And justice for all

Wooooooooooooo! Drew and Cheryl won Dancing with the Stars! Booooooooo, Stacey got third?!??!?! I appreciate the intent behind letting "America vote for their favorite" - but, c'mon people, it oughtn't be a popularity contest - it ought to be a bonafide merit-based competition. Meh meh meh Jerry Rice. Anywho....

*plop* Teched woman's hair this week for Grand Duke. Absoposilutely exhausted. Struck today. Realized at mass this morning that we have a show this Wednesday - Ash Wednesday!?!?!?! - mentally "grrred" at Savoyards. Then thought, "Well, I suppose it's better to go out with ashes on one's brow than to stay in."

Bodies of water, particularly seen through trees, are beautiful. If moonlight or fog are added, it's lagnappe.

Confession. Yes. Good.

Mood: Pure
Music: "I'm Free" a la a few months ago
Thought: Oh, good golly - class tomorrow.

Ah, my church

And ah, my theatre. Thoughts on both:

Oh frabjous day, calloo, callay! (He chortled in his joy) Our archbishop, Sean O'Malley, has just been named a cardinal! (Everybody now! "Happy happy joy joy! Happy happy joy joy!")

And I still hold that the church (building) closings are not necessarily a bad thing. In my area, certainly, I feel that by consolidating the churches there has been - among those who have remained faithful - a greater feeling of solidarity and brotherhood not only in our own (new) parishes, but also across town boundaries. When we were four parishes in our small (technically a) city, there was so much division, so much crankiness, petty rivalries and selfishness. But now the parishes are free to move forward with what really matters to our faith: reintroducing Eucharistic adorations, encouraging confessions, my mother's own Catholic Bible study, our upcoming cross-parish Passion - the list goes on. We still need to better integrate the various Hispanic communities into our own - to overcome that latest division - but it can be done. I don't know that bilingual masses such as those at St. Mike's are the way to go, nor am I convinced that segregating the masses such as at IC is completely beneficial - but at least the Anglo-and-Hispanic communities are now sharing the same space and pastors. (I wonder if the Anglosaxons and the Normans had such liturgical difficulties....)

I am also grateful for the many many masses available on a weekend. This Sunday I've a matinee show of The Grand Duke with the Sudbury Savoyards (for whom I've falln into the duty of Head of Women's Hair [who's the Type A personality?]) and fortunately I can go to an early mass that day. (I feel great pity for those of another denomination who might have to miss a service because there's only one per Sunday.) Actually, God is very good and I'll be able to lector at this Sunday's morning mass. I was assigned to the Sunday evening one for this week, but couldn't make it because of the G&S show. My sister was going to cover for me, but the woman who lectors for the 9:30 called and asked if she and I could switch. (There art thou happy!) So happy, happy day.

The hair for Grand Duke is, overall, looking very well. "Fifty feet in the dark," though, meant that all these lovely braids folks were doing couldn't be seen from the audience. So I went out, bought ribbon and flowers, and had anyone doing a braid weave in two strands of ribbon of a varying color (light for dark haired women, and vice versa), and everyone else getting a spray of flowers thrown in somewhere. Now from the audience we can see the bouffant chignions. Actually, there's a few designs I'm really rather proud of: the lead soubrette's hair which we put over a form, pinned in a curved spray of violets and then pincurled the remainder, and one of the chorus member's hair which I've got up in twists along the sides and then the remainder put up in two twists stuck all around with bows. Very flattering if I do say so myself. There's two that I need to fix yet, but fortunately we're "going dark" (aka, not having) a final dress rehearsal tonight, and so I've a night off before the beginning of the run tomorrow night. This means that I get to go to sleep on time, watch Dancing with the Stars (not in that order), and actually take some of this vacation time for - oh, the shock! - vacation. I'm going to enjoy all 24 hours of it. Ha!

