Ambition, Desire, and a Ridiculous Show

I’ve been watching the show Based on a True Story, and I keep being surprised by what I’m drawn to in it.

It's interesting, because the premise of the show is ridiculous. A married couple discovers their plumber is a serial killer, and in an attempt to better their lives, they decide to blackmail him into making a podcast with them—with the agreement that he will not kill anyone else.

There is drama, bad behavior, a little bit of murder, questions about the morality of capitalism, and a husband and wife who find themselves in an increasingly out-of-control situation with big money on the line.

I’m almost done with the first season. I keep finding myself connecting with characters, scenes, and settings that trigger unexpected responses in me.

First, there’s the serial killer. He’s a plumber, a single dad, and a serial killer. And it turns out he’s wildly ambitious. The way he sees the podcast and immediately imagines it bigger, sharper, more successful than the couple ever does. He thinks in scale. He takes ideas and magnifies them. He moves quickly from vision to action and doesn’t hesitate to push the thing forward.

I really connect with him.

Not who he is.

Not what he does.

But the way of thinking.

The vision.

The ambition.

It touches the parts of me that love to dream big, take ideas and expand them, think innovatively, and take action to make things happen—things I haven’t been doing in quite the same way I once did.

Then there’s a Vegas club scene. Purple light. A heavy bass line you feel more than hear. Bodies moving close, sequins catching the light. People dancing, kissing, wanting each other without hesitation. And what struck me wasn’t novelty. I’ve been putting myself out there. Meeting new people. Saying yes to connection.

What caught my attention was the lack of inhibition.

The ease with which desire moved.

The absence of self-consciousness.

The way no one seemed to be negotiating with themselves before stepping into the moment.

Not performing.

Not second guessing.

Not monitoring how it all looked.

Just being in it.

And threaded throughout the show are these California homes—pools, sunshine, warmth, beauty. Light spilling through open spaces. A sense of possibility that feels tied to climate as much as lifestyle.

I noticed how much my body leaned toward those scenes, especially in contrast to the reality of Ketchikan winters. Wind. Rain. Cold. Gray. Months of darkness that seep into everything.

This show has surprised me.

The ambition energized my mind.

The club scene energized my body.

The sunlight energized my imagination.

Each one felt like a reminder—not of what’s missing, but of what’s available.

I’m paying attention to what I’m drawn to because it’s helping me refine my sense of possibility. Not narrowing it, but widening it. Letting myself imagine bigger ideas, freer movement, warmer days, bolder choices, and a life shaped as much by desire as by responsibility.

A ridiculous show about a couple, a podcast, and a serial killer wasn’t supposed to do any of this.

Yet it did.

It reminded me that ambition can still pull me forward.

That pleasure can feel easy and is nothing to be ashamed of.

That beauty can still invite me to imagine more.

Not someday.

Not abstractly.

But as something real, reachable, and unfolding.

And that feels like standing at the edge of a much wider horizon—

one I’m more than ready to walk toward.