I watch Dexter.

I’m just starting Season 3 and I love it.  I don’t watch it on TV because I hate TV, remember?

I buy the seasons and then try to cut myself off so I don’t sit and watch the whole damn thing straight through. Dexter must be the reason I haven’t finished writing my book. Thank God, I have someone to blame.

It is cleaver and wonderfully written and about a serial killer.  When I’m watching the show I don’t care.  Sometimes I actually root for him.

I like him.  How did they pull that off?  Why is it that I can’t stand most television or the characters on it, but I’ll stay up late watching a serial killer in really bad shirts?

I can’t imagine what the pitch for this show must have been like and what producer said, “Yes, this sounds great and audiences will love it.”

But love it we do.

Dexter is intelligent and the fact that he’s a serial killer is just a small part of the story line.  It’s about a man coming to terms with his life.  He struggles and grows in a way that is engaging.  To see it as gore is just…well, stupid.

I can relate to him. I don’t know how it’s possible that I relate to a male character that cuts bodies up and throws them in the ocean, but I do.

Katlyn is studying Psychology this year.  That means she brings home these cool puzzles and pictures to show us at dinner.

They’re the type where you look at an image and depending on your perspective you see different things.  Last night I saw an Indian, but Cotter saw a seal.  Our minds process information differently or we look at things differently.  So fun.

Maybe that’s the draw with Dexter.  I see if from a particular perspective.  I see a great character that comes from an honest place and he’s funny.  Some may see a gruesome show about a serial killer.

They really need to see it from my perspective.

That’s all from the laundry room.  Sneak home late.

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