Tomorrow, as well, we do not have rehearsal for Matchmaker. (Everyone join me in a rousing Kermit-like arm-waving "Yaaaaaaaaaay!") We did monologues on Monday - which went very well - and then Acts I-III on each of the following days. We'll be able to do Act IV twice next week. I'm having fun throwing in all sorts of slapstick, farcical elements - and then sliding in some really nice moments for people, too. The proposal scene at the end of Act IV (which we finally, oh thank You, GOD!, did just today) is sooooooooo very very sweet. My main concern with Matchmaker was that, with the way the script is written, the audience can't in good faith root for Horace and Dolly to get together. It's all so mercenary. And Horace is usually played so one-dimensionally miserly that it's a complete bafflement as to why anyone would want to marry him of their own free will - much less our vivacious Dolly. But we have conquored that. Oh, yes we have, precious. We're rooting from the start - and we're seeing glimpses from the start of sweetness and gentility - and of an ease the two characters have with one another. So that when the proposal comes, it's simply - it's a sigh of sweetness.

A brief thought about why some of the slapstick I'm throwing into the Irene/Cornelius line seems to be working. Comedy is, in part, based on two separate truths being juxtaposed in a situation that requires a different set of norms. Example: the Philosopher's Soccer Tournament from Monty Python. First, we have the anachronistic juxtaposition of Greek philosophers being anywhere physically near German ones. But that might just be bad school pagentry. But to put men in togas and men in periwigs on a soccerfield is amusing - because although Socrates might have jumped in a time machine to square off against Hegel in a soccer match, they'd both change into soccer gear if this were real. But for comedic effect, they maintain their own norm of clothing in a place where another norm is held. This would have merely elicited giggles to watch - except that Monty Python takes it one further: the philosophers, having already denied the expected norm of garb, now play soccer by their own norms - which is to think about the essential nature of soccer rather than doing the thing. This is hysterical. But the truly clever bit is that by juxtaposing the two, we see that there is a time to think but this is a time to do, and that there are those philosophers who think the ball doesn't even exist (the Germans) who are then trounced by Euripides (playing for the Greeks) who shouts "Eureka!" and manages to realize that one must do (i.e., kick the ball). So, the actual philosophies that the characters lived by is itself juxtaposed.

Comedy - good comedy, or higher comedy - mixes an intellectual truth and brings clarity through paradox. For the Irene/Cornelius line - although I'd hardly call it quite as clever as the above sketch - what we're doing is showing what everyone actually feels like on a first date, but more or less manages to hide. This juxtaposition, rather than anachronistic, is bringing the interior to the exterior (although perhaps not as crudely as in Annie Hall). So when Irene takes Cornelius' hand and literally starts bouncing up and down, or Cornelius gets on the chair and beasts his breast King Kongishly after successfully carrying out Irene's command to upset the table - what makes it funny is that what we're seeing is what is truly felt and never, ever, ever shown.

Comedy is also very musical. It relies on a sort of poetry - not so much rhyming, as alliterative or repetitious. It really does require timing and proper intonation. I've a secret theory that the best comedians are probably very musically talented as well. (Which is perhaps why so many of them were in vaudeville and included a variety of acts such as singing and dancing and juggling.) And in comedy, the audience waits through the set-up ("For Dame Pince and her daughter - her dowry. And a beau to go with it." [Cue five men kissing the daughter's arm. Slight appreciative titter from audience.]) for the pay-off tagline ("And for Dame Plotz and her daughters? [beat] Nothing." [Cue weeping daughters. Louder laughter from audience.]). Comedy well-played is like jazz - we can follow the musical line, the basic chord progression, but the joy is in the improvisational element over the top of the expected. But, like any good music, it must also return to the tonic. We can't leave it on the seventh or stranded somewhere in a minor diminished fourth. We need the "ching" for the previous "ba-doom-dooms." The tonic, but inverted.

I don't know that I've more to write. I thought I had. Bits and pieces then:

We're doing a low-lift with Irene and Cornelius! It's so cool! He holds her wrist and ankle and swings her about! Happy happy happy day!

There are few greater love letters from God than driving to the theatre, drinking a Diet Coke just as one passes by the expanse of curving farmland in Hudson, tinted sunset-rosey through one's sunset-rosey sunglasses, just as "Pachabel's Canon" by the Boston Pops conducted by John Williams comes on the radio in the nicest car we own as lent by the gracious parents to get from here to there. There, art thou happy.

Theatre junkie, theatre junkie, theatre junkie....

