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...make evil of me.
-"Caroline, Or Change"
Okay, after my supremely evil April Fool's joke, I'm writing a serious entry. I know the date is the same, but I swear on the love of Spike and Buffy that everything that follows is absolutely true.
My weekend's been pretty incredible. As usual, I'll bring things up-to-date chronologically.
Friday
Best. Gossip. Session. Ever.
Despite running around carrying heavy baskets full of cheesy prizes, weaving in and out of tables full of ritzy old people, and suffering a splitting headache for most of the night, there are no words to express how glad I am that I did the Chinese auction. Because before we even started working, they put us in a closet.
This is, as I promised, the truth, and any local Interact member can back me up. They wanted us out of the way while everyone was arriving at the country club, so they stuck us all in a big coat closet with pizza, Soda, and a green cake that I suspect was left over from St. Patrick's Day, although it was still delicious. So we sat around, a mix of colorful personalities, with Keith and me as the token quiet geeks, and the non-quiet-geeks got to talking. And talking. And talking. To the point where our poor Interact supervisor left the closet--and eventually, the country club, though she was planning to do that anyway--with the words, "I really can't hear this..."
First it was alcohol. I've never tasted more than a sip in my life. But give me a list of the names of all my schoolmates and I can now tell you with authority who drinks, who doesn't drink, who pretends to drink, and who's a happy drunk or a sappy drunk or an angry drunk, not to mention which drinks to mix, which drinks can kill you if you mix them, how they taste, how they make you feel, all the games you can play that involve them, and every embarrassing or horrifying drunken incident over the past four years.
Next, it was pregnancy, and may I just say: GADZOOKS. I mean, I knew it was a serious issue at my school--I counted at least four or five girls last year, and that was only the ones who were showing and actually had the kids--but now I know way more than I should and even more than I wanted to. On this topic, I really can't go into many specifics, but I will say this: (A.) Connie brought up Sam, who is making no secret of it, and I felt all special because of the historic phone conversation I'd witnessed two days before--it was apparently Sam's married older brother on the other line; (B.) There is currently a pregnant freshman at our school, and it seems to be such a deep, dark secret that I wouldn't mention it if I weren't sure that no locals will ever find this LJ; and (C.) Wow. Just...yikes. I mean...GACK.
From pregnancy, we naturally segued into sex. The answers to all the questions I always find myself wanting to ask people but never, ever asking...have you ever, and when, and even...ack!...with whom. Every juicy, raunchy, scandalously wonderful scrap of gossip that I missed throughout my entire antisocial high-school career emerged in a country-club closet that night.
"Whatever's said in the closet stays in the closet," we all agreed once all was said and done, and now I feel a bit traitorous...but there have been no names, except the open, unsecretive Sam's, so I think I've kept my oath.
Friday Night
This deserves its own section because of a single and, to me, somewhat remarkable event.
I got home from the auction at about 9:30, and the first thing I did, as always, was check my E-mail. I've mentioned before that I have a friend named Lauren on Facebook, a fellow incoming Emerson freshman. Well, we've gotten pretty close over the past couple weeks--posting back and forth on each other's walls, talking fandoms and other common interests--and on Friday night, I found a new post in which she asked me if I wanted to be roommates.
Since then, we've exchanged several more messages. There are a few complications. One of them is the matter of Writer's Block. Although Lauren isn't a writing major--she's Print & Multimedia Journalism--she is a writer and feels comfortable among writers, but she's still unsure if she wants to apply to a learning community. Although I'm encouraging her to do so, I eventually told her to let me know the verdict, because I'm with her either way. The number of things we have in common is positively eerie, and I would rather room with her than any stranger, even a fellow WLP.
Another complication is my beloved cousin, Molly, who is the awesomest person in the world (and not just because she might be reading this :-P) and who has also been accepted at Emerson. But since Molly's still considering her many options, we can only wait to see how that turns out. In the meantime, I'm just thrilled to have met a sort of Emerson soulmate.
Saturday
Weird day, but ultimately satisfying. I watched more Brimstone--I'll post those reviews if I ever finish them--and worked on the infamous novel and other odds and ends. When the time came, my dad drove me to a nearby elementary school to work at the Senior Citizens' Social with--once again--the Interact Club. And that's when things got seriously weird.
Daddy and I had some sort of tiff in the school parking lot. (No, we don't usually fight this much. I suppose this was just a bad week for us.) I can't even remember the subject of said tiff, but it caused me to huff off without taking the cell phone he tried to give me. He drove away, I went into the school...and I quickly discovered that the Senior Citizens' Social has changed considerably since sophomore year, the last time I helped with it. The lady in charge was strict and intimidating. Instead of serving food from behind a table, each student was to be assigned to a specific group of senior citizens. We were instructed to tend to our specified groups all evening, fetching them food and drinks and...socializing with them. Talking, listening, laughing. Being "polite" and "bubbly" and "enthusiastic." The boss lady actually said at one point, "All the compliments we got last year were for the high-school students, so you should try to live up to that."
Here's where everyone gets to discover the actual extent of my social phobia. No one had taken any particular notice of my arrival, and I turned around and walked right out of the building. A few minutes later, I found myself lost in a downtown neighborhood I didn't know, finally coming across the train station, contemplating it (no money for tickets), contemplating a pay phone (not so much as a quarter in my pocket), contemplating asking a random guy for some quarters (he looked skeazy), and finally, walking into a jewelry store and asking to use the phone so I could call Daddy to come pick me up.
The up side to this story? In the process of picking me up, he decided to stop at a local bookstore he used to like. But when we walked in, we discovered that it is no longer a bookstore. It's an absolutely darling little New-Agey café, with a friendly owner named Jeny, bohemian-ish regular customers, coffee, tea, pastries, Poetry Nights every Friday, and wireless access being employed by a young man who was clicking away on his laptop. By the time I left, I had stars in my eyes and dreams of taking the train there on my own every weekend, with Gaius Baltar loaded into a backpack or just a notebook and pen in my hand, and going all J.K. Rowling. I don't think you've heard the last of this café.
We also watched the Season 2 finale of Battlestar Galactica. More on that another time.
Sunday
I remembered to say "Rabbit, rabbit" first thing in the morning to bring me good luck all month, and I played a total of ten successful April Fool's jokes: switching all the cereal bags; stuffing Daddy's shoes with newspaper; turning everything in the bathroom upside-down; changing the wallpaper on the family computer to say, "Tons of UFOs...not!" (It's a palindrome!); calling our phone repeatedly with one of the cell phones and then hanging up; writing the infamous trick entry in this very LJ; convincing Mommy that I was asleep minutes before we had to leave for the musical; and convincing Daddy, in gleeful succession, that a certain boy had come to visit Kate at college, that I had lost his ten-dollar bill, and that there were raccoons in the backyard.
