TWW R.I.P.
Nail. Hammer. Head.
The demise of The West Wing has left me reeling in a mixed state of frustration, loss, spite and sadness. To some this is definitely a trivial matter, but to me it’s a loss of one those few bastions that make owning a television justifiable. Aaron Sorkin's beautiful brainchild was the epitome of entertainment for me. All at once intelligent, comic, dramatic, touching and truly inspiring. This show had me so inspired at times I fancied myself getting into politics and serving the public. I mean, I’m no Derreck Sparks, but this show made me feel that I should serve as a politician just so I could bring fidelity and integrity back to public office and instill genuine debate on issues that will define our society in history.
But now, under the guidance of a severely limited producer (yeah, I’m looking at you Wells), this show has become much like the pedestrian tripe that soils our pretty, glowing boxes. It’s beyond sad. Even the superb cast can’t disguise the petty dramatic bile being vomited. John Wells, you sir, can go to hell. I hate what’s happening to this once magnanimous show and I can’t bear to watch it anymore. I refuse to see this show degenerate into some cheap mediocre drama. It’s not worthy of the cast, the show’s creator or the original premise of the show.
But there is solace. My DVDs will be arriving today and I can replay the wonder that was this show till my heart is content and erase the horrible misconception that is on now.
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Wednesday, November 19, 2003
is it that time?
This is the time when the cold winds blowContrary to what the marketing monkeys would like you to think, this isn’t really the time. Thanksgiving hasn’t even had a chance to fatten us up yet. I mean come on, it’s not even freaking December! But actually, I don’t really care. Around this time of year my cynicism gets knocked down a few levels. Why? Because, Christmas is my absolute favorite time of the year and I don't mind if the experience starts a bit early. I don’t know, for me, it’s a time that has always been magical. Yeah, I drank the Kool-Aid®, so what? There are few times more exquisite than when you’re sitting curled-up in front of the fireplace with simmering coals bathing you in warmth while you bask in the soft glow of a lighted Christmas tree. I’m telling you, it is magic. Heaven, when there’s a gentle snow fall.
When the snow falls from Heaven
On the dreamers below
- This is the Time
And besides, it’s this time of year when you don’t just listen to the Trans Siberian Orchestra, you experience it. Yeah… this is the time.
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Monday, November 17, 2003
robbed of the precious balm
Ahem…
“Methought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more! Mitsubishi does murder sleep, the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”William knew what he was talking about. Early this morning I was dreaming away, of what I do not recall. But in the ether there was a buzz, a disturbance, that had altered the course of my unconsciousness. Soon, I was no longer steeped in the essence of dreams, but pricked by a car alarm gone awry. For thirty minutes, in the middle of the a.m., there is a car horn, right outside of my window, just going nuts. Who knows how long it had been going off. Oh, I was not happy. Two full hours before my alarm goes off, I’m up and there was no chance for me to return to my sweet, sweet slumber. Son of b*tch! Well, now that I was up, I had to go make sure that at least it wasn’t my car making the ruckus. I wasn’t the only one. I could hear many a chirps, beeps and honks going off as people were also checking to make sure their alarms haven’t turned mutinous. And some folks actually schlepped out in their jammies to ask ‘what the hell’? One guy even came from the other side of the apartment complex. Someone is going to rue – a lot. Well, the sound wasn’t from my car and the car from which the horn of hell was squealing didn’t have some poor schmuck keeled over on the steering wheel so there was a whole bucket full of nothing I could do about the noise. Not that I would have done much if someone was lying face first on the horn. Probably would have dialed 911 which would have brought more sleep murdering noises, but at least there would have been pretty flashing lights. So, fully awake at half past three in the fricken morning and cursing my neighbors, I mumbled my way back to the domicile and fired up the Gamecube. There was no chance I was getting back to sleep with that horn blaring and I had a full two hours to kill before my alarm went off. Twenty-five minutes later the horn cut off. !#@&*%$#@$!!