(And because there's always one need for a "I trust I make myself obscure" item....) Yeah, so I'm reminded why I'm grateful I've collected so few of what others collect obsessively because one has turned up in the least likely place and, though I have already exonerated myself from any residual guilt I may once have felt (being of a trusting nature and quick to committment), any continuing guilt over my exoneration is completely dissipated upon this latest, undesired perusal. One is inclined to shout what Clemintine shouted to Elijah Wood's character in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. My sister will understand me. One does, but only to confidants. One had thought this place safe. One must be excused to strangle the one who brought the one to one's safe place. One must be excused to kiss the one who keeps the one from one's own corner of the haven. Bah humbug.

I was putting in my contacts this morning (my glasses needing to be replaced because they're finally scratch-eded) and I dropped one contact. I had to stick on my glasses, run out the door to rehearsal, and when I returned just now I sent up another prayer to St. Anthony, and lo and behold this time I found it. It is dry. It it curled up. It is soaking in solution and one hopes the solution will solve indeed.

Muppets Season One is great. I can't believe so many classic sketches are from that first year alone! "You and I and George" "Mna-mna" "The Comedian's a Bear" - the list goes on. No "Pigs in Space," though. Sadness.

O is actually a pretty good version of Othello. Too much swearing and drugs and sex for me - but very accurate and in some ways far more understandable (insofaras motives are concerned) than the original. It's only a shame - a big shame - that they were bound to remove the bonds of matrimony from the piece due to the reimaginging of Othello in a high school. Of course, one could argue, then, that O *doesn't* work because it removes those very bonds. Regardless, it was very, very interesting. Well worth watching for any Shakespeare fiend. (I've no idea if She's the Man - the latest take on Twelfth Night will be at all good. I'll most likely see it, regardless, though.)

Life is good. God is good. All is good. Amen.

Mood: Bon bon bon bon bon, merci
Music: None at present. How odd is that?
Feast: Saint Polycarp, pray for us!

Just (Mom's) Thought

As written by me muther.

I was thinking on the way to the grocery store...
New thoughts about the second joyful mystery:

The angel appeared to Zachariah a half year before he appeared to Mary. So there's ol' Zeke maybe writing his experience to Elizabeth, if not that, then maybe hand-motioning it to her. They are living with the new pregnancy. Amazed at that alone. Then appears this long-lost teenage cousin who has had the EXact same experience as Zeke's.

And Mary has the words to express (probably in song) the awesomeness of it all. She probably sang that Magnificat LOTS... after all it's a song/canticle...so they were all probably humming it for the next 3 months. At least the ladies were!

So, my new thought or idea that I was meditating on as I was in agony with this dang sciatica and driving to the store (I guess the Lord is present in our pain, eh?)... so the image I had in my mind's eye was that of Zachariah and his knowing nods to Mary. As she would be sharing ALL about the angel, he'd be there motioning with his arms about his own experience too, pointing to his chest (me too, me too), pointing to the sky (an angel, an angel).

But it's Zachariah's smile that I see. His big goofy grin. At last he was vindicated. He was confirmed. "This really DID happen to me," he might have thought, "I'm not dreaming it up."

And then when John's born, there is Zachariah bursting forth with HIS canticle (which we recite every morning in our "Magnificat" magazine, as we do Mary's every evening). His is so much like Mary's. Maybe they even had the same tune. That would be neat.

Just my thought.

Happiness.

Mood: Regarde en haute.
Music: None at present; soon to be the sound of photocopying
Obligations: Ah, the scheduling of retreats beckons....

We swears it precious

I didn't cheat. But boo-yeah! I'm Mal! :)

You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)

Malcolm Reynolds (Captain) 80% Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic) 75% Derrial Book (Shepherd) 75% Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic) 70% Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command) 65% River (Stowaway) 50% Inara Serra (Companion) 35% Wash (Ship Pilot) 25% Jayne Cobb (Mercenary) 25% Alliance 20% A Reaver (Cannibal) 10%

Honest and a defender of the innocent. You sometimes make mistakes in judgment but you are generally good and would protect your crew from harm.

Click here to take the Serenity Personality Quiz


Mood: Bon, merci
Music: Hwell, not ness. music per se - I'm watching the original (very VERY bizarre) pilot for the first ever Muppet Show having just given up on the Olympics for the night.
Thought: Really must dry my hair.

