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I made time to exercise. The rowing machine was in front of the TV. I voice commanded Xfinity to put on Netflix to find an energetic action show when Christina Applegate’s Production of “Dead to Me” appeared on the screen, so I watched the entire season. How dark and real the human drama ached. It demanded empathy from viewers for so many reasons. It exposed the ease of instant human moral weakness that leads to bad decisions. The sorrow of it makes you understand the sadness of the world. Not only the level of the horrible, awful, morbid, truths but a different kind, a glimpse of genuine, relaxed moments of happiness. It had moments that allow viewers to feel what comfortable friendship and caring feel like, followed by other emotions of betrayal, anger, and forgiveness, and when it was over, I turned the TV off. The cast and show are impressive, performing a story of so many parts, seasoned tastefully and bravely. I moped around the house. Then, slowly, with each step upward on the staircase, I tried to verbalize how I felt. We ‘species homo sapiens’ addressing the existence of deep desperation, tense stress, and unhappiness, evolve because generally, we continually try to improve. The show is an intense study of human psychology told by great acting and scenes. It proves the power of the artistry of the performing arts by making us validate the importance of the telling and understanding of this story. I loved the show because it was a remarkable production. I wondered how I was going to shake the sadness, though. When I got to my bed, it was covered with my work of books, sketches, notes, cards, hints of music and oil paints. I smiled because at that moment, in my heart, I knew without a doubt that my work has the power to transport me, too. It instantly changed the heavy emotion of sympathy for the characters into feeling positive about art and its useful methods and materials to communicate about humanity and move us to think with surprising results.