Survivor confession

For some reason, I’ve decided after all these to finally watch Survivor. This years version is Survivor Gabon. I attribute my illness for this new, odd fascination I have with the program. I’ve never watched survivor. Not once in all the years that it has been aired. The very first season I turned on the television and caught the tail end of the last program where contestant A told contestant B that if A came across B’s maimed and crushed body on the side of the road, A would spit and kick B before driving on. That moment is probably what inspired the networks to make Survivor an annual event. Human beings treating each other with the utmost disrespect and condemnation. When looking at American politics, it’s clear that American’s love that.

So why am I watching the program now? To be honest, I’m not sure. However, I find the psychology quite fascinating. Even though their clothes are filthy, their hair and bodies appear well maintained for 13 days in an African jungle. I tend to think they’re getting some help with hygiene. Also, when a contestant is sent to exile island but has a camera crew following her around…how much exile is that, really? I think the stripper used her professional skills to find her way to the idol. (Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge her that at all. She’s a lot smarter than she plays, and playing the camera crew would simply prove my point.) Anyway, I just find it fascinating to wonder at the images that are being presented to the viewer and the many moments that aren’t. Are the contestants really sharing a pit toilet? Where are they getting fresh water to drink? To brush their teeth? (Supposedly they came with only the clothes on their backs…no toothbrushes?) Who is doing their hair? It cracks me up to think of 15 people roughing it in the wilds of Gabon while having their hair done by the very best television hairstylists.

I could go on with all the things I think about the program and what I’m seeing and what I’m not. Admittedly I really want Fang to win a contest or two. It breaks my heart that they perpetually lose and they have so little food to eat. (That’s true, isn’t it? They really are starving, aren’t they?) With my illness I’ve been through hell and I’m finding my way back. I guess I feel for the suffering survivors, and am happy to think if they can hang in there, so can I.