Slacker

Oui. Je sais. C'est moi. D'accord, maintenaint j'ecrire:

Happy St. Valentine's Day! No, I am not among the denizens of gothic black-wearers or bitterly resigned red-wearers or flighty pink-wearers nor even sanctimonius "Cyril & Methodius forever!" white-wearers. I'm wearing yellow. And a daisy in my hair. And, as I was trotting across the street for some well-deserved lunch, and I saw one far-too-old boyfriend walking in with a dozen long-stemmed roses for his entirely-too-young girlfriend (and inwardly I groaned and rolled my eyes), I realized that regardless of the Hallmark abuses strewn around this holiday, on general principles I'm really rather glad of a holiday that celebrates love.

Now I'm sure that naysayers will point out that Valentine's is just a leftover pagan holiday meant to shack up and ergo we ought to spurn it for good old C&M (who, please don't believe I'm denigrating). But that's hardly Christian, either. The whole point of the New Covenant is that it purifies us. That we are freed to celebrate the virtues grounded in truth and not just in desire. If anything, as Christians, we ought to reclaim Valentine's day and wave about our red anatomically-incorrect hearts and dance a polka on a table-top crying out, "Thank God, thank God for sanctified eros! Three cheers for marriage! Huzzah for family! Happy day that I had parents! Happier day when I became a parent! Happiest day when I meet my true Father in Heaven!"

To spurn Valentine's (as it ought to be, and not as Victoria Secret wills it) is to spurn an excellent opportunity for the restoration of the family and holy matrimony. So I'm wearing a daisy and a bright lemon shirt for hope and joy, I think. And yup, I've got a box of chocolates from me muther in me lunch.

So I finished Veronica Mars (nearly wrote Marx - huh, how interesting would that have been?) and am of several minds about it. In no particular order:

1) I've been dreaming in Marsian for the past week since finishing it. This is totally unfair. I've been watching the far superior Lost and the far funner Dancing with the Stars for far *longer* than one season of VM on DVD. But I'm dreaming about 09ers. Go figure.

2) However, perhaps part of the reason I've been so dreaming is because Lisa Rinna from Dancing with the Stars plays a small but crucial part in VM along with her real-life husband as the parents of Logan, who, I will admit, I'm rooting for. Even despite...

3) The post-modern anti-Valentine's gahishness of: "Our two leads we have brought to a place where they kissed in the heat of a moment, and even better in the heat of a moment when Was-Jerk-Now-Questioning-Purpose-of-Life-Logan comes to save our girl wonder. What next? Hmmmm. A season full of Austenesque romance? Continued Hitchcockian a la North by Northwest or Charade drama? Much awkwardness and romance and suspense and betrayals and assumptions and revelations to keep this show going forever??!?!?!? Nah. Too much work. Let's stick them in bed. Or near to it. That'll be our big mystery! Yeah! When will Veronica and Logan shack up?"

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Hmmm, not emphatic enough. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Let me remind you of rule #1 re: planning out a drama/blocking/plot/etc. The story is over as soon as the main characters come together. That's it. The scene is over as soon as the characters come together, either emotionally or physically. There's nothing more to watch. We've seen the conclusion. We know the end of the equation. Good. Done. Next! It's not only bad morality (which is obvious to most but not, apparently, to producers), it's also bad plot (which should appeal to the producers, even if they're heartless). Meh. Blaugh. And I was liking VM 'til they skipped several seasons and jumped right to making out on a bed. Oh, silly, silly writers and producers. You're smarter than that! *sigh*

4) At least, I think they're smarter. As an overarching mystery, VM didn't quite live up to the rules of mysteries. The rule is that a good mystery has all the answers right there in the course of the plot. Right out in the open. Only, no one connects them until the end. At which point there is much wailing and slapping of brows. A great mystery, has the solution right out in the open in the first scenes - and manages to hide it in plain sight. VM didn't manage to give us the crucial piece of mystery as to the Lilly Kane murder until the last episode. Bad plotting.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

The bad plotting could have been easily fixed anywhere in the season. But most particularly as soon as we introduce Logan's dad (whodunnit). Where was Logan's dad saying anything about Lilly with just that half-smile that makes us THINK he's merely a lecherous lout and not realize that he's already past the lecherous lout stage. Where is the clever dialogue - perhaps Biblical in nature - Logan: "Lilly Kane, dad. Don't you know her?" Dad: (caught off guard) "Oh..." (with a nasty private grin) "Yes." OK not the greatest dialogue ever but...you understand. Or we should have seen in the episode when we learn about the Dad's infidelities the guest house and the video bank. And then in a flashback Lilly should have mentioned something about the sheets on the guesthouse bed - and then maybe Logan or Veronica would have said something about how they've been keeping pure lately so how would Lilly know.... All sorts of hints. Or something Dharma Initiative on a Shark-like, where Dad has a pendant of Lilly's or vice versa - class ring, I don't know. If this were olden days, a monographed handkerchief that we all think is Logan's but is his Dad's.... The list goes on. Instead in the last episode we get the crucial info we need. And we learn that all the other info we've had have ALL been red herrings.

And as a side note, I certainly hope that in season 2 they deal with Logan's aftermath. A mom who committed suicide and a dad who killed one's girlfriend AFTER having an affair with her? Gotta leave a scar. On another side note, an "overturned bus" overarching plotline seems a kind of downer after such a Roman Imperial saga as season 1. Yet another reason why, even if you're concerned that your show's not going to get picked up for a full season, one should have the plot line for a mystery already completely done up. Oi!

OK. No more spoilers.

In various and sundry news, I've actually figured out how to burn working DVD's from my computer without any ill-effect. Finally, the software is working the computer's not crashing and everything is hunky-dory. Now, if only my sideways reading skills were better and I hadn't mistyped "chapter" as "chaper" for the first fifteen covers.... Ah ca.

I have the Merry CD on. Oh, symphonic bliss. Currently, the Love Theme from Star Wars. "Happiness...with five fingers...." (What was that play called?)

The Riverdancing Nutcracker in the middle of the chase scene for Matchmaker makes my day. Yay for zaniness.

Visiting the Savoyards last night was a treat. So many friendly faces. I'm very much looking forward to teching the show. Even if it's wardrobe or whatnot.

Due to the way my windows are positions directly opposite the screen, I can always see who's walking by my classroom while I'm at the keyboard. How very sneaky of me.

Mah Jong is ridiculously addictive. Particularly because it's ridiculously difficult to consistently win. The inner game-board card-shark competitive streak of my Father's DNA rises to the surface.

I like dancing. Although singing while doing a high energy dance, not so much. Nor doing pair dancing solo. One looks a little foolish doing swing moves with an invisible male. But still, 'tis muchly fun.

On that note, I sincerely hope Happy Feet is as good as its trailer makes it out to be.

BestBuy helps slacking subscribers re-up their weekly dose of Entertainment Weekly. Just another reason why BestBuy rocks my socks.

St. Theresa of Avila wrote Interior Castle but perhaps I ought to write Interior Classroom. What does it say about small town living (even if one technically lives in a city; Marlborough has no skyscrapers, I don't believe its urban claim) that half my students do know where I live? And I know where they live? And I send them on errands to my house to pick up my video camera to begin the behind-the-scenes footage for Matchmaker. And I can't go to OfficeMax, BestBuy or the supermarket without seeing a student past or present? It's a good thing I got over my fear of seeing students outside of the classroom my first year of teaching. They're everywhere. (Which, however, means that speeding and going to see questionable movies become non-issues because one has to watch what one's doing At All Times.)

And now, I must go. Virtue presentations time.

Mood: Pas mal.
Music: The Funeral Dance music off the Merry CD.
Thought: I love my kids, but they are loud.

The candle burns at both ends

It will not last the night
But oh, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mes cheres et mesdemoiselles, hugs and thanks! And laughter. It's quite flattering that there is the thought that my current romance is the traditional sort - but it's simply the result of a workaholic who is also a romantic, no romances with other workaholics! I fear I've made myself more obscure. Regardless, the well-wishes are VERY much appreciated. And as for the romance with various works, please do keep that in prayer. I can't be more specific here, alas. Kristen, you will probably understand the concept of moving from one pantheon to another in the sphere we work in. The very thought is so full of excitement, possibility - and utter terror, and a feeling of betrayal. But it's out of my hands now - the libation has been poured and I wait to discover whether it has been deemed acceptable by TPTB. Anywho.... On to far less obscure randominity.

