Missing Walter White, TV shows and turning 6

If you've noticed some of my recent Facebook updates, they've been related to an obsession with Breaking Bad. For the uninitiated, go watch it, and for those who've seen it they'll probably understand why I loved it. I feel a bit like there's a gaping hole in my life (exaggeration or maybe I've become infinitely dull :)) after the season finale...no more Walter White, no more cooking meth, set to another new favourite song of mine - Crystal Blue Persuasion, no more sitting on the edge of my seat wondering when the hell Walt would get caught and no more rooting for the bad guy. Because that's what I did throughout...I didn't want Walt to get caught, I know what he did was and why he continued to do it was wrong - but I think deep down we all understood what Walt enjoyed so much - his rather ordinary life was all of a sudden exciting, dangerous, people feared him, his fictitious name creating ripples of fear and mystery wherever it was heard.  We all live fantasies in our head - maybe not on such an extreme as Breaking Bad, perhaps smaller (reliving a moment where we wished we had said something else - the recipient of our response left in awe and admiration of our reply, leaving them silenced and subdued); or perhaps a career we aren't pursuing except in our heads (I'm constantly leaping around in mine, the greatest dancer that ever lived!); or perhaps even more dangerous fantasies that are best left as just that...in one's head!

Sid's fantasies may be as fantastic as anyone else's but it's always amusing to see him try and live them out a bit.  His obsession with a rather silly show (well I've never got hooked to it, so it's silly) - Castle - seems to have brought out a bit of the private investigator in him.  A few months ago his credit card details were stolen.  He was alerted by an alarming series of text messages from his bank about purchases as they were being made - $ 1000 at Netflix; $500 at some skateboard shop and a few hundreds elsewhere.  He was
quick to call and block his card, which the bank did and said they would investigate the matter - it could take a few months for the matter to be settled.  Not satisfied with just that, Siddharth decided to go ahead and call up some of the places where the purchases had been made in the US - one of them refused to help, but the other cancelled the transaction and even helpfully gave Sid the shipping address of the person in Florida who had bought the skateboard with his credit card details.  He noted the address down, barely containing his excitement, and then proceeded to call up the police in that area, registering a complaint in whatchamacallit town/city in Florida.  Beaming with pride he then used Google maps to locate the address and spent many hours gazing at the criminal's house and even observed that the pavements around the area looked conducive for skateboarding!  He even hoped that he may be able to see the person come out using the incriminating evidence on Google Maps...when I told him he was being ridiculous he just brushed me off, claiming I knew nothing!  That night, or rather very early the next morning, at about 1 am I was rudely awoken by an electronic buzzing - Sid's cell phone.  He will never not answer his phone (thinks it's rude) so even in the depths of his slumber he picked up, polite as always.  The caller evoked a strange response in him, one I've only seen when he's speaking to my father where he tends to stand up when talking! He didn't stand but he did sit up straight and what ensued was a rather quick but
entertaining conversation of which I only heard

Hello...oh yes Inspector Nelson...
No, Inspector Nelson...
Oh, of course Inspector Nelson...
Thank you so much Inspector Nelson...
I'll wait to hear from you Inspector Nelson

He hung up beaming.  '"Inspector Nelson" he said, as way of explanation. "I wouldn't have guessed!" I replied.  Sarcasm was lost on him as he prattled on about how the Florida police was working with him on the case and he was crucial to them "cracking" it and that "scourge on a skateboard" would rue the day he had used the Khandelwal credit card.  He walked around for days, telling everyone about Inspector Nelson and looked at his phone longingly in the hopes that he would get a call from the police. The incident was sorted out in due course, I can't recall if there were any other calls from Inspector Nelson, or skateboarding images on Google maps, but things were resolved to satisfaction and Sid got to strut around for a few days as a crucial part of the Florida police team!

And so it goes on. I get so swept up with television that I shed tears not when something is necessarily sad, but when I feel great relief, or happiness as well. When Tom Hanks in Apollo 13 was returning to earth, I wept with joy; when Merida's mum in 'Brave' looked like she was doomed to be a bear (which to be honest I preferred her as, she was just adorable as a bear) I shed a few tears; when Jesse took off after Walt helped him escape at the end of Breaking Bad I sobbed with relief as I watched him cry while driving away; and tears roll down my cheeks when I hear "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Mis, not the whole song and not because of the words, but just when the music sort of crescendoes at the line "I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living".  The fear, the pain, the joy, the thrill, the hopelessness, the trauma...I just get so swept up in all of it. And though Sid chuckles when he catches me looking sniffy; or when I tell him how something I watched may have moved me, I know he gets as swept as I do.  We enjoy some of the same shows, but even if we don't we still watch the others' favourites, finding it very amusing how the other can enjoy that particular movie/show!  

We recently completed 6 years of being married (8 and a half years being together so it does feel longer) and as always there's never a real dull moment on or off screen at our house.  So to quote from another favourite musical, or rather a favourite song from a musical (Rent) -

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear....how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, and strife...how about love? Seasons of love.

So I would definitely measure our years in all of the above, but I think instead of seasons of love, I can't discount seasons of television shows or movies that we've spoken about, loved, laughed over, hated and shared over these years.  From all the terrible movies we watched initially (Siddharth used to watch every single movie that came out, dragging me along for some of the worst moments in celluloid history, including that horrific piece called Neal and Nikki (or Nikki and Neal) which was about Tanisha's bra and Uday Chopra endorsing a lipstick brand I think because that's all we noticed); to "forcing him to watch marathon sessions of Sex and the City; to me being forced to watched everything from Burn Notice to White Collar; to Breaking Bad of course and so much in between.  So to my couch buddy, we've lived our time together with some of the most memorable tv and movie characters; and may we live many more years together celebrating so much more of them - good and bad!


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