Lazy Saturday

I should probably be finishing up my algebra homework right now, but there's only eighteen problems left to do, so I reckon I still have plenty of time to get it done by Monday night. Also got some World Civ to read, but that class ain't til Tuesday night, so I know I have enough time there.

I finished watching Firefly last night, so I'm all set for Serenity. It was quite bittersweet, coming to the end of the show, because it's so absolutely brilliant, and since Fox treated it, and Whedon, like crap, we're left with only the hope that, after Serenity (and Wonder Woman), Joss and company get the band back together for another few films. WW is slated for a 2007 release, which means the earliest we'll get another Firefly flick is probably 2009.

My all-time favorite television show is Homicide: Life on the Street. It had everything a great show needs to have: wonderfully complex characters, and amazing actors to portray them, along with kick-ass writers to guide the lives of Baltimore's finest. In my mind, no cast and crew has come close to what that group accomplished over the course of seven seasons.

And along came Firefly.

I really, really, really enjoyed both Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the final season, not so much) and Angel (the last couple of seasons I saw of it, anyway), but despite my love of Joss Whedon's dialogue and humor, Homicide reigns supreme.

I've been enjoying House and Grey's Anatomy, and The O.C., of course, but more than those imperfectly perfect cops? Not by a long shot.

And then I started watching Firefly on the Sci-Fi Channel, when it began airing the episodes (in order, even), back in July. Though I knew it to be an ill-fated love, I couldn't help myself. I was instantly hooked. (I didn't want to have to wait to watch the show on a weekly basis, and the scheduling left something to be desired, so I downloaded the episodes, all three and a half gig of them.)

Sure, there was Whedon's trademark humor and witty banter, but it was more than that. With Buffy and Angel, there was always the element of the fantastic. I mean, they were about vampires and demons, after all, and that always left me, as a viewer, slightly on the outside looking in. It's difficult to relate to two-hundred year old vampires, y'know?

Of course, one must suspend one's disbelief with shows like those, of which I'm perfectly capable, but that still leaves you with that sense of unreality, disconnectedness. I mean, it's not surprising that my favorite episode of Buffy (and one of the best three overall, in my opinion) was the one in which Buffy comes home to find her mother dead on the couch. Other than the very end of the episode, with the vampire in the morgue, there was nothing fantastic or supernatural. Buffy's mother simply died of a brain hemorrhage (or whatever it was). No zombies. No ghouls. Just life. And death.

Firefly was like that in every, single episode. Yes, it's a sci-fi show, with spaceships and lasers, but the heart, the pulse, the driving force was Mal and his crew. The characters felt more real because the situations in which they found themselves felt more real. No ghosts or werewolves. Just people trying to get by, to make a life for themselves out in the frontier. Y'know, like it used to be way back in the day on Earth-That-Was.

The best stories are like life. They don't always have happy endings and the good guys don't always win, and you can put yourself in the shoes of the characters and you know exactly how they feel. They make you care about them.

Homicide made me care for seven years. It's a damn shame we didn't have even half that time to get to know the crew of Serenity better.

Well, that turned into a bit of a rant, didn't it? Sorry 'bout that.

The Cardinals finally, officially, mathematically, clinched the NL Central division today, beating the Cubs 5-1 behind Mark Mulder's pitching and a bunch of great hits from the lineup. Two weeks to go in the season and the Cards can pretty much take it easy, get everyone nice and rested and healed up for the playoffs. They're definitely in much better shape than they were a year ago, with Carpenter healthy and the addition of the aforementioned Mulder. Plus the best bullpen in baseball doesn't hurt either.

Nebraska is playing Pitt right now, leading by a measly one point, 7-6, with about five and a half minutes to go. It's pathetic, really, this supposed "west coast" offense. It sure is offensive, all right. And I can't even say that the defense is very good. I mean, sure, they're 2-0, but look who they've played so far. Once conference play begins, Nebraska is going to get crushed in the Big 12 unless they can get this offense rolling, which, in all honesty, I don't see happening.

Someone suggested that I write a story for this, a collection of one-hundred word short stories (the proceeds of which will go to the CBLDF, my favorite charity), in which you cannot repeat any of the words.

That's a bit more difficult than it sounds. It's the little ones, like "the" and "it," words like that. I only repeated each a couple of times, so I need to go through and figure out a way to rephrase the sentences. It's an interesting writing exercise, to say the least, and it got me writing creatively again, which can be nothing but a good thing (unless I never actually manage a career in writing, in which case, I've really been wasting a lot of time and energy with all this).

Right now, though, I'm gonna go lie down. I'm exhausted. These idiot dogs keep waking me up at seven or eight in the morning, and I've been finding it difficult to fall back asleep after throwing them outside.

Oh, and before I go, I'd like to quickly wish Jennie, albeit belatedly (it was yesterday), and Daira and Jami (both today), Happy Birthdays. I hope you all had/are having wonderful days. Love ya.

No comments: