Meet the Morgans

Happy New Year!

2014, a brilliant new age is upon us. You know what that means, the last few seasons of Dexter are on Netflix. Sad as it is, this is my second television series that I’m watching start to finish, without missing a single episode EVER. I’m usually not the kind of person to commit to something so wholeheartedly, I just get addicted.

My new found devotion is both thanks to Netflix, and my boyfriend’s avid fondness of this particular show. I have to say, without a smatter of regret, it’s officially rubbed off on me, and I’m hooked. I’m hooked in multiple realms, like a double decker cheesecake, like a thousand story skyscraper, like a deep ocean blue that is holding a world of richness and colors. This show has transformed me, as it’s turned me into a viewer, an effect I think the producers intended for it to have. It had me cringing and squirming at first, absolutely loathing the main character, and now (by Season 7) has me fixated like the very victims that lie on it’s table each episode. I may as well wrap myself in plastic wrap and chain myself to the couch with a bowl of popcorn.

Although… I still can’t watch it with the lights off. And it’s best about 2-3 hours before I try to go to sleep. And I never watch it alone. But I still like it.

Silly as it is, like every well-written script, I can’t help but find ways to identify with the main character. I get really sick of his antics at times, and it frustrates me to warn him about dangerous traps he so carelessly walks into, that I feel he should’ve seen coming. But I do have a soft spot in my heart for Dexter and his crew. He’s like a modern day Robin Hood, only more….Robbin’ than from da’ Hood.

Ways I Relate to Dexter: 

1. I have a running monologue inside my brain, which narrates my actions, my reflection on others actions, and my overall state of mind at any given time. When I pass that woman at her desk in the morning who uses way to much perfume, me, myself, and I will talk about it until I get to my own desk. Once I’m safely and inconspicuously at my desk with a cup of coffee, I begin narrating for myself as the day progresses.

2. I like routine. When someone throws me out of mine, my very perfect routine that I’ve created…. the music stops, the camera rolls stops short, and I get all out of whack. Like Dexter, I recover by drinking excessive amounts of coffee, suffering incredible bouts of insomnia, or just generally acting weird around everyone I interact with.

3. I cut myself shaving everyday too. In his theme song, he cuts himself everytime. You’d think if he did the same thing everyday, he would learn to shave a smoother shave without error. Then again, you would think that about me. Maybe he just likes to see his own blood. In that way, we cannot relate.

4. Our bathtubs have been full of blood. Well, mine wasn’t quite as extreme as his, just from a bad shaving incident thanks to the poor build of razors in France.

5. People don’t understand us. Mis unda stood. That’s me and Dex. He teaches us the importance of being open, honest, and up front with your thoughts and feelings. Be impeccable with your word, a lesson he needs to learn.

6. We both have huge biceps. Enough said.


Despite our droves of similarities, I don’t really love this dude in the show. I like him as an actor, and feel a little bad for him as a man in real life (his wife divorced him to be with a notable voice in the local music scene) but the entire time I’ve been watching him, I want him to get caught. I like the whole Crime-Scene-Investigator-theme-gone-rougue, but I want it all to stop, and I want him to go back to his happy little life, like a normal dad. I can’t stand his lying, his trickster ways, and his need to justify committing a crime. I think he would enjoy it if he could be more normal, and I think he could be more normal if he had more positive self-talk and far less hallucinations. He needs help, he needs a counselor, he should stop using his dead father to glean words of wisdom.

Under the right circumstances, he seems like the kind of guy that could really pull of normal. I suppose that’s our most major difference, I’m way too wacky to pull off “normal”. Oh yes, that and…

1. I couldn’t kill a fly. Literally, I let a spider sit and enjoy my lunch break with me in my car because I couldn’t kill it and I had no need to remove it.

2. The sight of blood makes me go pale and hit the floor like a tons of bricks. I guess I have no future with Miami Metro.

Fortunately, like most addictions, all good things must come to an end. The show is nearly over and I am on the edge of my futon waiting to find out how this whole thing will wrap up.  No pun intended. Then I can move on to something with a little more levity.


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