I also sent Tree a Happy Birthday E-mail in Italian. I hope you're having an amazing time, love! Although I'm still not sure why you're in Italy. ^_^
"Caroline, Or Change." Although Joss Whedon is unquestionably God, Tony Kushner may be a demi-god. I started out intrigued by the musical, then confused and somewhat nonplussed, and ultimately, completely hooked, stunned, and deeply moved. Nothing less from the writer of "Angels in America."
It was one song that really did it. I quoted the final lines of it at the beginning of this entry. It's called "Lot's Wife", although it only has one reference to the biblical story, and I'd copy all the lyrics here if I thought it would convey some idea of how powerful it was, but I don't think it would work. Long story short, though, the main character, a black maid named Caroline, ends up exchanging ethnic slurs with an eight-year-old over a twenty-dollar bill. She doesn't go to work for a week afterward, her friend can't convince her to quit outright, and finally, she goes to church and starts a rant that turns into a prayer that turns into a long, passionate, absolutely gorgeous belted solo. The actress who played Caroline was an amazing singer and actress, and I could see, hear, and feel the whole audience reacting; a few people actually started applauding right in the middle of the song. I had tears in my eyes about halfway through, and by the end of the song, they were streaming down my face. God, I love things that make me cry like that.
Well, I should go, my loves. But to end on a truly optimistic note: only four days of school this week. Spring break starts on Friday and lasts ten days. :-)
-S.W. Current Mood:  touched
Current Music: "Caroline, Or Change"
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...and I can find hell on my own.
-"Jekyll and Hyde"
Well, this week kind of sucks.
Yesterday, school dragged on forever (even though I was not, thank Goddess, called upon to make my speech yet). When I got home, I reminded my mother about the Interact night at Friendly's, where they get 10% of the profits from all customers between 5:00 and 8:00. This is sort of a big week for Interact, incidentally. Anyway, she had me call Daddy at work to ask him if he wanted to go, and from that simple phone call arose a stupid fight that involved conflicting plans for Ocean City and New York this summer and all sorts of other nonsense. We did end up going to Friendly's, but the parents spent the whole time hemming and hawing about the beach house they're attempting to rent and how Aunt Lynn is such a passive-aggressive martyr for always sleeping on the floor and letting the twins have the bed. Friendly's was also swarming with Interact people, which was to be expected. Connie and Sam came to sell us a 50/50 ticket, and they totally pretended not to know me. It was obviously just for fun, but still rather odd.
That brings me to the most interesting part of Wednesday evening, and because the only people who read this journal are faraway Internet friends and my sister, I suppose it's safe to write about it. Sam was standing right in front of me, still trying to talk my parents into buying that ticket, when her phone rang. She answered it, listened for a minute, and then started squealing, "It's a girl!? Really!? I'm gonna have a niece!?" Then she said, very fast, in one breath, and I quote: "Guess what? I'm pregnant!" and hung up the phone.
So Sam's finally getting what she wanted. I really don't know what to feel. For one thing, I've barely seen or talked to her all year--she's not in any of my classes and hardly involved in Interact anymore, and from what I hear, she works all the time. For another thing, she's 18 years old, still in high school, and a former junkie. She's supposedly engaged, and I don't even know what to think of that, although her ring is pretty gorgeous. I also know that she's good with kids and spent a lot of time taking care of her ex's baby nephew, but this, of course, is completely different. I've always liked Sam a lot, and it's not my place to judge anyway. I can only wish her the best of luck.
Post-Friendly's, the only notable things I did last night were miss the first five minutes of Lost and have another heated fight with Daddy that involved me throwing the remote control against the wall. Yeah, only one of you has actually encountered that side of me. Aside from that, Lost was pretty much an eyebrow-raiser, the shining moment of which was Hurley's priceless eulogy: "Nikki and Paulo. I guess we didn't know you very well. And it appears that you killed each other for diamonds." I think those two got cooler deaths (if they are indeed ultimately dead, and how shuddery was that last scene?) than any of the real cast members. The whole thing was ridiculous and bizarre, but that's kind of Lost's M.O., isn't it? The point is, it was great fun, and that's all I really ask for from Lost.
Which brings me to today. Still no speech-making for me; the "eenie-meenie-miney-moe" gods smile upon me. (Not kidding, by the way. That's actually how Mrs. R.'s been selecting people.) Also, I love Miss G. She let us have a cracker party. Apparently, the nurse is being forced to stop selling her famous packaged peanut-butter and cheese crackers, since the Hall Nazi caught some kid with them and he wouldn't turn them over to her. Whatever. The result was a blowout sale, so Miss G. let Connie take money and orders from all of us and go down to the nurse's office to help buy her out, and we spent the first ten minutes of Spanish class munching away. (I love how some of the teachers have totally exploitable weaknesses; Miss G.'s is food, of course, and for my math teacher, Ms. S., it's gossip or word puzzles. Use those particular methods sparingly on those particular teachers, especially when a substantial number of students are absent, and you will slash any classwork to the bone or eliminate it altogether.)
On the not-so-bright side, I've decided that the crackers were poisoned. Cosette and I both had stomachaches by eighth period, and I came home only to grump at Mommy, overdose on liquid Tylenol because I'm a baby who hates pills, and flop in bed to watch hours of Brimstone on YouTube.
"Hours of what?" you may ask. Well, I was saving the best for last. New fandom. What can I say? I'm a fandom whore. But the fun things about this one are that I can almost guarantee none of you has ever seen or heard of it and you can watch it for free.
Brimstone: a genre show that I had never heard of (*gasp*) that ran for 13 episodes before FOX cancelled it despite its quality and high potential (try not to die of shock). A show about an undead man who is not, in fact, a vampire, but a highly-decorated policeman named Ezekiel "Zeke" Stone whose wife was raped seventeen years before the pilot. He tracked down and killed her rapist, but two years later, he himself was killed in the line of duty and went to hell for the murder he committed. Fifteen years after that, the devil found himself in a bit of a pickle; 113 damned souls staged a mass escape from his fiery kingdom. With his rep on the line and more than a little pressure from on high, the devil selected one of his more trustworthy "children" to track down all the escaped souls and return them to hell, offering a carrot for his trouble: another chance at life on earth if he succeeded. Zeke, of course, was the man he chose.
I learned all this from a Zeke/Devil entry in--wait for it--the 'Ship Manifesto. And thanks to the blessing of YouTube, I've now seen the first few episodes of a show that is not out on DVD or VHS or even readily available in the form of illegal downloads. I fell in love with Zeke--in a mostly platonic sense--in the first five minutes of the pilot. The devil is John Glover. How can you go wrong?
I'm actually thinking of writing Brimstone reviews. It reminds me of Angel; as soon as I saw the opening shots of the pilot, zooming through a glittering, ominous city, I felt a familiar excitement. And Zeke's definitely got Angel-like qualities. He's undead, nearly invincible, and working toward a second chance at humanity. People are frequently uneasy in his presence, but they're just as frequently attracted to him. Everyone's always mistaking him for the bad guy, only to be soothed by the disarming gentleness he often displays with the living. Angel sometimes showed that same tenderness with the people he helped, the victims of the week, and it always got to me, although I have a very complicated relationship with that character. In short, I hated him on Buffy with a blind passion, then came to love him once he got his own show, except for those times when he went back to annoying the hell out of me.
All things considered, it's probably a good thing that, striking parallels aside, Zeke isn't Angel. Zeke's mind is still on revenge, not redemption. He doesn't wear a leather coat, have stupid hair, or try to break the world record for brooding. He's scruffy, snarky, and admirably unflappable--except when it comes to any mention or memory of his wife, Rosalyn. And, negating any other comparison to Angel, Zeke is definitely not a dork.
For the record, I don't think I'm on board with the Zeke/Devil 'ship. Their relationship is absolutely delightful, but it doesn't give off the scorching slash vibes that I seem to require. Maybe Angel/Lindsey and Mulder/Krycek are the only flukes in my canon-loving heart.
After finishing the Brimstone pilot, I just sat back and thought, That was frakking awesome, and that hasn't happened since I started Battlestar. Best of all, it's a super-obscure show that even Billie hasn't discovered. (I have this chronic Cannot-Compete-With-Billie-Doux syndrome that's gotten in the way of several attempts at reviewing. ^_^) So I'm working on organizing my thoughts into some semblance of coherence, and in the meantime, I honestly encourage people to give the brief, unorthodox little show a try. As fandoms go, it's a pretty lonely one, and I could use some company.
I mentioned that this is a banner week for Interact; tomorrow, I'm working at the Chinese auction, and on Saturday, I'm doing the Senior Citizens' Social again. So you'll probably be hearing about more wacky community-service antics. In the meantime, peace.
-S.W.Current Mood:  grumpy
Current Music: "Jekyll and Hyde"
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...come away with me and we'll see
If I was right on that night
That a future was made.
-"What About Everything?" by Carbon Leaf
I love that song, and it's been stuck in my head all day.
In my very first entry, I said that I have "virtually nothing resembling a social life." That wasn't entirely accurate; I do have a social life online, and it's been in full swing this week, and particularly today. Therefore, I think some shout-outs are in order:
*To Andrea/Spitball, a dear old lodging-house friend who resurfaced last night (or maybe I resurfaced, since I'm the one who went AWOL for a while). We got to discuss SATs, college, musicals, Harry Potter, hair, our never-ending nostalgia for the Manhattan Lodging House and the Sunrise Lodging House (the boards of which Zippy has been generous enough to unlock! Yay!), and of course, Hogwarts Daily--which I have a few questions about, love, that I hope we can discuss soon, because it really is very tempting. O:-)
*To Lauren, Alexa, and Samantha, three awesome potential Emerson classmates who I just met on Facebook. LJ-stalking/comments are encouraged! Even if it's just to tell me how crazy I am!
Okay, some promised elaboration on last night's Krycek Madness. Yes, my obsession remains. I'm still desperate to get my hands on some X-Files, and I'm debating the pros and cons of Netflix vs. Amazon--although the latter is sort of irrelevant at the moment, since I'm kind of, um, broke. (And with a filthy-rich sister who refuses to be my patron of the arts...because obsessing over hot slash is totally an art...)
On my hero/villain 'shipping habit: seriously, it's chronic. I might enjoy or root for other 'ships, but out of the handful that have become full-fledged OTPs, only one fails to fall at least loosely under that category: Willow/Tara from Buffy. The others--Spike/Buffy, pre-Season-3 Logan/Veronica, Angel/Lindsey, Keller/Beecher, Mulder/Krycek, even Rhett/Scarlett from Gone With the Wind--all start out with strong mutual hostility between a protagonistic and an antagonistic character and then progress to boatloads of UST that may or may not evolve into an actual relationship. I'm not sure how to describe why this sort of romance appeals to me so strongly. It's involuntary, practically physical. You have the angst, the passion, the occasional tenderness and protectiveness that just break your heart and leave you breathlessly wanting more when the characters swing back into snark or combat mode. Also, at the risk of angering Kate with her beloved unrepentant villains, I get a huge rush out of stories of redemption and sacrifice when they're done right. Spike, of course, is the poster child for that--just as Lindsey McDonald from Angel is the poster child for tragically failed redemption.
On Krycek and Lindsey: it's fairly evident to me that the latter was at least partially, slightly based on the former. They share several characteristics--the moral ambiguity, the bad suits, the tumultuous (and UST-laden) relationships with the heroes of their respective shows (which include the habit of being beaten up and/or handcuffed by them), and most strikingly of all, the loss of a hand (although Mulder doesn't cut off Krycek's). Finally--cue the tears of anguish--they both end up dead, though in singularly different ways. Krycek is killed by Mulder's compatriot and right in front of Mulder, but not by him or on his orders. He briefly re-appears to Mulder in some ghostly form in the series finale of the show--to help him out and save his life, which does such good things to my heart. Lindsey, on the other hand, survives to see his show's series finale and to help out his own nemesis/"lover", Angel--only to be murdered by Angel's flunky. Tragedy. Heartbreak. What went wrong? Was there more hatred in the Angel/Lindsey relationship? Odd, if so, considering Krycek did much more damage directly to Mulder and his loved ones than Lindsey ever did to Angel and his. Was Mulder simply more passive than Mr. Godmoding Save-the-World-and-Kill-all-the-Lawyers? Or was it all because Krycek had prettier eyes?
On vulnerability vs. moxie: In my recent love affair with the 'Ship Manifesto, I came across a few false starts before hitting pay dirt with Mulder/Krycek. One of them was Blake/Avon from the British sci-fi show Blake's 7. The essay on the 'ship piqued my interest, especially with the writer's heavy Spuffy comparisons and "Once More, With Feeling" lyrics, but after following my time-honored tradition of devouring spoilers at Wikipedia, I found that I couldn't stomach the ending. Despite a rather startling similarity to the Angel/Lindsey ending, it's too harsh for my tastes, and the two characters in general are too, well...manly. Their relationship seems to consist solely of a constant struggle for dominance, which really isn't my thing. The other 'ship that I considered was Jack/Ianto from Torchwood, the Dr. Who spinoff that's kind of intrigued me for a while. Imagine my delight at finding several Torchwood episodes on YouTube--and my dismay when I discovered that, in addition to the show being, in my opinion, rather atrocious in general, the semi-turncoat Ianto is prone to sobbing hysterically throughout confrontations with the hero, Jack, and blubbering out excuses for himself. Honestly, it was downright embarrassing. I like my morally ambiguous babies--Spike, Lindsey, Krycek, etc.--to strike the right balance; they can be vulnerable, tender, or fearful, questioning and seeking to justify their actions and motives, but when it comes right down to it, they've got to break out the fangs, the sledgehammer, or the gun, to display the moxie of a true villain, giving those face-offs with their heroic nemesis/lovers the appropriate tension and heat.
Can you believe that after three hefty paragraphs of rambling about my 'ship preferences, I still have plenty to add to this entry?
Bits and Pieces
*Yesterday, I took the train to a certain nearby town (paranoia prevents me from naming it), bought goodies at the local candy store, picked up a pineapple mirror at the antique store (no, I don't know what I was thinking either), and browsed the library. Hey, I had fun. My recreational expectations are pretty low. (Or I'm just saving myself for Boston. Talk about a change of pace.)
*I made Daddy watch Truly, Madly, Deeply with me. Moustached Alan Rickman was a delight, and it's a sweet, smart, and amusing movie. Ultimately, however, I prefer my Snape with the dreadful black wig and the sneer.
*The parents and I have tickets for a musical in Philly next Sunday: "Caroline, Or Change" by Tony Kushner, the writer of Angels in America, which I have never seen performed but which is, for the record, my favorite movie of all time. This new musical got an absolutely glowing review, so I'm super-excited. It makes the prospect of school tomorrow (and all...week...long *groan*) that much more bearable.
*Speaking of musicals, Alexa has just introduced me to "Spring Awakening." I never heard of it before in my life, but the lyrics are amazing, and I intend to go after the recording ASAP.
I really debated whether to mention this (especially with Tree in the vicinity...I can only hope you have long since wisely lost interest, my dear), but I'm working on "Bittersweet" and "Appassionata" updates. It's purely for my own sense of closure, or so I tell myself; I want the damn things finished, despite the fact that I am now fully aware that they're practically the pinnacle of cliché, amateur, Mary-Sue Newsies fic. (I'm amazed that I can even still pull off that accent.) Whether these updates will ever see the light of day is another question, and whether anyone but me will care is highly unlikely, so this isn't a plug; just another mention of something that's been occupying my time and attention.
Battlestar. Like the three-part Cain mutiny a while back, "Downloaded" was what the esteemed Billie Doux calls "gasp-out-loud good." I was seriously sitting there gaping after we finished it, then babbling incoherently because it was so unbelievably...well, good. Seeing the resurrection procedures for Six and Sharon One (a.k.a. Boomer), their everyday lives among the Cylons on Caprica, and the incredible evolution of both characters was breathtaking. Those two are so not just Cylons anymore (well, the Sharons never really were); they're people to us now, no question--characters we love and care about. They have each fallen in love with a human, bonded over the experience, murdered their own ally, spared Anders' life (even giving him back his gun and Starbuck's charm), and, in what I consider one of the most stunning moments of the series, clasped hands and vowed to do everything they can to end the Cylon/human war in what little time they have before D'Anna resurrects. What the frak is going to happen to those two? I have no idea, but I can't wait to find out.
The other two factors that just clinched the episode's brilliance for me: the unexpected touchingness of the Starbuck/Anders reunion and the hilarious, priceless fact that Six has her very own Harvey Gaius. I made the observation that both Harvey Six and Harvey Gaius are a lot colder, snarkier, and meaner than their real-life counterparts. Well, Real Gaius is pretty snarky too...but the point, I think, is that these characters are the representatives and advocates of their respective races, however ill-equipped they might both be for that role. (GAIUS BALTAR, for gods' sake! I mean, I love the guy to bits, but there's that whole thing where he's a self-centered, duplicitous, formerly uber-cowardly jerk.) Anyway, the Harveys, wherever the hell they come from, are the manifestations of Gaius and Six's pivotal roles in the whole scheme of things, so they've got to be tough and manipulative.
This entry is sinfully long. And I need to clean my room. It's been a minefield since that bloody research paper, and now that I've been home for a week and barely touched it, it's also a disgrace. Love to any and all readers! Wish me luck with the minefield and putting my nose back to the academic grindstone.
-S.W.Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Carbon Leaf
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...now I realize
Everything worth living for
Is there, in his eyes.
-"Jekyll and Hyde"
*Image from The X-Files Wiki
That is why this picture is officially titled "OMG-THE-EYES."
I wanted a much closer close-up, but this was the best I could do while hunting for a decent screencap at half past midnight for an LJ entry that I know I will regret in the morning.
10 Reasons to Love
1. His name is Alex. Alex Krycek. I have something of a history with Alexes.
2. The eyes. Obviously.
3. The speaking of Russian.
4. The way he flips a gun in his hand. (See links in previous entry.)
5. The moral ambiguity. Naturally.
6. The Lindsey parallels. More on that tomorrow.
7. A hero/villain 'ship: my cup of tea. Again, more tomorrow.
8. Just the right balance of vulnerability and moxie. An overdose of either one is always a risk. (Elaboration...examples...tomorrow, of course. Whether you want them or not. *evil grin...evil, tired grin*)
9. He's always getting handcuffed. In canon.
10. ...the eyes!? I really need to find a better close-up to impress upon you the full glory of those eyes.
Well, from an academic standpoint in a course on StoryWitch psychology, we now have on record the time span it takes me to develop a full-fledged obsession. Approximately five and a half hours.
I just had a reunion and a long, wonderful conversation with the lovely Spitball, and I will write more about that, and about many other things. Tomorrow.
Zzzzzzzz
-S.W. Current Mood: geeky
Current Music: "Jekyll and Hyde"
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...after every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet.
-"(I Hate) Everything About You" by Three Days Grace
Finally, weaned off of "Bat Boy." For the moment, anyway. You know how there's this thing that happens sometimes in the life of a fangirl? It's a rare moment, at least for me, and usually an unexpected one. You're bored, browsing around online, when you come across something. Maybe it's a quotation, an exchange between a couple of fictional characters you've never heard of or only read about in passing. Maybe it's a picture of one of those characters or two of them together. It could be an episode transcript, a fanfic, an essay, a sound clip. Anything.
But when you discover it, something happens. You feel a little tingly. You stare a bit too long. There might be a slight sensation of heat or cold or both at once, and a shiver runs down your spine. In that instant, you know in your bones that this is only the beginning. And you know this because an intense wave of desire overtakes you. You want more--more quotes, more pictures, more fanfics, essays, or sound clips. You want the movie or show itself, all the DVDs, everything, right now if you please. Because in that moment, you find yourself hooked and helpless to escape. Not hooked on a new fandom, mind you--nothing so small and insignificant could give you the scope of an entire fandom--but hooked on a character. One character--or one 'ship--or both simultaneously--that you fall for hard enough to suck you straight into the fandom and all it entails.
This has happened to me only a few times; the first and most memorable example is a certain peroxide-haired vampire and his tumultuous love/hate affair with his ex-nemesis. In that case, the hook took the form of two simple exchanges, one of which I read at a lovely site called the Buffyverse Dialogue Database:
BUFFY: "You think we're dancing?"
SPIKE: "That's all we've ever done."
As for the other, I actually listened to it, in the form of a Midi, after reading a bit of background:
BUFFY: "I love you."
SPIKE: "No, you don't...but thanks for saying it."
It was after hearing that sound clip that I burst into tears...having never seen a single moment of the show or even a picture of either character. The rest, as this LJ has already made obvious, is history.
Anyway, that was over two years ago, and such moments of revelation have since been few and far between. But I had one tonight.
Any thoughts from my sweet commenters? Am I crazy to get myself mixed up with an old sci-fi classic that went on forever and supposedly plunged in quality, its morally ambiguous villain who looks ungodly gorgeous even with the worst of haircuts, and a slashy 'ship between said villain and the hero?
Not that I have much of a choice now. ^^'
Trying to calculate how long it would take to Netflix an entire show with my cheapskate two-DVD-a-month plan...
-S.W. Current Mood: rejuvenated
Current Music: Three Days Grace
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...surely it's more than wine
So dance with me, darling
Show them that you're still mine.
-"Bat Boy: The Musical"
I'm a little worried about my devotion to this journal. More accurately, I'm worried about what will happen when I'm off to school again on Monday. The problem with keeping up a journal or doing anything else on a regular basis during the school week, besides the obvious obstacles of homework and studying, is that I generally come home feeling physically and mentally exhausted. I just want to collapse on my bed and read or watch DVDs, and anything obligatory, from my morning and evening devotions to flossing, becomes an annoyance that I'm tempted to avoid. I still end up going through with them, though, and I'm hoping I'll still be able to enjoy my little LJ.
So, the dentist on Wednesday was a good news/bad news deal. The good news: they didn't actually do anything to me other than a couple of X-rays. (Of course, that in itself is an ordeal. Like always, the lady had to try at least a dozen times to get the little X-ray device in my mouth, and there was much gagging, tongue-squashing, and accusatory exclaiming of, "You have such a small mouth!") Anyway, they were supposed to fill my cavity, but that brings me to the bad news. Apparently, the "cavity" shows up on the X-rays as a shadow below my gumline; it may be decay, or it may just be a shadow. They have to know for sure before they start drilling into my tooth, but they can't ascertain anything yet because the stupid shadow is blocked by one of my wisdom teeth. So now I have to make an appointment with an oral surgeon, get that wisdom tooth removed along with a bit of gum tissue, and then head back to the dentist so they can deal with the potential cavity. Rubi, I will now feel at least half your pain. (But, hey--nitrous oxide!)
Wednesday night, I was up till 2:00 again, this time with my newest addiction: the 'Ship Manifesto. And, Goddess help me, I think I'm finally succumbing to the dark side; I'm starting to get into slash. My problem with slash has never been the homosexual aspect (see lovely Willow/Tara picture and Keller/Beecher reference in previous entry) but the fact that it isn't canon. I like my 'ships to have hot kisses, tasteful love scenes, grand displays of devotion. I've never fancied sifting through layers of subtext, squealing every time one member of my pairing touches the other's arm or something. But now? Now I have to go and read a handful of extremely passionate and well-written essays about these imaginary relationships, and the result? I've started seeing it everywhere. This is the part where you get to laugh maniacally, Kate; it is everywhere, it's not just you and your crazy friends, and it's not just anime.
Lost on Wednesday: in my opinion, the only memorable moments were Sayid telling Alex she looked like her mother (that whole scene with the swingset was vaguely creepy), Danielle watching her from the foliage, and of course, Locke's dad throwing him out the window and appearing on the island at the end, bound, gagged, and awaiting retribution. I can't tell you how weird it is to see Snyder from Newsies, a.k.a. Vic from Rose Red, a.k.a. Nick's Dad from Freaks and Geeks, as the Evil Kidney Thief, who is probably also the original "Frank Sawyer." Does Kevin Tighe never rest, or is he deliberately stalking me? Oh, and Sawyer needs to lay off the books and get out there and find Kate before the Jackass gets his claws back into her. Especially if he's going to be reading Ayn Rand.
I just had one of those long, rambling philosophical discussions with Daddy, this one revolving mostly around the nature or possibility of selfless love, and selflessness in general, with him referencing Shakespeare all over the place and reading me endless notes on A Winter's Tale that I didn't understand a word of, and me referencing Buffy all over the place and struggling to explain the difference between Spike's selfish love for Buffy before he earned a soul and his 'pure' love for her after he earned it. Why the long, rambling discussions with such a communication gap? I think we just like to hear ourselves talk. ^_^
Yesterday was a dream, by the way: 70 degrees out. Unbelievable. I spent most of it just wandering around town and lounging on the swing in the backyard. If I could devise an afterlife for myself, it would look something like that. Except something exciting would occasionally happen.
Grandma Ginny and Grandaddy came for dinner last night, and then Mommy, Grandma, and I went back to their house to watch the second Harry Potter movie on their new giant screen. This is where you really know you have crossed the fangirl point of no return: converting your grandmother to Harry Potter. She's already on Half-Blood Prince and, like any sane person, prefers the books to the movies.
My latest HP observations:
*Moaning Myrtle is one of the awesomest characters in any of the movies, and it makes me remember how much I love her in the books as well. I find the Myrtle/Draco friendship in HBP completely adorable and intriguing, and while it seems quite unlikely, I hope it's further explored or at least mentioned in the last book.
*In the movie, there were seven snakes on the inner door to the Chamber of Secrets. I counted several times. Seven snakes, seven Horcruxes. I'm just saying.
*Good gracious, the Snape/Harry relationship is hot...and I am not talking slash here. I'm still not on board with pedophilia, thanks. For me, 'hot' is also a word for really good writing or character interaction, the kind that gives you tingles and chills. While it's no secret that I adore Snape (and am fully on board with the 'Dumbledore told him to' theory, which I actually thought of all on my own right after finishing the book and before ever seeing it online), I've always felt uncomfortable with the extreme hatred he feels for Harry, and vice versa. Lately, though, I've realized that it's actually fascinating: the way Harry inherited his father's (and Sirius's) prejudices, the way the roles were reversed (with Snape bullying Harry just as James used to bully him at school), the way "Snape's Worst Memory" dramatically if briefly changed Harry's perception of Snape and James, the whole 'Snape loved Lily' possibility, and most of all, the way their relationship intensifies in the two latest books, with the Occlumency lessons, Harry's shockingly blatant cheek in Book 6 ("No need to call me 'sir', Professor"--I completely forgot about that!), and of course, a certain murder and the 'half-blood prince' revelation. There are a hell a lot of plotlines to be wrapped up in Deathly Hallows, but there is none I am looking forward to more than this one.
This morning, I finally watched Howl's Moving Castle in Japanese. It was more-or-less exactly the same as the dub, except that, as Kate warned me, Sophie's voice wasn't as cool, while Howl's was even sexier. I didn't like Calcifer's Japanese voice much, either. Overall, I think I prefer the dub, if only because I would rather watch something in my native language unless it's a total travesty (e.g. Sailor Moon, Rayearth, and as far as I can tell, most other anime dubs). Anyway, a couple points I was reminded of that I didn't mention before: I really love the Howl/Calcifer relationship and the gorgeous catch-a-falling-star scene that Sophie witnesses in Howl's past. "Wait for me in the future!" So romantic.
