Farewell, Psych

 

psych

This past Wednesday night my family gathered together to say goodbye to our beloved friends, co-conspirators in irreverence, fellow pop culture referencers, and long-time supporters of the pineapple industry.

The menu for the wake was easy to coordinate. A simple spread, largely orange and unhealthy, high in sodium, sugar, and preservatives.

junkfood

The dress was casual, because knowing our friends, they wouldn’t want us to be the stick up Principal Richard Vernon’s ass during Saturday detention.

Sad Gus
Sad Gus

They had given us time to process the loss, to grieve for the years we’d spent hearing it both ways while sucking it until we couldn’t any longer. It wasn’t really over, they’d claimed. Imagine them carrying on in their antics and goodwill, riding off into the sunset in the blueberry.

Only, the blueberry had died long before, her carcass split in two by that assassin that time.

We had to trust them, our friends who once serenaded us to Tears For Fears “Shout” while moonwalking, that they were leaving us with a legacy, a hope…obscure 80s references on a never-ending loop.

Eight years. Eight years ago, I was about to marry my husband. I was 21, a size zero, a girl not yet a woman, eight years ago I was young.

So were they.

My entire marriage thus far we have watched these characters, and I don’t think I’m being dramatic (psh) when I say, this loss is significant. It really is like saying goodbye to friends you learned to lean on, that you feel you’ve shared something — and no, not like I actually think they are real or we know each other or have made them my sons co-Godfather’s —so special and singular it can never be duplicated.

Over the eight seasons, Shawn and Gus have slowly shed their adolescence. Do they still eat like fourteen-year-old athletes, make juvenile jokes and alienate with obscure trivia only they understand? Yes. Thank God. There is a realness to their prolonged adolescence that speaks to my generation. Kids raising kids, or Shawn and Gus being raised by the Santa Barbara Police Department. There is an honesty to the trajectory many of us find ourselves on.

If the series finale is any indication, they aren’t just kids anymore.

And neither am I. The bittersweet sentiment of my goodbye to characters I have, myself, grown up with, is met with my own revelations. My own tentative acceptance of aging and maturity and admittance that I’m not the twenty-one-year-old I was when the show aired in one of the less awkward Pilots ever put on TV.

As Shawn said, in the final moments of the final episode, “I am done cowering from the big decisions.” That statement sums up his internal conflict, his character’s ultimate, overreaching arc. And there is nothing more satisfying for a viewer to see their hero (he’s really co-hero with Gus. Come on, son!) achieve his goal. In terms of closure, this finale delivered.

We leave these character in a good place. We leave them with a future.

smiling

So, even though we say goodbye, and we admit we sort of think you guys are being like “Topher Grace in In Good Company“, we say thank you.

Thank you for eight years of your lives.

Thank you for growing up with us.

Thank you for being our friends.

Thank you for teaching us about the 80s.

We won’t forget about you.

 

What’s Up Wednesday: Writing Cave

TreeWUWWhat’s Up Wednesday is a weekly meme geared toward readers and writers, allowing us to touch base with blog friends and let them know what’s up. Should you wish to join us, you will find the link widget at the bottom of Jaime or Erin’s blog.

This is my first What’s up Wednesday to use Jaime’s adorable new buttons. Oh geez, I love them.

What I’m Reading

kristen-wigg-hair-twirl

Yeah. Not much right now. I read the awesome and moving and hilarious and awesome Side Effects May Vary by Julie Murphy last week, then nothin’, nada, nil. I do have an excuse, I will elaborate on that more fully below. All I can say is I have a stack of books by my bed and on my computer that are desperate for my attention and starting to get testy.

What I’m Writing

That thing I said I’d elaborate on, well, prepare for some sweet, sweet knowledge. If you follow me on Twitter, you might know — because it only actually happens if I put it on Twitter — that in the last two weeks I have added 16,000 words to my YET TO BE TITLED work-in-progress. Below is a true-life depiction of what I currently look like.

Ron-Swanson-Dance

I’m so pretty and dainty. I have a self-imposed deadline of April 1st. Why? BecauseIdoshutup. As of today it looks like I need 10-12,000 words until I can type The End. In honor of progress, and even though I get really embarrassed posting my writing anywhere ever, I’m including a tiny, baby snippet. (Be gentle, it’s rough.)

Cheers rise like roaring beasts around the room. In the burst of celebration, I finally look at her. Her eyes are pinned to the King, her hands pinch the fabric of her skirt, nervous, but she smiles. I almost reach for her hands, planning to flatten them against her skirt like always. A gentle reminder that she has nothing to fear — but I can’t touch her now, I can’t help her now.

My place is no longer beside her.

What Inspires Me

I don’t even know because it’s all a haze right now. I think the idea of finishing this book, for one. Requests from agents on my other book and positive feedback, for another. Seeing the word count edge higher everyday, and with it the realization that I will finish this thing before it finishes me.

Daily chats with writer friends that encourage and empower. You ladies know who you are.

I went to the Side Effects May Vary Launch and Signing. The turnout was phenomenal, and so, of course that is super inspirational, but it was seeing how it affected Julie that really hit me. Hard. Writers work so many hours on their books, give so much of their life-force, their soul and heart and brain, to these fictional worlds. Writers, us, we live in the bubble of our worlds and our characters and them mattering to only us for so long, that when it finally comes time for them to matter to others the fact that they do can be shocking — wonderful, but shocking. julieme

 

What Else I’m Up To

A few weeks ago, agent Maria Vincente with P.S. Literary put out a call for contributors, regular or special feature, to her blog I Believe in StoryI applied and was accepted, which was awesome. My first blog post, up today, is a Character Study on Jon Snow. Yeah. You’re gonna want to go read that. Follow I Believe in Story on Twitter to get blog updates. I am really excited to be collaborating with Maria. It has been a fabulous experience thus far.

Binge watching Veronica Mars. Saturday evening my husband and I were supposed to attend a reunion show for our awesome friend’s band. We couldn’t because child-dog care didn’t work out. We had never watched Veronica Mars, and with all the chatter about the movie, and all my friends being hashtag marshmallows, I just had to check it out. Hooked like a kid on phonics, I tell ya.

Lamenting over the soon-to-be loss of Psych (Tonight, 9/8c, USA). My husband and I have watched this show since it began back in July, 2006, or for the entirety of our marriage thus far. It’s a big deal for us. There will be a full blog post on the topic Friday, here on the blog, once I have dealt with my feelings. Or to help me deal with my feelings. Or to bitch about my feelings. Whatever. Stay tuned.

gus

Happy (Sad for me) Wednesday!