Death of another noble title?

It's week two without my Studio 60. Is it gone forever? Life is losing meaning...

First...just what the hell is The Black Donnely's? Why am I supposed to want to watch it? What in the world does it have in common with Studio 60?! Does NBC think they can cancel my favorite show (erm, put it on "indefinite hiatus") and pawn off a mediocre stinker like The Black Donnely's as a replacement? Apparently, they think they can.

You want to know why I liked Studio 60 so much? They carelessly made fun of media giants like NBC; nay, they ripped 'em a new one. That show irreverently laughed in the face of just about everything you can currently see on TV--the slathering dramatics, the relentless, weepy, feel-good, tissue box, audience-underestimating, tired, worn-out programming that gets regurgitated week after week by "Big Television". Now, if that statement comes as a shock to you, or you simply can't understand why in the world someone would say a thing like I just have, then please close you browser now; Oprah and Dr. Phil probably miss you.

Studio 60 was rebellious...edgy. I imagine that if there had been a show this week they'd have slipped in some jab at the whole Anna Nicole circus that's plagued the airwaves lately. That's totally conjecture, sure, but it could have happened. We're talking about the same show that featured the "Nazi" Santa Clause for crying out loud.

I loved how each show would open: Some flurry of dialog would ring out, and some obstacle--some peril or other--would threaten or stand in opposition to some of the cast members and ultimately "the show". Then, right as the weight of whatever problem it was fully sunk in, the Studio 60 title screen would flash on and the victorious melody of the show's theme music would play out. This is a show about beating the odds. That's what the notes of the guitar and brass sang out. No matter what the problem is, we're plowing right ahead and facing it.

I'll be the first to admit, it's a formulaic show. I love it all the same. As long as each episode was creative and inventive, I didn't care that I could see the formula. The show was about being outnumbered, being outgunned, being the underdog, and coming out ahead--even if it was just a small step ahead. Forgive the dramatization of this comparison, but I liken it to one of my favorite movies in recent years: Master and Commander. In the same way that the captain of the smaller, lighter, weaker ship used brilliant tactics to gain the upper hand and subdue the ship that could easily overpower him, so Matt and Danny brashly and creatively faced down the obstacles in their path, threats of cancellation, and won the right to air their show the next week.

It's a pity real life hasn't turned out the same way.

I'll miss more than just that. Studio 60 actually found a way to my heart without attempting to emotionally rape me as most other television shows would. I'll never forget Sting on his lute propounding "Fields of Gold" so delicately, so beautifully; I'll never forget The City of New Orleans on Christmas Eve playing "O Holy Night" and the near magical way it transported me back to a time in my life when things were simpler, when my heart could feel that Christmas had come.

Thank you, Studio 60. You were a breath of fresh air in a room full of sarin gas.

Riddle me this, Riddle me that...

What follows is an excerpt from a letter to a good friend. I thought it to be blogworthy:

"I've actually been sick the last couple days with a sinus infection, and not much in the mood to be online or anything. Thankfully I think the worst of it is over now.

I really wish I had the energy to meet people and try new things that involved others. But just the thought of meeting new people and doing the whole "getting to know you" thing is exhausting. I've discovered that it's a rare occasion when I actually meet someone who sparks any type of interest in me. Lots of the sane people my age are married, have kids, and are therefore not on the same page as me; and a huge percentage of single people my age live dumbed-down lives - they bustle with activity, but it's moronic. So I'm either left to join the ranks of married people with kids, water down my intelligence and flay myself out in the meet-market, or hold fast as I am and hope against hope that I'll run into a kindred spirit sooner or later.

I've found a little fun in having my car. (I'm SO my father's daughter!) I've spent my time lately researching the kind of improvements that I can make to it, mostly performance improvements - it's so pretty looking as it is, there's no need to try to fix the looks. So that's been somewhat of a new thing to occupy my time and mental functions. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that the "new thing for me to try" (as has been suggested by a few friends) is something that's done alone. Most of the things I like to do don't really involve other people. I guess that's why I like being online so much. I have all these vast resources right at my fingertips...

And then a thought comes (and pardon me for majorly waxing philosophical)... What am I doing that's good in my life? Am I helping people? Am I just living for me? The answers to those questions are: a. Not much. b. Not really. c. Yeah, mostly. Maybe one of my huge problems is that I'm not much of a giver. I've been terminally selfish my entire life. I'm like Ebeneezer Scrooge - kinda living life on my own terms and only sharing with those people whom I deem "worth it". You know all those people who would give you the shirt off their back? Why are they always so happy? Are they just not tied to the things they possess? Do they give no thought to their own personal time (which I consider invaluable)?

And then another thought comes... Is my life like it is because I've made it this way? Should I point the finger at myself? Have I been the one driving myself to times of misery?

What if I gave of my time and belongings and money with no thought? What kind of person would I become? Would I go mad? Would it free me from whatever holds me down?

Do I control it all? Can I will myself to change? Or am I completely helpless and trapped?

All tough questions. And I ask myself things like that on a pretty regular basis. I'm restless in life...can you tell?? :) I want adventure! I want to be part of something bigger than me, and I want to be important - not a big-shot, but needed, helpful, desirable. And maybe that's why I spend my time alone mostly nowadays, because there seems to be no epic with a part written for me. Maybe it feels like life itself doesn't have any need for me. (Don't take that the wrong way... Even if I really thought that life didn't need me, I'd go on living for as long as I damn well could - just to spite it.) =) Haha...maybe I'm sulking. Maybe I want too much in life.

Ah well, enough of the philosophical shtuff for now. Tis a bottomless rabbithole, and I'm not in the mood for rabbits right now!