One thing I'm proud of: when first watching Howl in English, I speculated that the frequent and unusual use of the word "'kay" (as an abbreviation for "okay") was probably a replacement, syllable-wise, for hai, and the Japanese version proved me right! Also, why do they always translate onei-san as the person's name? Why not go with "big sister" or just "sister"? It's a little distracting, since it's obvious that the character is not, in fact, using the person's name. Okay, enough amateurish Japanese talk for Kate to nitpick at.
Buffy: Season 8. The first issue finally came today. I really wish I could ramble incoherently about its brilliance, but my strongest impression: That was SO SHORT. I read it at the kitchen table in about two minutes. I almost cried. What can I say? I'm a total comic-book novice, and the only ones I own--Fray, Runaways, and Young Avengers--are great big collections containing multiple issues. Now I'm in a bit of an awkward position; waiting for such an edition of Buffy would be agony, and I would probably be spoiled through the roof, either accidentally or due to a lack of willpower, by the time it came out, but I don't know if I can endure or even afford these flimsy little issues once a month.
That said, Buffy still seems Buffyish, Xander's gotten hotter, I'm actually feeling for Giant!Dawn, and Amy's looking downright scary. I think it's off to a promising start, but it will never touch the show; Joss or no Joss, it will never come close. It may be canon, but it's not canon, if that makes any sense, which it does not, unless you're a passionate Buffy fan who sees the most glorious of television worlds reduced to comic-book form. It's all good, though. I've always seen "Chosen" as a satisfying end for Buffy; "canon" or not, the comics are just for fun.
My latest Netflix movie arrived: Truly, Madly, Deeply, not to be confused with the song. I get to see Snape as a ghost with a moustache! More later.
-S.W. Current Mood: cheerful
Current Music: Still "Bat Boy"
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...if you have clothing, forsake it
We want you breathless and naked.
-"Bat Boy: The Musical"
Okay, there's something you should all know about me right now, and it's not nearly as exciting as you might hope after those lyrics. ^_^ I'm part Virgo, born on the Leo-Virgo cusp. I like to think I possess a few aspects of the Lion...the pride, the passion, even the love of attention in certain scenarios, though you would never guess it when meeting me in person for the first time. But one Virgo characteristic is more pronounced in me than in anyone else I know: the love of lists. It gets to the point of an O.C.D.-like symptom, where I am compulsively making long, pointless lists, either in my head or in writing. It's annoying and distracting. But occasionally, when I'm bored, I will make a fun, semi-relevant list for my own amusement. And now that I have unfortunately been unleashed upon the realm of LiveJournal, I will subject you to the product of my boredom.
StoryWitch's Top 10 Sexiest Songs
10. "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden. I wanna stand with you on a mountain
I wanna bathe with you in the sea
I want to live like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me. When my music collection was considerably less extensive, this was my ideal love song, the one I applied to all the couples I 'shipped or wrote. These days, it's still gorgeous and sweet, though the seduction factor pales in comparison to later discoveries. 9. "Rest in Peace" from "Once More, With Feeling." But I follow you like a man possessed
There's a traitor here beneath my breast
And it hurts me more than you've ever guessed
If my heart could beat, it would break my chest. I would be lying through my teeth (or my keyboard, as it were) if I claimed that the singer and recipient of this song had nothing to do with why it makes me swoon. It will always be irreversibly tied to the image of Buffy landing on top of Spike as they fall into a grave. Mmm. Still, this verse is undeniably hot and powerful. 8. "Temptation" by Billy Joel. Kate once complained that the way Billy Joel sings the chorus of this song sounds "old-fashioned." I don't see it, honestly, but it isn't the chorus that makes me shiver, anyway; it's two other verses. The first is fairly straightforward: And I try to be rational
And I try to be wise
But it all gets blown to pieces
When I look in her eyes. The second possibly gets to me because it molds with eerie perfection to several of my favorite 'ships: Spike/Buffy, Sawyer/Kate, Logan/Veronica in its heyday, even Keller/Beecher from Oz: And I lose my composure
I could use some restraint
I never claimed to be a hero,
And I never said I was a saint.
See? The anthem of heroine/villain 'shippers everywhere.
7. "Light My Candle" from "RENT." It's nothing, they turned off my heat
And I'm just a little weak on my feet
Would you light my candle? This one is all about the double entendre, although it takes Mimi and Roger's sultry looks and gestures to achieve the full effect. The chemistry you can hear between them in this song is what first turned me on to "RENT."
6. "As Long as You're Mine" from "Wicked." Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight
I need help believing you're with me tonight
My wildest dreamings could not foresee
Lying beside you, with you wanting me. Elphaba is probably tied with Eponine from "Les Mis" as my biggest musical girlcrush. With these lyrics and Idina Menzel's voice, the sexiness pretty much speaks for itself.
5. "Supernatural Serenade" by The Hungry Ghost. I see the moon is full tonight
Demanding I accept the wicked chill with grace
I will be sure to leave my guilt behind
As I reach for your embrace Hide these eyes that once was blind to you
Take back this heart for refusing to feel your pain
Give me nothing, and I'll grant you the power
To enter my domain. At some point last year, I decided that there was a tie for the hottest lines ever sung: Sarah McLachlan singing the first verse of "Possession" and The Hungry Ghost singing, "To enter my domain." I can't imagine a better goth love ballad, and there must be a bit more goth in me than I realized.
4. "Dangerous Game" from "Jekyll and Hyde."
I feel your fingers cold on my shoulder
Your chilling touch as it runs down my spine
Watching your eyes as they invade my soul
Forbidden pleasures I'm afraid to make mine
At the touch of your hand
At the sound of your voice
At the moment your eyes meet mine
I am out of my mind
I am out of control
Full of feelings I can't define. I seem to remember that Tree agrees with me on this one. Lucy/Hyde...taking scorching-hot relationships that you really shouldn't support to a whole new level. If only her sexy singing could cure him of those pesky homicidal tendencies.
3. "Under Your Spell" from "Once More, With Feeling."
 The moon to the tide
I can feel you inside
I'm under your spell
Surging like the sea
Holding you so helplessly
I break with every swell
Lost in ecstacy
Spread beneath my willow tree
You make me complete. Do I really need to say anything? 2. "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan. Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide
Voices trapped in yearning, mem'ries trapped in time
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied? And I would be the one to hold you down
Kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes, dear. I have vivid memories of discovering this song. I found the lyrics one night in a list that a fellow Buffy fan had made of songs that reminded her of Spuffy. I downloaded it on iTunes and listened to it about twenty times in a row. Then, with a bit of low-tech manipulation, I played it over the oh-so-ambiguous scene in "Chosen" where Buffy is hanging out alone on the porch, Spike is in the basement admiring his pretty amulet, the former goes down to the basement to join the latter, and the screen fades out.
Goodbye, ambiguity!
1. "Children, Children" from "Bat Boy: The Musical."
The earth's asleep; time to wake it
If you have clothing, forsake it
We want you breathless and naked. What? Who doesn't fantasize about incestuous semi-bestial teenage love affairs?
Honestly, I think the fact that I find this song powerfully erotic says loads of disturbing things about me. But then, it does exemplify the traditional Wiccan dream of losing your virginity in a field under the moon with nymphs and satyrs dancing around. Having, with that sentence, singlehandedly demolished my own reputation and that of my religion, I must ask everyone to leave this LJ. Now. Say nothing to anyone as long as you live. ^_^
Wishing she had a prom date,
S.W. Current Mood:  naughty
Current Music: Read the entry. ^_~
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...lives a boy born with fangs in his mouth
Sleeping until the fading light
Flying through bloody dreams
When he awakes, the summer night
Is filled with screams.
-"Bat Boy: The Musical" The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels: Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test I am in the sixth level of hell. I'm a heretic! Well, that's logical enough, though I think "virtuous non-believer" sounds much nicer.
Currently ready to fall asleep on the keyboard...TSRIRP chat last night till two in the morning, with Rubi, Tree, and Spy, and a few minutes of Pokey. This is what I missed so much. (Well, the late-night-chat part. Not so much the hangover stage.)
RacetracksFlare (1:03:04 AM): Or...worse still...what if she did not go to dinner at all? What if she simply sat back and decided to...watch us? And...learn our weaknesses...and plot our description?
ekohjc (1:03:08 AM): *gasp*
RacetracksFlare (1:03:12 AM): *crawls back under piano to horde weapons*
ekohjc (1:03:17 AM): plot our description?
RacetracksFlare (1:03:23 AM): JAHAHA
RacetracksFlare (1:03:27 AM): *destruction
ekohjc (1:03:29 AM): *laughs*
RacetracksFlare (1:03:32 AM): This is what comes of tiredness.
ekohjc (1:03:42 AM): I'm well aware. ^-^
RacetracksFlare (1:04:14 AM): Yes...evil-mastermind Tree...wielding the pen of doom...lowering it toward the paper...PLOTTING OUR DESCRIPTIONS.
<3<3<3
In other news, the writing efforts are crawling along. I didn't do much for Ostara, just a long walk that afforded me the pleasure of seeing melting snow everywhere. It's even meltier today. Spring will prevail. I also re-watched some of the Battlestar pilot last night, which was pretty amazing. I mean, not just the quality of the pilot (I already knew that was amazing), but watching it again now that I already know who everyone is and, to a certain extent, where their plotlines go. The greatest foreshadowy weirdness is a toss-up among seeing Boomer with Chief and with Helo, Adama's infamous speech, and Gaius before he grew a pair. (I fell for him from the beginning, but mostly because he was short, hot, and British. I'd forgotten just how pathetic he used to be; I love him so much more now.)
I have to go to the dentist today. Again. I have a cavity for the first time in my life. Last time I went, my gums were swollen, and the assistant-nurse-type lady injected water into them or something, and it was possibly the most painful process I've ever endured. So, no joy there.
Short entry, but I should be going. Places to go, things to try to write. Spee, you will see that chapter someday if I have to sweat blood. ("Do you think you're likely to? 'Cause I'd like to be elsewhere." -Xander, Buffy 2.21, "Becoming, Part One")
Later,
S.W. Current Mood:  sleepy
Current Music: "Bat Boy: The Musical"
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...let me become part of you
I see no better way to start
Now I can live inside your heart.
-"Bat Boy: The Musical"
Sorry, brand-new recording; I'll probably be stuck on the same musical for at least another week.
First order of business: HAPPY OSTARA! Now, if only there wasn't snow on the ground. But there will certainly be festivities nonetheless; I'll probably fill you in later.
Second: A Clockwork Orange. It's supposed to be a classic. It clarified all of Billie's references for me, and I now see that the Lost scene with Carl, the wires, and the video screens was a blatant rip-off. So the movie served its educational purpose in those respects. But I can't express how much I'm never watching it again...or failing to run screaming at the first sign of Beethoven, "Singing in the Rain", or a guy with mascara on one eye.
Anyway, most of my class is on a plane to Florida at this moment, and here I am, voluntarily left behind, home from school for a week. Working. Just last night, I was struck by this crazy notion that if I want to be a writer, I actually have to write. Substantially. Every day. For hours, if possible. So that's where this week is going: into a novel that's been swimming in my head since I was about eleven. (Did everything start when I was eleven? I started Role Playing then, listening to CDs, being miserable...not that I'm miserable now, but it did become something of a long-term trend.) Actually, right now I'm in a pretty good mood; in addition to the possible Let/D.C. trip over spring break, I'm also making plans to visit RunAway, who's even closer, and slowly but surely getting back into the Random Sisters loop, which is always a Very Good Thing.
To a certain Random Sister: if you read this, baby, I love you so much. And I was feeling everything you wrote, and deeply impressed that you wrote it. I wish I could say more, but I know this isn't helping anyway. So, to echo Rubi: I love you, I do.
What more to say? Battlestar is improving. Like Billie, I wasn't particularly impressed with "Black Market", but I actually found "Scar" pretty damn awesome. Well, of course, it was about Starbuck. The ever-fabulous Starbuck who needs to lay off the booze, the Anders obsession, and the violent, empty almost-sex with Lee (!), but these things just give us deeper insight into the screwed-up complexity that is Kara Thrace. Throughout the whole episode, I was expecting Kat to die. Any other show with an overconfident rookie like Kat trying to usurp a beloved character like Starbuck would have taught her a lesson by killing her off. But Kat's still around, Kara didn't smash the bottle of booze on her head (I really thought it was touch-and-go for a second there), and ultimately, I'm not sorry; she's an interesting character, like most of the pilots we've met. (What is it with these Amazon-warrior pilots, though? I mean, I love them dearly, but I think Boomer was the most laidback of the bunch, and she was a sleeper Cylon.) Speaking of which, I was sorry that Kara left out Boomer in her list of dead pilots at the end. Is that why she paused, and why we got a close-up of Helo? And speaking of him, I love the Starbuck/Helo friendship. It's adorable. The scene with Kara in Sharon's cell was also powerful. When is that baby going to materialize, though? (By the way, Kate, it's not the baby plot that's stupid; it's the fact that its blood cured Laura's cancer. Something had to cure Laura's cancer, but not a miracle baby!)
I have to write. My fiery little heroine and her fantasy world refuse to let me rest. Later, LJ.
-S.W. Current Mood: working
Current Music: "Bat Boy: The Musical"
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...the moon is up and we're all prepared.
