{"id":527,"date":"2003-11-05T00:36:41","date_gmt":"2003-11-05T08:36:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/?p=527"},"modified":"2008-03-17T13:15:06","modified_gmt":"2008-03-17T21:15:06","slug":"made-for-tv-drama","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/2003\/11\/05\/made-for-tv-drama\/","title":{"rendered":"Made-for-TV drama"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The clich&#233;s, I have to admit, were right. That, too, did pass. Things only got better. What didn&#8217;t kill me made me stronger.<\/p>\n<p>This time last year, I felt like I was falling apart. All at once, my grandma lay in a hospital bed in intensive care, my dad bravely faced surgery and my car gasped its last breaths on the side of the freeway. I threw myself at anyone who would listen, anyone who would help me forget, which resulted in a Christine Record of three dates in one week. Three bad dates in one week.<\/p>\n<p>But, almost magically, things got better. In what the doctors touted as a miracle, Grandma got better. Dad&#8217;s surgery went without a hitch. I said goodbye to my sweet, old car and said hello to a speedy, new one. I never spoke to bachelors #1, 2 or 3 again, and I stopped looking for a #4. Instead, I took a London holiday with a girlfriend, I spent much needed time with family, and I hung out with someone I&#8217;d been beginning to forget: Me.<\/p>\n<p>A year later, and I cannot wipe this ridiculous smile off my face.<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s so strange how a bad day, no matter how recent or long ago, becomes so fuzzy in my memory. Like a made-for-TV movie I caught late one night. I am pretty sure it happened, and I remember it being pretty awful, but today, right now, I feel a hundred times better. I feel like maybe all that bad stuff happened to someone else, somebody still stuck in a frame on a reel of film somewhere at a television studio in Burbank.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The clich&#233;s, I have to admit, were right. That, too, did pass. Things only got better. What didn&#8217;t kill me made me stronger. This time last year, I felt like I was falling apart. All at once, my grandma lay in a hospital bed in intensive care, my dad bravely faced surgery and my car [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/527"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=527"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/527\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=527"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=527"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/maganda.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=527"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}