I think tonight I'll jump back on CoH. I've not been spending much time on SL lately. All my friends there (well, lots of them anyway) are "important people" - lucky me. But now they're off doing important things, and don't have much time for socializing, or losing interest in hanging with me. Maybe I bore them, who knows. I find that when I go there, no one's looking for me. I've spent hours there without one personal IM lately. (I actually joined an in-world group that helps noobies, which I've treated like a project. It's actually pretty fun to spread knowledge around, and I realize that I know a lot more than I thought I did.)"

...who's afraid of the big black bat?

Why I'm here

As advertised, here I am again. Tonight I sit (well, sprawl) in my chair, trusty laptop humming away on my lap, headphones hugging my head, and a can of V8 (which is both half full and half empty; the former because I still have half a can available to drink, the latter because I'll miss it once it's gone) at my side.

Once again I'm alone in the room, the TV is on - mostly obscured by my computer's screen - with no one really watching (Dancing with the Stars winning only occasional glances from me). One of the little ironies of my home life is that I rarely turn the TV on, and yet I usually end up the sole person near it while it's on. Usually it gets no attention from me whatsoever - I despise most programming. Seriously, what happened to great shows like the Cosby Show, Knight Rider, Seinfeld; the times when Eddie Murphy was a skinny little comedian doing his Velvet Jones act and impersonating James Brown on SNL? (And Star Search? The Smurfs? Rainbow Bright? The Care Bears? Saturday morning cartoons that weren't dominated by Anime influences?)

Take this with a grain of salt, cuz I'm an old soul.

My evenings are spent online; cyberspace dominates so much of my time that it's hard to make any distinction between Real Life, Secondlife, CoH, Blogspot, or whatever else I may feel like dabbling in. It's also hard to prioritize my time amongst them all. Usually Secondlife and CoH get the bulk of my time - SL more so since more of my friends are there. But tonight after having done a little random web surfing, I felt pulled to come here and write.

I like writing, and I consider it to be one of my stronger points. It's not that I'm greatly gifted in the technicalities of English, it's just that I have the gift of being able to communicate on a person-to-person level. And I suppose that, in a way, I'm writing my story. This is my ongoing story: one blog, random posts. The subject matter may (and will) change from time to time, and there may not (and likely won't) be any clear thought progression from one post to the next. And such is my life, such am I. Yet if there is one constant to which I hold, it's my need to be known - I desire it over most other things in life. Paradoxically, I don't consider myself a very knowable person. I dislike too much attention, I'm not fond of popularity, I shy away from mass social encounters. I mostly stick to myself. (For God's sake, I spend most of my time clutching a Dell construct of plastic, metal and flowing electrons.) When I venture out, it's for groceries or coffee (we just got a Peet's!! I'm SOOO happy!), or to the music store, or the bookstore. From all appearances, you'd think that I enjoy my solitude. And I try to, but usually to no great success.

So when I say that I want to be known, understand that it's not me vying to seize my 15 minutes. In all honesty, I expect that most everything I write will be skipped over; I don't broadcast to friends and family (or anyone for that matter) that I have a blog. Not hardly. I come here to blog because, in a way, I feel that each post is a little note I'm writing to some unknown person...as if I'm stuffing notes into bottles and letting the ocean's currents take them wherever they may. And I guess my hope is that maybe, just maybe, someone stranger might come along, read what I've written, and feel a familiar chord struck in their being; so that they pause and think, "Wow, I know this person." That is being known; and that is what I desire. I'm not afraid to admit that I find the greatest fulfillment in that.

I only wish I could translate the things I feel and think into a more coherent composition. And I say "translate" deliberately, because thoughts come to me in the form of feelings and pictures, and to describe them takes time and, well...internal deliberation. Sometimes I wish I could just plug my heart into someone else's, so that they could experience first-hand the things that abide there - beauty, anguish, longing, love - instead of reading my wordy "translations" of those things, which are a dull echo at best.

Love. Taking away all pretense, and whittling this thought process to its pointed end, that is my motivating force. Yes I want to be known, but to be known in the way that I seek it...it becomes synonymous with love. For when one person knows another, in all their heights and all their depths, and still desires to know more, what other name would you give it?

Alas, I've waxed into the deeps...I'm always in the deep end. :) Now do you see why I don't socialize much? Haha. I'm not so proficient in the light-hearted, superficial subjects that pass as acceptable fodder for comfortable social situations. (Hell, people hardly even know what I'm talking about half the time. If that statement puzzles you, just re-read the sentence that precedes the parenthesis.)

And my growling tummy tells me that it's time to wrap this up. I hope you (whomever you are) enjoyed reading this; I hope you understood it...at least some of it! I had fun writing it :)

And so ends yet another page in the chapter, in the book, in the volume of the chronicles of my life - what it is, has been, and will be.

Woohoo! My first post here!

Well it's about time I geared down (or up, depending on how your mind works) and posted something to this. Fun facts that come to my head for this initial post are as follows:

1. No one will come looking for my blog.
2. This blog will only be read by people who either came here by mistake or were mindlessly surfing the web.
3. The chances of item 2 happening are minimal.

So? This is my desert island; I'm fairly alone here. Basically that means that my writing here is therapeutic. It gives me an excuse to spend even more time online...haha. As if I didn't already....

But you know, after having so many friends who complain and complain about how they can't get away from customers/acquaintances and enjoy their online time as they once did, I've come to reason that anonymity isn't a bad thing. Sure, I could probably deal with a little less of it, but on the whole it's a good thing. (I'm no megalomaniac.)

Am I writing to myself though? No. Ironic? Perhaps.