-"Bat Boy: The Musical"
Well, here we go again. Never mind that all of my other attempts at LJ and any other form of diary-keeping have vanished into slacker wasteland. Now that I'm older and wiser, I will use my newfound focus and dedication to proactively seek out active fan communities, forge connections, hop back on the fanfiction bandwagon, and even provide occasional updates on my sad little life.
I use that term objectively, having spent all 17 and a half years of it cooling my heels in a town that's less than one square mile, with virtually nothing resembling a social life. (Come to think of it, that may be why diary-keeping has proven so frustrating.) Personally, though, it suits me pretty well.
I have a new laptop, Gaius Baltar, who is gorgeous in every way, and I defy anyone to mock his Dell nature. I'm not a graphic artist, thanks; all I need is speedy Internet access, a DVD drive, and Microsoft Wordpad, and Gaius delivers. Of course, my love for him may also have a bit too much to do with the desktop wallpaper I immediately personalized: Spike and Buffy cuddling in "Chosen."
*Image from www.screencap-paradise.com
Be still my heart.
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday holed up in my room with Gaius, cursing nature for a St. Patrick's Day snowstorm after a glorious week of faux summer, and browsing the good old 'Ship Manifesto. I drooled over the Mulder/Krycek entry (how long have I been in love with that pairing without ever seeing a single episode of The X-Files? That has to change) and laughing hysterically at the Jack/David entry, which is not only hilarious but, dare I say it, sweet and even convincing. I've never been into Newsies slash, but it helped fan the recently re-ignited flame of my Newsies obsession, which has been blowing hot and cold for nearly four years now--my entire high-school career. I'm still planning to leave the NML after the rally this summer. It's lost most of the things (and people) that once made it practically the center of my life. But maybe I could find a new haven in which to stay involved in my first fandom--like, say, here.
Still working my way through the Battlestar Galactica DVDs, along with my dad, of all people. His childhood love of science fiction has, much like my Newsies love, been re-ignited. We're on Season 2, and yesterday, after three spectacular, heart-stopping episodes that kept us glued to the TV for three hours straight, we had a letdown: the miracle-baby plot. I knew it was coming, but somehow I didn't realize it would be so blatantly lame and contrived. Granted, it was only one episode, and I hear there's more greatness to come, but I couldn't help feeling betrayed by a show that's hardly ever failed to deliver brilliance since the pilot.
Also still watching Lost every week, and still enjoying it. Interesting show, that. I stopped watching about halfway through Season 2, bored to tears, but took it up again this year after my sister reported favorably on last year's finale. And, voila--the fun is back. I've never been fully invested in the show, and barely invested at all since the Season 1 finale. It's too convoluted, unplanned and unpolished, with recycled plots and the worst abrupt/random character deaths I've ever seen (Shannon, Ana-Lucia and Libby, Mr. Eko). Killing off your main characters is all well and good (just ask Joss Whedon, a.k.a. God), but you have to do it with class. So Lost isn't like other guilty-pleasure shows, tight and consistently well-written if wildly implausible, like Prison Break and the first two seasons of Alias. I don't know exactly what it is that keeps me coming back. Maybe it's Sawyer, and every moment of Sawyer/Kate interaction; those two just won't stop sizzling. Maybe it's the accents: Sayid's, Desmond's, Charlie's, even Claire's. (Emilie de Ravin's been a girlcrush of mine since Brick, for which I intend to write an essay one of these days about how her character is the real femme fatale.) Or maybe it's just the fact that I never had Lost on a pedestal, so it didn't have far to fall...unlike certain neo-noir shows which shall remain unnamed but which had the nerve to lose every shred of edge and intelligence and reduce one of television's most fascinating, epic romances to teen-soap material. *cough* /end tirade
Last night I watched a DVD I kidnapped from my dad's library: Miyazaki's Howl's Moving Castle. Against all instincts, I went with the English dub, having read so many positive reviews of it that my gut reaction the very word 'dub' was gradually muted. I loved it to bits and have concluded that unbridled, free-spirited fantasy might be the essence of joy. That and, of course, pretty-boy anime wizards voiced by Christian Bale whose blond hair has the unbelievable decency to turn black due to a potion accident, producing not only a side-splitting drama-queen reaction but enhanced beauty. (Nothing against blond guys, but black hair makes my heart flutter.) I adored the moving castle itself, Calcifer the fire demon, Turnip-Head the bouncing scarecrow, and of course, Sophie--young girl or old lady, brown or silver hair. Her kiss with Howl at the end left me smiling all over the place. Maybe today I'll get a chance to watch it in Japanese, though I also have to knock out A Clockwork Orange so I can send it back to Netflix. That came Billie-reccomended, by the way...like Battlestar, Blade Runner, Angel, and half the other masterpieces I've ever seen. Goddess bless that woman and her wonderful reviews.
Speaking of Angel, I've been Facebook-messaging with Marcy; apparently, she stopped watching after the Connor/Cordy debacle. Heh...that was hard to stomach, though I came out with great love for Season 4 in all its insanity. And speaking of Facebook, I sent messages to all the Facebook-having Random Sisters last night--Let, RunAway, Rubix, and Tag. No school for me next week due to the Senior Trip, which I'm not going on, and we might be able to work out a reunion chat--YES! So far I've only heard back from Letty, who actually invited me to come stay in her dorm for a while during my spring break. There are various complications, but it's a definite possibility, which is amazing. I also left Poker an AIM message, though there's no telling if she got it. No contact with Cocky, Tree, or Spy yet, but I'll pursue them ruthlessly like any TSRIRP girl in sister withdrawal. Goddess, I miss the near-daily conversations with Treeling; I want them back, and the late-night chats, the phone calls, the voicemail, even the infamous random Role Plays of old. Everything. I want my girls.
For the record, my one biological sister, Kate, is headed back to college today after her spring break. I'm sad about it, even--or maybe especially--considering that we didn't do much bonding on this particular occasion, no crazy late-night fandom conversations that went on for hours, no watching any of my Angel DVDs or her anime. In fact, we spent much of her week-long vacation in a sort of cold war because of some stupid little fiasco involving one of my father's and my occasional attempts to get her out of the house. Oh, well. I love her the way she is, far less of a slacker but even more of a hermit than I am, and even though I'm surprised that she hasn't turned albino and blind from living 24-7 in her room or dorm with her schoolbooks and laptop, I'm sorry to see her go and looking forward to her summer homecoming.
One other new Facebook message, by the way, and I could hardly believe it. A future Emerson classmate of mine is actually interested in starting an informal coven. Unfortunately, she sent this message about a month ago, and I in my slacker/hermit glory didn't read it until now. I certainly hope she's still interested; I'm beyond sick of being solitary.
Well, that's about it for the moment. This LJ concept doesn't seem too bad so far. We'll just see if I can stick with it and nudge my way into a community or two.
Till Later,
S.W. Current Mood: determined
Current Music: "Bat Boy: The Musical"
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storywitch's journal
