I’m writing this with my egg timer going. I’m living in paranoid fear that at any second Andy Rooney is going to come down from heaven and complain at me about the harps. Because death = stringed instruments. Makes you wonder what instrument they give you in hell.
Guitars. Of course. Anybody else picture heaven and hell as basically exactly like South Park?
I get to sleep in this week. These are the most glorious of weeks, weeks that see me able to spend the first half of my day in something other than a zombie fog, wandering around my house, eating the brains of small animals. When I get to sleep in, I eat those brains with purpose.
It’s giving me the opportunity to refocus, which is both necessary and disappointing that I need it so soon after such a promising start to the new year.
I fell again a couple weeks ago. I was riding high, doing so well, then tripped over nothing specific and tumbled, hard. A large part of this past year has been about how I have to remap my thinking. My brain doesn’t work quite right (it’s apparently all about BRAINS today), and I have to make a conscious effort to build up good voices (Turtles) and ignore bad voices (Doombots). (don’t ask.) That’s tricky enough when I’m feeling okay, and near impossible when I don’t. But I tried, and kept trying, and kept slipping further, which just fueled the Doombots on to the eternal glory of Doom.
It was incredibly rough, the trying to not listen to bad stuff, the trying to power up the Turtle, the unending stream of failure at both of these. Some days I was exhausted just from trying to think at myself. But here’s the thing: I didn’t stop trying. And I won.
So fucking take that, Doombots.
You’ll be back. But today, I won.
The above brings up an interesting point I’ve been batting about with myself: moving some of the deeper thoughty stuff to a separate blog. I can be a bit of a stickler for compartmentalization, and I admit that I have a spot of trouble sometimes in reconciling talking about Rock Band and comic books and TV shows with WAH I AM DEPRESSED TODAY. The muscling through and still posting regardless of when I’m in a dip (especially when I’m in a dip) is part of what I need to do, but I’m not sure I want to saturate what should(?) otherwise be a place of Many Serious Thoughts About Fluffy Things with surprise bleaksex. I kinda think people should opt-in to that shit or something. I’m undecided, and welcome opinions.
I’ve only heard “Moves Like Jagger” one complete time. Can someone then explain to me how it’s been stuck in my head for days? More importantly, can you explain why I am being punished? Forget waterboarding, let’s just play catchy pop songs at suspected terrorists.
“WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?!”
“I’ve got the mo-oo-ooo-OOO-oo-oo-oo-oo-oooooves…”
*beep* *beep* *beep*
Things we’ve been watching lately include the blu-ray extended edition of Lord of the Rings that I got Mike for Christmas. We’re up to Return of the King, which I’ve actually not seen since its first release in the theater. It’s a pretty fun experience, since I have the barest memory of it, thus no idea when it’s a new scene. The main impetus for my guesses then are if a scene is way expositiony and completely boring. I’m not often wrong.
They look gorgeous as hell though, for reals.
We also started watching Sherlock, which I’m enjoying a lot more than I thought I might. Mike is a huge Sherlock Holmes fan and I was expecting him to hate it, but it’s quite the opposite. While he’s still not entirely sold on Holmes’ look, the performances are so fantastic it’s a very minor thing. The modernization of the premise and use of current technology feels organic, which was a big concern for me. I have to think that this will be a new benchmark for how to do an update on a franchise – and when you should do it.
“Wild Wild West” by Escape Club just queued up on my iPod, and I am immediately transported to 1988. Forget complicated inventions, music is all the time machine we really need.
I will be rewatching Buffy and talking about each episode a whole lot right here. Stay tuned.