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Pushing Daisies
Apr. 23rd, 2009 06:34 pmI've been meaning to write about this for a long time, but I've held back. Maybe I'm self-conscious, maybe when I think about how silly I feel writing this out. I think I've seen too many psychotic fans attributing their salvation or their life to a certain show. But I was commenting on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skyblade's post about reviews and opinions and mentioned that while I love to read differing opinions, there are some shows or movies that are so close to me that it's hard for me to hear any criticism of them. Pushing Daisies is one of them, and I owe it to the show to explain why.
Pushing Daisies premiered on October 3, 2007. My dad and I had been seeing previews and ads for it on ABC for weeks and decided it was something both of us would be interested in. At the time, I was still trying to go to school even though I was sick with what I was told was mono. I had my bed pushed up against a wall in my room and a TV on my desk nearby. I watched the premiere from bed with my dad sitting at my feet. I don't remember much about my experience watching the premiere - I think I liked it, but it hadn't completely won me over yet.
When the fourth episode of the series rolled around, I was in the hospital. That night I missed the episode because I was laying down with a high fever and ice packs under my arms. A week later on Halloween, I watched the next episode from a new hospital bed in Jacksonville. I can't remember exactly - it was either that night or the next that I crashed. I watched the episode after that from a bed in ICU.
Every week, I tried to make a point of watching my shows while in the hospital. Around that time was when I stopped watching Grey's Anatomy for hopefully obvious reasons. Luckily I apparently jumped ship right before it started to seriously tank. Even after I was out of the hospital, every week I waited for Pushing Daisies. For that hour, every single week, I felt happy. There was something so completely surreal and beautiful about the storybook world Pushing Daisies was set in that I didn't have to think about anything else. I didn't think about how all my clothes were falling off me, my hair was half-gone or I couldn't walk up one stair step without having to haul myself up using a chair. I just looked at the tv and smiled.
I don't know whether the show has this effect on everyone or if it's just some Pavlovian response of mine, but it's impossible for me to be unhappy watching a Pushing Daisies episode. I must look like a total goon watching it, because I sometimes catch myself smiling this big, stupid smile throughout the episode. This show is the most wonderful show I've ever watched. It makes me happier than Buffy, Veronica Mars or anything else I've called my favorite show. It's like televised Prozac for me. I understand that it couldn't build a proper viewership to justify the high budget in this economy. I know television is a business all in it to make money. I'm still heartbroken that this experience is gone.
skyblade's post about reviews and opinions and mentioned that while I love to read differing opinions, there are some shows or movies that are so close to me that it's hard for me to hear any criticism of them. Pushing Daisies is one of them, and I owe it to the show to explain why.Pushing Daisies premiered on October 3, 2007. My dad and I had been seeing previews and ads for it on ABC for weeks and decided it was something both of us would be interested in. At the time, I was still trying to go to school even though I was sick with what I was told was mono. I had my bed pushed up against a wall in my room and a TV on my desk nearby. I watched the premiere from bed with my dad sitting at my feet. I don't remember much about my experience watching the premiere - I think I liked it, but it hadn't completely won me over yet.
When the fourth episode of the series rolled around, I was in the hospital. That night I missed the episode because I was laying down with a high fever and ice packs under my arms. A week later on Halloween, I watched the next episode from a new hospital bed in Jacksonville. I can't remember exactly - it was either that night or the next that I crashed. I watched the episode after that from a bed in ICU.
Every week, I tried to make a point of watching my shows while in the hospital. Around that time was when I stopped watching Grey's Anatomy for hopefully obvious reasons. Luckily I apparently jumped ship right before it started to seriously tank. Even after I was out of the hospital, every week I waited for Pushing Daisies. For that hour, every single week, I felt happy. There was something so completely surreal and beautiful about the storybook world Pushing Daisies was set in that I didn't have to think about anything else. I didn't think about how all my clothes were falling off me, my hair was half-gone or I couldn't walk up one stair step without having to haul myself up using a chair. I just looked at the tv and smiled.
I don't know whether the show has this effect on everyone or if it's just some Pavlovian response of mine, but it's impossible for me to be unhappy watching a Pushing Daisies episode. I must look like a total goon watching it, because I sometimes catch myself smiling this big, stupid smile throughout the episode. This show is the most wonderful show I've ever watched. It makes me happier than Buffy, Veronica Mars or anything else I've called my favorite show. It's like televised Prozac for me. I understand that it couldn't build a proper viewership to justify the high budget in this economy. I know television is a business all in it to make money. I'm still heartbroken that this experience is gone.
