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The Flight Attendant (TV)
Sep. 19th, 2024 01:55 pmContent Warning: Discussion of my mother's death.
I'm not sure I've ever written about it before, but the TV show The Flight Attendant, available on Max in America.
I'm a little too sleepy to make a long post, but I've got to say that it's one of those things that, while tense in nature, is very comforting to me.
I'm a person who listens to true crime in the background to fall asleep. Sometimes, I'll take a hiatus if I notice that my nervous system has started to take notice of the disturbing and fearful aspects of it to cling to rather than the soothing aspects.
What's soothing about true crime?
I've read in the past that, perhaps, (white) women especially are attracted to true crime media because it gives us a sense of control over the dangers women face more often in a society where we are, on average, physically weaker and, statistically, more likely to be the victims of violence. Particularly for white women, I've also seen it argued that since policing structures in America disadvantage us the least in some cases and prop us up as martyrs or princesses to "protect" from undesirable people that it helps to feed into the copaganda. I'm not sure I'd go that far always, though I do think there are cases where this is absolutely on the money.
There is something about the solving of a puzzle, the reporting on investigations, that fascinates me.
My best friend is a lawyer and dislikes all true crime media, both because it's like work to her and because they're always wrong. But I was interested in forensics because of CSI when I was just a little kid. I never went that way professionally, and it's probably a good thing, but the process still fascinates me.
But the reason that I find true crime media so comforting, most of all, is probably the fact that it was one thing my mom and I could always agree on watching together. We had very different interests in media, but we both liked suspense and mystery-solving. We watched Dateline and 20/20 and forensics files reruns together anytime they were on. My dad would join in sometimes, but they tended to affect him more deeply. He'd leave the room sometimes when we were "watching the murder and mayhem channel."
My mom died in 2020, but before she died, we had some good months where she was sick and weak but not bedridden. During that time, we watched the series In the Heat of the Night. I think that's the last show she ever watched through, though she'd seen it before, and I'm so glad I got invested in it with her.
Anyway, before the end of the year, she'd gotten so sick she wasn't very aware except when she needed help and she became bedridden. It happened pretty quickly. I'm glad the crash was pretty fast and hard, even though it was immediate, for her sake. Those few days that were in an in-between state were absolutely heartbreaking. Knowing my mom wanted to do more, to have more, but she couldn't. But then, there was a relative peace as she got sicker and sicker and finally passed. I remember the moment when she sort of said "goodbye for now" and after that she was alive for a few more days, but the hospice nurse told us that the kind of breathing she was doing was pretty indicative that even though we feel sympathy by hearing it that she probably wasn't suffering anymore. The hospice nurse seemed to think of it as the medical version of that old superstition where the soul stayed with the body for a few days sometimes. And then she passed early one morning.
I wrote about it shortly before it happened on here. I'm not sure if I wrote about the event or its aftermath.
The truth is, I've never been very good at processing grief. I tend to get hold of myself pretty quickly and then never quite let the rest of it out. I do a lot of grieving and begging and denial before someone dies, if I know it's coming, but when it happens, I just kind of... only cry a couple of times and then I sort of wrap myself up in an emotional corset/blanket and hold it together for... whoever or whatever.
The day my mom died I sobbed several times, but the rest of the time, I was just sort of floating. It was December. Cold but not bitter, but I think there was still some snow on the ground from when it had snowed on or right before Christmas. I was unemployed, thanks to COVID, and like I said, that whole 8 or 9 months of being at home without a job was both terrible and boring and one of the best times of my entire life because of the context of getting to be with my parents for the last period of time in my life I would have both of them.
The day my mom died, when I had sobbed until I couldn't anymore for a while, my dad was busy and dealing with things in his own way. I tried to be comfort to him when I could, but I also just wanted to sleep and escape, but when I couldn't sleep, I went into the den and turned on the TV. I went to HBO Max, and I finally turned on The Flight Attendant. I'd wanted to watch it, and I think it had come out recently, but it takes quite a bit of boredom, malaise, or determination for me to embark on a show I don't do, in part, for fandom community - even if it's just with my closest couple of friends.
I watched it in a binge over several days. It's suspenseful, flashy, fascinating. It's feminine power fantasy and I love it so much. It is a kind of crime drama but it's suspense and drama and a lot of other things.
My mom would've hated it. Too much swearing and sexuality.
But the general vibe of it and why I find it soothing as much as it tugs at one's nerves by design is something she imparted to me, whether she meant to or not.
(If I'd been anything but a teacher, I would've liked to be a flight attendant. I still daydream about it sometimes, but I'm neither hot nor physically fit enough typically... I can't swim.)