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Thursday, November 13, 2003
the Irken armada is coming
Invader Zim is one of those things I watch to indulge my taste for dark humor and subdued disdain for stinky meat puppets; what you’d call people or the masses. My sister got me hooked on the show (she probably watches more Nickelodeon than she should). Once you get past the initially incomprehensible random raging and screeching, this gem is quite a work of art. The hilarity is, at times, almost too much to bear. Taaaaccccoooooooos!!!! Yet, how this show ended up on Nickelodeon is beyond me. This is probably the last thing you’d want young, impressionable minds watching. I mean the rants alone, but with the imagery too, yeah, it certainly isn’t a child-friendly show. Probably why they don’t show it much anymore. Thank goodness for the Internet and geeky insomniacs who have vidcapped any episode that aired. But really, why do people think just because something is animated, it’s automatically for kids? Conversely, why does animation always have to include porn or grotesque violence to be considered adult?
At any rate, no longer do I have to suffer poor video quality and dropped audio to coddle my sinister angst. Zim is coming to DVD next spring! I must not ignore my veins! Jhonen Vasquez you’re a twisted puppy, but I thank thee.
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Wednesday, November 05, 2003
bring us something good
So long Voyager 1, so long.
A remnant of a vision that is sadly waning. A product of an era when we looked to the stars and said what if, why not. Twenty-six years after launching, Voyager 1 begins the true journey into outer space. Seventeen years from now, we may touch the backyard of heaven. Just gives you chills doesn’t it? We are striving past anything we’ve ever known. We’re at the ocean’s edge, dipping our toe into the frothy foam of the shore, not even fully grown, but knowing someday we’re gonna see what’s on the other side. It is a hell of thing if you just stop to think about it. Someday we’ll get past ourselves and we’ll do what’s next.
And damn if astrsophysicists don’t come up with the coolest names. Event Horizon, Termination Shock, Heliopause, yeah, NASA rocks.
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Monday, November 03, 2003
career choices, life choices
It is a difficult task for a young person just starting out in life to choose what they wish to accomplish during their temporary chance at life. For some, the choices have been made since the very first time a relative uttered the question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” For others, that horrible question has been a bane to their very existence. Compounded with additional questions such as “what do you want to do for a living?”, “what will make you happy?” and the always favorite, “what do you want out of life?”, existence can be quite torturous. I am one of the tormented.
Coming up on my quarter-life crisis, these questions continue to assault my self-worth because I have yet to come up with answers to assuage these haunting personal inquisitions. There is a point when saying “I don’t know, I’ll just see how things go” can no longer put off that lingering feeling of helplessness. During high school, I had no answers. During college I still had no answers and wasn’t getting closer to finding any. Nearly three years after graduation, nothing. In the meantime, I busied myself with doing what I thought would be best, which actually stemmed from what wiser parents, relatives and those who’ve been down that road have said. Get good grades, get a good job, start a career and things will work itself out in the end. I’ve done so and I’m still restless. It's like Fight Club, 'cept I'm not feeling homicidal, psychotic urges.
For all the things that I don’t know, there are things I do know. I want a family. A big healthy family and to send my little ones off to the ivy league to do more than their father did. So far those are the things of which I’m sure. Also, to travel. I want to travel to other places, other continents, other cultures and I want to share in those travels with loved ones. Wanderlust is a hard thing to purge from the system. Outside of those core desires, nothing else seems to matter. I have all these romanticized notions of what life should be like, but when it comes to reality, well things aren’t coalescing. Maybe that is really the cause for all this drama.
Ahh, but listen to me. I talk like my life has flashed by, it hasn’t. I’m still young, but I feel like I am letting things pass. Well, not letting them pass. More like not taking charge. You know, of all the things you’re taught when growing up in this world, the point not emphasized enough (at least to me) is how hard it is to just get in the game; to take that first step.
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