Season seven of Buffy vs. season seven of Gilmore Girls

I am currently writing my PhD thesis outline. Naturally, this means it’s time to crack open the figurative book that is this blog. It’s like doing a warmup before a big sports game. At least, that’s what I assume one does before playing sports. It’s been so long since I put on a jersey (or team-themed t-shirt), maybe the protocol has changed. In any case, this is not procrastination. Nope, nope, nope. Warming up my fingers.

In the vein of not-procrastination, I definitely did not recently re-watch ALL of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I wrote fiction and researched stuff and other productive, smart sounding things. C’mon – I had just turned in my MPhil thesis and had lots of stress to relieve! And if you’re going to delve into the land of vampires, Buffy  is totes the way to go. Joss Whedon is my hero – PLUS, it’s got some rocking feminist characters, which is a huge part of my PhD. So it was sort of research. Yay!

Now, I love Buffy. Even season six, which many people will say is only worth it for the musical episode. (Which, if you somehow haven’t seen, go watch now.) I can get past the depressing fast-food job, largely because of the Spike-boinking. But oh man. Season seven. I can’t even. Before I re-watched it, all I could really remember was Nathan Fillion as creepy preacher guy. Because I clearly blocked the rest of it out, since it. Is. So. So. Bad. It’s all speechifying by Buffy, with “some of us aren’t going to survive” and “doom doom gloom” and “don’t kill Spike” and “why don’t any of you like me?” and “did I mention the impending death that will inevitably happen to some, if not most of us?” Joss Whedon was clearly off doing other things, because there is NO WAY he would have let the writing get so terrible unless he had stopped watching the show altogether.

When I finally slogged to the end of season seven (I won’t even get into how pointless and terribly done Anya’s death was), I needed something to fill the void. I mean, besides all the PhD-ing I was planning. (Give me a break – term only just started.) Magically, all of Gilmore Girls came to Netflix!

Like with Buffy, I couldn’t really remember the seventh season. Something about Rory living in a terrible apartment and Lorelei and Luke not being together…but that was it. So, for some reason, I started GG at the end. Maybe some masochistic part of me wanted to get the worst out of the way in the beginning, so I wouldn’t have a bitter, dreams-dashed, burnt-coffee aftertaste at the end. But then something amazing happened.

Season seven of Gilmore Girls isn’t that bad!

Again, this could just be because I haven’t seen all of the good episodes first, but I remember thinking that the writing this season was horrendous. But compared to Buffy? It’s like watching Shakespeare! Well, it’s like watching a modern retelling of Shakespeare that I really enjoy, like 10 Things I Hate About You or She’s the Man (when you’re a camp counsellor to a bunch of 8 year-old girls, She’s the Man becomes one of the better cinematic offerings, believe me). Yes, some of the stuff that happens is kind of dumb (who marries someone two months after breaking off a previous engagement?) and some of the writing is kind of cliche (I keep waiting for Paris to say something that isn’t a rant about having been ousted as Yale’s newspaper editor, or about how she’s clawing her way up the corporate/journalistic ladder), but at least each episode is different. The plot changes, the characters have different goals, and the minor characters have big, life-changing stuff happen to them! It’s not a constant influx of new characters stepping all over the old and beloved characters’ screen time(blergh, I hated the potentials), AND it’s not the same “I hope we don’t die, so let’s take all of the humour out of this show, which is part of what made it awesome to begin with.” GG has the funny and the drama. It has led me to conclude that…

…season seven of Gilmore Girls kicks the ass of season seven of Buffy. 

While you ruminate on that, I return to the glamorous world of thesis outlining. I feel very warmed up.

Advertisements

Coffee Coffee Coffee

You might wonder why I’ve repeated the word coffee three times in my title. Oddly enough, it’s not because I’m on a coffee-induced caffeine high….but I should be….so I’m going to grab a cup and be right back…

EXCEPT THERE IS NO COFFEE IN THE KITCHEN. This is a travesty, and something I think which stems from the fact that I’m the only American in the office. Some British stereotypes are true–they drink way more tea than they do coffee. My office is right by the kitchen, so I always hear the kettle boiling. And yet smell no deliciousness that is a heated coffee bean. Woe betides us all.

See? That’s how I start talking when I have no coffee.

Other bad things can apparently happen if you don’t drink coffee. HuffPo recently published an article listing 5 good reasons why you should drink coffee. But my favorite on is that IT PROTECTS YOUR BRAIN! Drinking coffee has been proven to help your brain fight degenerative diseases, such as Alzheimer’s. I’m picturing my brain with a helmet on it. A helmet made of coffee!

Okay, so the following picture is not of a coffee-made helmet on top of a brain. But it is a helmet made to look like a brain, which I still think is pretty cool.

brain helmet

Cool AND creepy. What else could you want from a brain helmet? Oh, right, COFFEE.

And if the HuffPo article can’t convince you that people should drink coffee, I think this post is proof enough. This is my brain sans coffee, and it makes even less sense than usual.

This post was brought to you by the letter C. C for coffee and c for crazy.

Distraction of the Day: Massive Squishable Narwhal

Okay okay–my love of narwhals is not big news. But what I’m about to share is BIG. And I really REALLY had to share this. Because it’s amazing. And whoever wants to chip in and get it for me as a joint Christmas/birthday/any-reason present, I will forever love you and sing your praises on high to the great god of Narhwalia. You shall go down in history as the Bringer of Fortune, the Master of Maritime Geekdom, and Bestest of Friends for Longer than Life. Seriously though.