I'm not sure I've ever written about it before, but the TV show The Flight Attendant, available on Max in America.
I'm a little too sleepy to make a long post, but I've got to say that it's one of those things that, while tense in nature, is very comforting to me.
I'm a person who listens to true crime in the background to fall asleep. Sometimes, I'll take a hiatus if I notice that my nervous system has started to take notice of the disturbing and fearful aspects of it to cling to rather than the soothing aspects.
What's soothing about true crime?
I've read in the past that, perhaps, (white) women especially are attracted to true crime media because it gives us a sense of control over the dangers women face more often in a society where we are, on average, physically weaker and, statistically, more likely to be the victims of violence. Particularly for white women, I've also seen it argued that since policing structures in America disadvantage us the least in some cases and prop us up as martyrs or princesses to "protect" from undesirable people that it helps to feed into the copaganda. I'm not sure I'd go that far always, though I do think there are cases where this is absolutely on the money.
There is something about the solving of a puzzle, the reporting on investigations, that fascinates me.
My best friend is a lawyer and dislikes all true crime media, both because it's like work to her and because they're always wrong. But I was interested in forensics because of CSI when I was just a little kid. I never went that way professionally, and it's probably a good thing, but the process still fascinates me.
But the reason that I find true crime media so comforting, most of all, is probably the fact that it was one thing my mom and I could always agree on watching together. We had very different interests in media, but we both liked suspense and mystery-solving. We watched Dateline and 20/20 and forensics files reruns together anytime they were on. My dad would join in sometimes, but they tended to affect him more deeply. He'd leave the room sometimes when we were "watching the murder and mayhem channel."
My mom died in 2020, but before she died, we had some good months where she was sick and weak but not bedridden. During that time, we watched the series In the Heat of the Night. I think that's the last show she ever watched through, though she'd seen it before, and I'm so glad I got invested in it with her.
Anyway, before the end of the year, she'd gotten so sick she wasn't very aware except when she needed help and she became bedridden. It happened pretty quickly. I'm glad the crash was pretty fast and hard, even though it was immediate, for her sake. Those few days that were in an in-between state were absolutely heartbreaking. Knowing my mom wanted to do more, to have more, but she couldn't. But then, there was a relative peace as she got sicker and sicker and finally passed. I remember the moment when she sort of said "goodbye for now" and after that she was alive for a few more days, but the hospice nurse told us that the kind of breathing she was doing was pretty indicative that even though we feel sympathy by hearing it that she probably wasn't suffering anymore. The hospice nurse seemed to think of it as the medical version of that old superstition where the soul stayed with the body for a few days sometimes. And then she passed early one morning.
I wrote about it shortly before it happened on here. I'm not sure if I wrote about the event or its aftermath.
The truth is, I've never been very good at processing grief. I tend to get hold of myself pretty quickly and then never quite let the rest of it out. I do a lot of grieving and begging and denial before someone dies, if I know it's coming, but when it happens, I just kind of... only cry a couple of times and then I sort of wrap myself up in an emotional corset/blanket and hold it together for... whoever or whatever.
The day my mom died I sobbed several times, but the rest of the time, I was just sort of floating. It was December. Cold but not bitter, but I think there was still some snow on the ground from when it had snowed on or right before Christmas. I was unemployed, thanks to COVID, and like I said, that whole 8 or 9 months of being at home without a job was both terrible and boring and one of the best times of my entire life because of the context of getting to be with my parents for the last period of time in my life I would have both of them.
The day my mom died, when I had sobbed until I couldn't anymore for a while, my dad was busy and dealing with things in his own way. I tried to be comfort to him when I could, but I also just wanted to sleep and escape, but when I couldn't sleep, I went into the den and turned on the TV. I went to HBO Max, and I finally turned on The Flight Attendant. I'd wanted to watch it, and I think it had come out recently, but it takes quite a bit of boredom, malaise, or determination for me to embark on a show I don't do, in part, for fandom community - even if it's just with my closest couple of friends.
I watched it in a binge over several days. It's suspenseful, flashy, fascinating. It's feminine power fantasy and I love it so much. It is a kind of crime drama but it's suspense and drama and a lot of other things.
My mom would've hated it. Too much swearing and sexuality.
But the general vibe of it and why I find it soothing as much as it tugs at one's nerves by design is something she imparted to me, whether she meant to or not.
(If I'd been anything but a teacher, I would've liked to be a flight attendant. I still daydream about it sometimes, but I'm neither hot nor physically fit enough typically... I can't swim.)
