Looking Back: House

So, I finally got around to watching the final episode of FOX's brilliant tv show House. It kind of got me thinking about my own personal connection with the show, what impact it might have had on my life, and my general feelings toward it. So, yeah, this is going to be introspective, personal and probably a little rambling, and I won't blame anybody for not reading.

So, House.

You've gotta love his class.

I started watching House around the end of middle school/beginning of high school. I found it when I was right in the midst of a religious deconversion. I was an atheist now, and I didn't know quite how to deal with it, and anything that even mentioned religion was sure to have my attention. House, of course, was the steryotypical asshole atheist; smug, arrogant, and miserable, but always very enjoyable to watch. I'll never forget the way he dismissed one unlucky Mormon who came to his door- "Oh, you're selling religion? No thanks, I just bought loads of Islam last week." I initially felt drawn to the character because I felt we had a lot in common; jaded, dissatisfied, surrounded by people who just didn't get it.

I outgrew the angry atheist phase after a while, but even after I stopped watching all the YouTube rants and reading the "edgy" (read: slightly offensive) webcomics, I stuck with House. Unlike the other things I mentioned, there was more to House than his beliefs or even his dickery. He was an enigma. He was an asshole, but people loved him. He saved lives, but he was miserable. He was a genius, a miracle worker, a sharp wit, an addict, an ass. He was a complex, layered character, constantly getting himself into messes, constantly getting himself out through the grace of the people who, despite his self-destructive behavior and unpleasant demeanor, somehow cared enough about him to keep cleaning up after him. As a writer, I would give up half the toes on my right foot to be able to write a character as fascinating and engaging as him. As an audience member, I was transfixed, constantly kept guessing, wondering what the hell he was going to do next. 

I didn't have any clue, when I started writing this, what I would say, or where I would end up. I guess all I can say is, House was a great story. And, to humans, stories mean something. You can't spend years of your life immersed in the life and struggles of a character without them impacting you somehow. I don't know how, exactly, House has affected me, but I'm sure I'll find out someday. What I do know is that I'll miss that bastard, and not just him, but Wilson, Thirteen, Foreman, Chase, and every other character ever to wander in to the madman's web. They're a part of me, now, and a part of every other person who loved the show. 

It's always sad when things end. 

So I need a new distraction. Dammit, when the hell does season three of Sherlock come out?

I need it now! Whyyy...