IT’S A BEANBAG SQUISHY NARWHAL! 

I would love this narwhal for years and years, squishing it much like this sleepy but happy woman.

I COULD STARE AT IT FOR HOURS AND HOURS. I know I’ve extolled the virtues of other narwhalia (here and here) BUT THIS IS THE KING OF ALL NARWHAL PLUSH CREATURES! Look at the squishy! He shall be mine and he shall be my squishy. Seriously, I don’t care where I move in the next few years–I’ll bring this guy with me. I will be THAT girl who carries a giant stuffed narwhal on the airplane. It will go in the overhead compartment. Don’t believe me? Buy me the narwhal and I’ll prove it to you! Because while it is amazing, it’s also amazingly expensive…$142. I know. So if you ever feel like expressing your love in dollars, this is how you can do it.

I think I might be becoming the crazy cat lady of narwhals.

I think I’m okay with that.

 

A Little Late Night Doctor Who

I wish the subtitle for this post could be “Because I can.” Which I guess I’ve successfully just done by putting it there. Good job me.

This post is brought to you a little bit by insomnia, a little bit because I haven’t seen Gavin in three months and he gets back tomorrow, and a little bit because I can’t stop thinking about tonight’s Doctor Who episode. And by the letter D.

D for Doctor, D for Day (that’s me), and D for DINOSAURS. Because that’s what tonight’s episode was. Dinosaurs on a Spaceship. Catchy title, yes, and very believable looking dinosaurs (yay for expanded DW special features budget!), but it seems like a gimmicky title. In fact, the whole episode felt a little gimmicky. Now, it takes a lot for me to criticize this show, but Queen Nefertiti was brought along on the adventure. For funsies. No, really, the Doctor picked her up in ancient Egypt and brought her with him on the TARDIS because he couldn’t say no. And don’t get me wrong–I love ancient Egypt. I wish we could have a whole episode about ancient Egypt. But really what was the point of bringing her along? I get why the episode needed it, but this was something completely uncharacteristic of the show, at least in its modern incarnation. And I guess that’s what I’ve been thinking about. How the most recent Doctor Who episodes (as in, last season) had a slightly darker focus, and while I don’t think we need that each and every time, this episode felt a bit…cheap. I really enjoyed it, but evil space pirate + dinosaurs + spaceship + ancient Egyptian queen who’s always wearing the blue crown = too much. Too too much. I never thought I’d say this, but…..

Could we kill Rory again? Not the forever kind of dying, because apparently Rory doesn’t do that, but y’know…

Of course I don’t meant that. It took me a LONG time to come round on Rory, and I don’t really want him to die. But Steven Moffat spent so much time scaring us and making us cry and these first two episodes have been, well, gimmicky. Daleks and dinosaurs! (Now THAT would’ve been a great title.) Also, D for daleks!

Well. I think that sums up my geeky rant for the night. I think I shall now be able to sleep better, since I’m sure Steven Moffat will see this post, take my advice to heart and completely change this season’s storyline. I’m just that powerful.

Okay, ONE more geeky thing. Because if there’s one thing I love, it’s crossover. Or at least comparison.

Is it weird that I always wanted to see what the inside of Oscar’s trash can looked like?

Dawson’s Creek: My Ten Years Too Late Obsession

So I grew up in the nineties. Sort of. Kind of half in the nineties and half in the…zeroes. I watched All That when it was still funny, know Melissa Joan Hart as both Clarissa and Sabrina, and one time my Skip-It got stuck in a tree. But something I missed either because I wasn’t the right age or because my parents had a strict half hour of television rule was the teenage-drama phenomenon Dawson’s Creek. I think I was more into watching the Rugrats than pseudo soap operas about small towns on Cape Cod.

All of that has changed thanks to the amazing power that is Netflix.

All Dawson’s Creek, all the time. Well, not really all the time. Though I haven’t posted about it much, I’m completing the Columbia Publishing Course this summer. And it’s been an unbelievably hectic schedule filled with some of the most amazing speakers I’ve ever heard. I’ve learned so much about the publishing world it’s incredible, and I would recommend this course to anyone who’s interested in book or magazine publishing.

But it’s drawing to a close tomorrow, and the closer we’ve gotten to the end, the more I find myself watching Dawson’s Creek. It has become my new procrastination tool. (To note, I’ve also read some AMAZING books lately. Check out Gold and The Night Circus and Return to the Olive Farm. Right now. For seriously.) My dissertation for my master’s degree is due at the end of August, and I’ve been writing but not nearly as much as I should. And oddly enough it’s all longhand, which is different for me. Maybe it’s because every time I open my laptop I’m wondering what ridiculous stunts Jen has pulled or how Dawson’s going to make his life even more dramatic in this episode or when will Joey stop being such a pain

Joshua JacksonOr just generally wonder at the coolness of Pacey. Joshua Jackson transcends teenager-dom in this show. It’s fantastic. Seriously. Look at that face. So much cooler than all the other characters. Except James Van Der Beek in “Don’t Trust the Bitch in Apartment 23.” Cause then he’s older, has stubble and is really really funny.

So yeah. This is me being a gushy teenager a little too late. And not doing the writing I’m supposed to be doing by returning to my blog and doing what I do best: warm up. Not procrastinate. I’m just limbering up my fingers to prepare for the onslaught of writing that is about to begin.