I'm reading my first Connie Willis book (author of To Say Nothing of the Dog that Annie so highly recommends) called Passages. I'm only a little bit over a third through, but I find my brain working oddly whilst reading it. The plot is that this one secular doctor joins another secular doctor to simulate Near Death Experiences to find out what actually is being experienced (and of course to debunk any super- or paranormal explanation). So far it looks like it has something to do with space/time-travelling to other ships. Erm.... I'm going to finish it out because I'm desperate for a new book, regardless of two rather significant difficulties:

1) It's not as well-written as I would like. Obviously it's not as atrocious as, say, The Da Vinci Code, but it reminds me of why I don't generally enjoy "realistic" fiction - or rather, fiction that takes place in the modern world. The worldbuilding is so clunky! Everything must be explained several times over, as though the audience didn't know the world we ourselves lived in! Then again, random phrases aren't explained at all. And marketing is thrown in everywhere. Gaaaaaaaaaaaah! And then the characters tend to be repetitive in what they say - say a thing, think a thing, say the thing again. Baaaaaaaaaaaah! Bad bad naughty writing technique! It explains why Goodkind and Brown are considered acceptable literature if this is the modern technique - which is to say no technique at all; no grace, no subtlety, no deeper insight through omniscient passages, no looking outward, no looking inward, only looking at candy wrappers. Mmmmmmmmmnghfphthptppppt! Bah bah bah.

2) The worldview. C'mon - the set up is that two secular doctors try so very hard to show that there's nothing supernatural about "NDE's" and then the potential romantic boy and girl appear to be split up and then we end up going from ship to ship? What the...?! Look, if you're going to do some sort of paranormal thingy, fine - just at least let it be about the guy and girl experiencing it together and going beyond themselves and getting past their own workaholicness or whateverness - preconceptions - and meeting each other as human beings on The Other Side of Death. That would be interesting. But with where it's going - it just looks all sorts of deconstructiony, and I can't agree with that worldview. Pardon the eternal romantic, but I'm afraid that my hope, faith and love trump your randominity.

But as I said, I need the eggs. Or at least something to read, rather than to merely watch. Or edit. Or grade. Or direct. Which brings me to....

Veronica Mars. Again, not sure if I want to continue the series (darn you overarching plots!) except, again, the hook remains that I want to know who killed Lilly Kane and what Mrs. Mars has been up to. But...high school like that? OK, OK, I work in a very, very small Catholic school in the middle of suburbia. And yes, OK, I know some stupid ye olde merrie typical stuff my kids or other kids have been up to. And I remember back to my own high school days and hearing about the stupid stuff some kids got into. But...no there is too much. Let me sum up.

Right, this is my issue: what is right and what is normal? The writers on VM keep pushing that if only Veronica could solve the mystery, clear her dad's name, and - apparently - find and keep a boyfriend, she could return to the popular kids (who in this set-up are very popular due to OC'ness) and therefore have a "normal teenagerhood." Well, wait a minute. Since when is being a "popular kid" in High School the least bit normal? Those kids tend to be, perhaps, ten percent of the student body - so statistically, they're not the norm. They also tend to screw themselves up the most - so morally, they're not the norm. And, as much as one might want to be popular - or at least well liked in High School - at least for myself I always knew it was all a sham that wouldn't (and didn't) last past High School. Now, since the chances that the writers of VM were much more like me, and since it's a safe bet that they're none of them in High School now - how the hell are they stupid enough to perpetuate a myth they know to be completely bogus? Now, granted, I'm only on the sixth episode, so perhaps there's an arc where VM learns (in a very special way) that, indeed, normal isn't the mythological popular ideal.

Regarding morality: we're supposed to be concerned with Lilly Kane's murder. I am, only insofaras I want justice served and one of my fav. actor's TV reputation cleared. As for Lilly, though, as a "person" - hwell, she seemed kind of a skank, ditz, etc. I mean, I don't see what was so great about her that her death is a tragedy of all that's good. I'm waiting to see why her death is equivalent to Hamlet mourning his father, here. She was definitely no saint. And that's another problem: neither is Veronica, although she's made out to be the Nancy Drew spunky savior (complete with a Sydney Bristow rip-off in one episode!) - but her own morals are somewhat...dubious. See, that's the thing about mysteries: justice and goodness are served - not dubiosity. So, in the latest episode, Veronica gallantly doesn't vote for her "outcast" friend (who also mysteriously fell from grace) because her friend is a narc. Sorry? This is a problem? In the previous episode, she helps a guy who lost this package of drugs get off the hook, and then apparently doesn't turn in her ex-boyfriend who tried to steal the drugs. Now, granted, she doesn't let anyone GET the drugs, and she arrests the guy who originally commissioned the pick-up but...! Or what about the transsexual episode? What the...?!??!?!

