a huge fan of pop culture. Which I realize is a very silly thing to say. How can one be a fan of pop culture as a whole? But I am. Always have been. At a young age, television was my friend. Radio bonded my mother and I as I would perform songs and stories each weekend. I even won story telling contests. I like a good narrative and it need not have a beginning, middle, and end. Stories can have a myriad of structures and the fun comes in taking them apart. Pop culture helped me understand that very early on.
Because of my pop culture love I watch hundreds and hundreds of shows. One such show that I love, is The 100. At first it seemed it was going to be a light teenager show. However, it is quite dark as the 100 teenagers choose between bad choices to survive. That’s how I like my shows. Anyway, there is an episode in which the characters talk about the dark year. Or rather, they don’t talk about the dark year. That is when many died at their own hands. I won’t go further into the plot. No need to.
My bit is about how we all probably have that year, that time period, that was dark. We may even have one such year each decade of life. A decade or so ago a lot of people in my life orbit died. It was a hard, hard time. My dog died on Friday the 13th. Those were both dark and light times, as my baby was a baby and he was a pure delight. He helped get me through those times. What does a dark year look for everyone? Regardless of the details, I am not convinced it’s a good thing to keep quiet about such trevails. We can’t really excise those years and times. History is filled with dark times but we don’t ignore them in the history pages. To see the light we must read the dark.