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Our blog is a way for the Spirit Lake Review staff to write about their special interests, hobbies or local events.


BoJack Horseman Spoilers! 

 

BoJack Horseman is an adult cartoon television show. It follows the storyline of BoJack Horseman and his relationship with Diane Nguyen, a ghost writer. The first episode explores their first “remembered” meeting and ends with the pair on a rooftop when BoJack says, “wouldn’t it be funny if this was the last time we ever talked.”  

 

Both Diane and BoJack battle depression and are in search of genuine happiness. The show, although quite disturbing at times, has a self-aware humor and witty commentary on today’s celebrity culture and postmodern capitalism. It speaks to the absurdities of show business with a unique irony that touches on money, power, and strength.  

 

The show's diverse cast— from Princess Caroline (a cat woman) to actress Margo Martindale— creates a fantastical fantasy world where humans and animal-human hybrids live harmoniously. The show features several human-animal relationships which adds to the show’s funny, often outlandish humor.  

 

BoJack Horseman is a washed-up actor from the 70s. The show begins when he is 50 and ends when he’s 57. The opening scene shows watchers who he is from the beginning–a selfish, self-centered, drunk, numbing, cruel, and aggressively blunt horse. Although BoJack is like this, he has a crew of people that do genuinely care about him. From his ex-girlfriend, Princess Caroline, to Todd, his couch surfer he picked up one day, to even Diane, it is clear there are people who care about him. However, BoJack's abusive childhood consistently interferes with his ability to recognize his friends' care for him.  

 

One great thing about this show is all the character arcs. From Todd's self-realization about his asexuality, to Mr. Peanutbutter’s self-actualization about growing up, the arcs are intelligent and unrushed which makes them feel genuine throughout each season.  

 

BoJack isn’t much different from the typical anti-hero of other television shows. His more distasteful traits are tools he uses to run from incredible self-loathing, and they manifest in different ways. The watcher and even his friends give him free passes or excessive understanding for why he is the way he is. There is no obvious way through for either BoJack or the people in his life. Their care about him puts them in either emotional or physical danger, yet they often do it anyway.  

 

Largely this show is about BoJack but it goes in depth to many other characters' lives and how they intertwine with his, such as Sara Lynn and her rise to fame going from a side character on a 70s sitcom she was on with BoJack to a pop star, or Herb and how his identity got him removed from the producing side of the show and how BoJack's lack of loyalty changed the direction of his life forever. 

 

BoJack makes steps throughout the series to become “better” and “happier.” Ultimately, he does fit the arc of an anti-hero finding reform.  

 

But the best thing about this show is its ability to capture very intricate nuances about identity, self-perception, relationships, and awareness, while still holding true to its ironic and clever tone throughout the course of the show.  

 

Watching this show has brought light to some of the nuances and absurdities in my world. If you give it a watch, I’m sure it’ll do the same for you.  

 
 
 

It’s March now, and it’s already spring if you are a meteorologist.  Spring starts March 1, but it’s not yet spring if you are an astronomer. They profess the season of rebirth begins with the spring equinox on March 20, which, at the time of writing this, has not happened yet. So, whether (no pun intended) you fancy yourself a cloud chaser or a star watcher, I think that we can all agree the passage of one season into the next is a strange and wondrous thing. 

 

Poets have taken inspiration from every season since humankind got the itch to show their appreciation, and they scratched it by writing down how the seasons made them feel in prose. While here, in the Northern Hemisphere, the days grow longer, our friends in the Southern Hemisphere are entering their autumn. 

 

Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a type of depression that’s related to the changes of seasons. Most people who experience SAD find that their symptoms begin in the fall and continue into the winter months, with symptoms resolving during the spring and summer months. Less often, SAD causes depression in the spring or early summer and resolves in the fall or winter months, according to the Mayo Clinic. 

 

You might be thinking, what does this have to do with me or my writing

 

Possibly everything. 

 

Writers dedicate themselves entirely to their next masterpiece, spending countless sleepless nights and downing coffee strong enough to strip paint, tweaking that one sentence that is just a little off or googling the perfect synonym. 

 

As much as I admire the work that goes into authorship, writers can lead lifestyles that might pull them into a depression. Their habits become unsustainable in the winter months, leaving them feeling isolated from family and friends, while also facing a wall with their own creative works. 

 

While it might feel like you are stuck in movie-style quicksand, there are a variety of treatments. Phototherapy or exposure to natural light can help, along with a good night's rest, as disrupted sleep patterns may contribute to the disorder. Be sure to include plenty of vegetables and fruits in your diet as well. 

 

Having a daily routine and scheduling regular social outings can provide tremendous benefits. However, don’t expect to be at the top of your game if you are impacted by SAD. The year moves in season, and so should you. Even the Earth isn’t functioning at its peak all the time. Take the time for a break, drink hot chocolate with marshmallows, and enjoy the snowy weather if that’s what Mother Nature has in mind. 


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I never planned to be a “college person.” To me, higher education seemed like a mountain of debt and a one-way ticket out of the town I loved, a gamble that I didn’t want to take. I planned to let the academic world pass me by. 

 

Then there was "Boo-U." 

 

Since this campus sat right in my backyard, the walls that kept me out suddenly crumbled. It wasn’t some daunting, distant institution; it was the building down the road. It offered a low-risk way to test my own potential without the price tag that a traditional university would otherwise charge. I signed up for one class, thinking I would prove myself right and then quit. Rather, what I discovered was a passion I didn’t know I had.  

 

That first semester, I walked into an English class with Katie Kalish. I searched for an exit, but she gave me a reason to stay. She gave me the confidence and the guidance I felt I needed to continue, and school started to be a place where I could be comfortable and really belong. Katie and I continue to talk today, and she is the kind of mentor who molded my life. She not only taught me the way of college writing, but she also proved to me that I was a successful student.  

 

The real magic of this campus, though, is the tight-knit community that makes it so easy to talk to whomever you want on this campus. It’s the kind of place where every teacher is "your" teacher, even if you aren't on their roster. I remember one day spiraling over a speech assignment. I had struggled for hours and was walking into the building frustrated and in tears. As I was heading in, Marc Seals was heading out. He didn’t lead with a lecture; he just pointed out the planes in the sky, making small talk to help me catch my breath. 

 

When he asked if I was okay, I felt comfortable enough to ask him for advice on a class he wasn't even teaching. He stopped, gave me the guidance I needed, and I went home that day and finished my speech. That accessibility, that feeling that a professor will pause their day in the parking lot to help a struggling student, is what made "Boo-U" home. 

 

But the tragedy of the coming closure is not just my story. This campus has long served as a place for those who couldn’t leave Baraboo. It has been where both high school students doing dual-enrollment credits have had a jumpstart in higher education, as well as locals gaining a specific degree in order to move up in a job without relocating their families. You had people you went to high school with, or neighbors who knew you from the grocery store, all trying to figure out their next move in the same hallways. 

 

That is the true heartbreak of losing this place. For many of us, this campus wasn’t just a collection of classrooms; it was the place that gave us the choice to choose. It allowed us to stay rooted in our community while growing our minds. 

 

In the looming final days, I’m incredibly thankful I took that leap. “Boo-U” showed me, and so many of my peers, that we could do more than we ever thought we could. The physical location is closing, but the confidence it afforded a hometown kid who “wasn’t going to college” is here to stay. 

 
 
 

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