Times like these, I can be fooled into thinking Massachusetts isn't the lowest circle of Hell. Anywho - I know it's all a TV show, but art attempts to be a reflection of reality - or ought to - and all I'm wondering is how accurate is VM? One more gripe: the dialogue is nowhere near as good as Buffy. (Alright, laugh away all those who think I'm about to extol and exonerate Buffy from all its own moral and normal shortcomings - it was still a better show overall than VM [at least thus far].) Let me just explain why Buffy is better written: it made the dialogue sparkling and effortless and smart. In VM, the seams all show. And no thesaurus or Brittanica is needed, only a TV Guide. It tries to be hip and timely but ends up being stilted. The best dialogue is when they drop the pseudo-Buffy-chic and instead just write realistic dialogue. Is realistic as cool as Wheadonspeak? No. Nothing currently is ever as clever as Wheadonspeak - but art isn't made by imitation but by finding one's own voice. VM needs to (and I hope has) done so between the episode from last year I'm on and whatever second season episode they're currently on.

Oh, last gripe overall about modern TV series: would the gaffers please turn on the lights? Aaaaaaaaaaaaarugh! Lost is perhaps the only TV series that I've watched lately that's well-lit. Everything else is in moody half-flourescent lights that barely let us make out the important non-explicated (which should be explicated!) information that's flashing on the screen! Bah bah bah!

But anywho, none of that is neither here nor there. Mass tonight, alleluia! Superbowl, meh. Perhaps writing this year's Passion later, alleluia! Times with the house to self time being unwantedly invated, grrrrr. Family, alleluia! Decisions, meh. Did I mention family, alleluia? Family. Alleluia.

Mood: Curioser and curioser
Music: Buffy soundtrack. But I think I might stick on Mary Poppins or something equally chipper instead.
Thought: I'm going to begin the official anti-angst league. Bwahahahhahahahh!

Pilgrim's Progress

Monday: Opening monologue - no soliloquist

Tuesday: Hatshop - no millineress

Wednesday: Courtship - no beaus, assistants or matchmakers

Thursday: Heaven only knows what.

Fortunately, mint hot chocolate and singing "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile" in front of A.C. Moore (where one goes, apparently, for Mars-something-or-other Black acrylics) and purchasing Cadbury Eggs and the Complete Father Brown stories go a long way to making things right. As do stones engraved with "Peace" gripped firmly in the hand in the middle of the gardening section, missed calls on the oddly-ringing cell phone, and leisurely showers. I need to write fantasy.

Mood: Animal huffing whilst triangle playing
Music: Secret Garden "best-of" CD - IamcalmIamcalmIamcalm....
Curiosity is: I am now the owner of a garish orange T-shirt, bandana and scarf. Huh.
Just parce que: Huh - I was sure I'd be a Red...howsomever, blue is my favorite color! Now, if only the remembering birthdays bit wasn't in it, it probably fits me to a T...!


BLUES are motivated by INTIMACY, seek opportunities

to genuinely connect with others, and need to

be appreciated. They do everything with

quality and are devoted and loyal friends and

employers/employees. Whatever or whomever

they commit to are their sole (and soul)

focus. They love to serve and will give

freely of themselves in order to nurture

others lives.

BLUES, however, do need to be understood. They have

distinct preferences and occasionally the

somewhat controlling (but always fair)

personality of a confident leader. Their code

of ethics is remarkably strong and they

expect others to live honest, committed lives

as well. They enjoy sharing meaningful

moments in conversation as well as

remembering special life events (i.e.,

birthdays and anniversaries). BLUES are

dependable, thoughtful, nurturing, and can

also be self-righteous, a bit worry-prone,

and emotionally intense. They are like

sainted pit-bulls who never let go of

something once they are committed. When you

deal with a BLUE, be sincere, make an effort

to truly understand them, and truly

appreciate them.


What Color Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla