Another Semester, Another (Few) Fandom(s)
Sep. 13th, 2009 08:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lunasarielMy sincerest apologies for the month-long absence. Life has been hitting me hard, and even now I'm stealing these few minutes from time I probably should spend finishing up the Astronomy lab due tomorrow, and I need to leave for Judo in half an hour.
Obviously, the new semester has started. I've got a full load of classes, as usual, although thankfully there seems to be more reading than actual homework so far. Judo is sadly diminished, since most of the old hands are taking this semester off, for one reason or another. Actually, since this is my third semester, I might be considered one of the old hands! Wow, scary thought. Anyway, I was thinking of competing this semester, but now I'm probably not going to. If these past few weeks are any indication, I won't have near enough time to put in the kind of training I'd need to if I wanted a prayer of winning. But be that as it may, Judo still rox my sox.
Otherwise, things are pretty good. Intro to Philosophy is bending my mind in all sorts of strange new ways, and my Stellar Astronomy teacher reminds me endearingly of Mr. Del Monte, my exuberant, prematurely balding, high school choir teacher. The accompanying Astronomy Lab isn't so much fun though. Math makes my brain hurt, and the teacher has these weird, permanently bugged-out eyes that kind of creep me out. My History Teacher (U.S. History, Thirteen Colonies - Reconstruction) is an old dear, although he really shouldn't use the Internet so much if he can't get the hang of it. I recently found out that his first teaching job was in Hawaii, the year it acquired statehood. 1959. The year my mom was born. 50 years ago. If he isn't qualified to teach U.S. history, nobody is.
In other news, my fanverse has been expanding by leaps and bounds. I've been working my way through Simon R. Green's Nightside series, and, while it certainly has its merits, my ultimate impression is that of a Dresden Files wannabe, albeit a well-done one. Jim Butcher touches on all the same topics, only better, funnier, and with more impact. My main problem with this series is the hero, John Taylor. First off, he talks too freakin' much. I think I've written on this topic before, so here's the condensed version: a hard-bitten, urban fantasy PI should go more for "taciturn" and less for "loquacious." Also, Green has this habit of creating fairly interesting characters, using them once, and then just tossing them. Reduce, reuse, recycle, man! It feels like there's so much more to do with Razor Eddie, Dead Boy, Sinner, Pretty Poison, Madman, Tommy Oblivion, and the rest, but the way he handles it, there's a certain sense of impermanence, of transience, almost a monster/hero/sidekick-of-the-week quality, a quality that I usually find in certain TV shows. It certainly isn't a bad quality, in small doses. Indeed, a filler episode or two can be a welcome break, now and again. But when a series, whether in print or on TV, is made up of nothing but filler, obviously, actual content suffers.
But mostly, I just don't think he deserves his reputation as an all-powerful badass. Sure, he grows into it, what with him turning out to be Lillith's secret son and all, but in the earlier novels, it really was ridiculous. Terrifying entities, sometimes thousands of years old, who were perfectly capable of killing him in a variety of fascinating and horrible ways literally fled, howling in terror, when he did nothing more threatening than introduce himself. All talk and no walk, that was the impression I got. And that trick where he takes the guns out of bullets? Rule of Cool (it doesn't have to make sense if it's cool enough) all the way. It shows up randomly, four or five books in, with no explanation of how he came by it, why he hasn't used it before, or how it works. It just is. The problem here is that all of his powers are supposed to trace back to his supernatural ability to find lost or hidden things, whether that thing be a runaway kid or the source of a demon's power, and then manipulate it accordingly. But he doesn't need to look for the bullets; he already knows that they're in the gun.
...
OK, *much* later now. As I said, time has a habit of running away with me. In other news, I've been *heavily* into the new Doctor Who and it's spinoff, Torchwood.
I absolutely adore the Ninth Doctor, the one portrayed by Christpher Eccleston. Yes, he's balding, rather gaunt, and has rather astonishing ears, but he's so cute, all the same. And I don't mean "cute" in the teenybopper sense, I mean as in "huggleable" (which isn't a word, but should be). In my two favorite episodes of all time, the arc that encompasses "The Empty Child" and "The Doctor Dances," I fell in love. It was terribly, terribly endearing, his line. I can't recall it word-for-word, but at the end, when he laughs and jubilantly exclaims, "Just this once, everybody lives!" To me, this speaks of a great triumph, and a great tragedy: that the Doctor still can find hope and compassion after 900 years of watching humanity. It's nice to know that such a powerful being is still benevolent to us, and heartwarming to see his compassion and joy, but also heartbreaking, in the knowledge that every death, every failure, must strike him afresh. How would it be, to live for 900 years and never be able to stop caring...
All in all, I absolutely loved Chris Eccleston's portrayal of the Doctor as a man with deep, horrible scars, both physical and psychological, a veteran in every sense of the world, re-discovering a reason to live, and to care. He just makes you want to give him a great big hug. The arc I mentioned above illustrate that perfectly, as well as giving us some truly creepy antagonists (I hesitate to say villains) and, of course, introducing the fabulous Capt. Jack Harkness, who I'll get to later.
The Tenth Doctor has Heather's vote, but I'm not feeling it so much. He's...more chipper, I guess. The pain is buried deeper. Yes, he is younger, and he certainly is a snappy dresser, but he doesn't have the same raw edge that Nine had, the hint that he's just barely hanging on. It's just slightly implausible to me, the way he so blithely puts behind him the destruction of his entire species (quite possibly by his own hand) and his homeworld, not to mention the countless other people and planets that were lost to the Time War.
It's like the first time I saw Star Wars. I was about five. When Alderan blew up, and Obi-Wan said, "Voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." I remember asking my dad if everyone on the planet died. He said yes, they all died. I asked if the puppies died, too (we had just gotten a puppy of our own). He said yes. That was when I first began to understand the concept of total planetary destruction. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that such carnage is a deeply scarring experience, not to mention the knowledge that you are the very last of your once-plentiful, once-mighty species, that there is absolutely *no one* else, and there never will be. I don't think David Tennant quite gets that across.
And then, of course, there's Torchwood. Captain Jack Harkness appeared in the arc I mentioned above as a fun, footloose, and fancy-free omnisexual con man, a good old-fashioned cheeky blighter. He gives the Doctor and Rose a hand (not literally, as far as I can tell) on some of their adventures, unwittingly gains total immortality (it's intimated that he lives to be over *five billion* years old, only to die in New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York, after imparting the mysterious message, "You are not alone" to the Doctor), gets dropped off on present-day Earth, and goes to work for the obligatory secret government alien-catching agency. To get some idea of what Torchwood is like, imagine the Men in Black run by a loudly and proudly bisexual Malcom "Mal" Reynolds. Oh, and they have a pet pterodactyl. I call him Benjamin, although some other Welsh name was mentioned, once.
So far, my favorite character is either Ianto Jones or Toshiko "Tosh" Sato, both highly under-appreciated members within the team. Not flamboyant adventurers like Jack, not cynical and snarky medics like Owen, not endearing newcomers like Gwen, just the quiet "general support" (read: secretary) and technogeek, respectively. Both have character-specific episodes where they lash out, but once they seem to get that out of their systems, they go back to being basically a coffemaker with a tie and a talking computer.
Of course, one of the reasons I like Ianto so much is his relationship with Jack. Jack is obsessed with the Doctor (whose hand, lost in The Christmas Invasion, he keeps in a jar, against said Doctor's return), and while he (Jack, that is) certainly has plenty of sexual relationships, he never gets truly close to anyone. Ianto is always there on the sidelines, mutely and helplessly attracted to Jack, but knowing that he can't compete with a hand in a jar and a dashing Time Lord who might or might not ever return, knowing that Jack would rather pin his hopes on something that might never happen instead of seeing what's right in front of him. But because of all this, the way Jack does finally fall in love with Ianto makes it all the sweeter. Of course, I'm only up to Season 1 (I want to get caught up with Doctor Who before I go any farther), so I haven't seen Season 2 or Children of Earth yet, but a lot of my friends are Torchwood/Janto fans, so I have a basic idea of what's going to happen.
With Tosh, the reason I like her so much is probably just that I identify with her. I know how it is to be the quiet one, necessary for my knowledge but otherwise fairly out of the loop. I could go on this self-indulgent rant about how nobody takes an interest in either of us, how we long for unattainable men who obviously have better things to do than date us, but I won't. I've done the whole self-pity thing, and honestly, it usually causes more problems than it solves.
I am *determined* to post this tonight, probably about a week after I began, so I'll close here.
Obviously, the new semester has started. I've got a full load of classes, as usual, although thankfully there seems to be more reading than actual homework so far. Judo is sadly diminished, since most of the old hands are taking this semester off, for one reason or another. Actually, since this is my third semester, I might be considered one of the old hands! Wow, scary thought. Anyway, I was thinking of competing this semester, but now I'm probably not going to. If these past few weeks are any indication, I won't have near enough time to put in the kind of training I'd need to if I wanted a prayer of winning. But be that as it may, Judo still rox my sox.
Otherwise, things are pretty good. Intro to Philosophy is bending my mind in all sorts of strange new ways, and my Stellar Astronomy teacher reminds me endearingly of Mr. Del Monte, my exuberant, prematurely balding, high school choir teacher. The accompanying Astronomy Lab isn't so much fun though. Math makes my brain hurt, and the teacher has these weird, permanently bugged-out eyes that kind of creep me out. My History Teacher (U.S. History, Thirteen Colonies - Reconstruction) is an old dear, although he really shouldn't use the Internet so much if he can't get the hang of it. I recently found out that his first teaching job was in Hawaii, the year it acquired statehood. 1959. The year my mom was born. 50 years ago. If he isn't qualified to teach U.S. history, nobody is.
In other news, my fanverse has been expanding by leaps and bounds. I've been working my way through Simon R. Green's Nightside series, and, while it certainly has its merits, my ultimate impression is that of a Dresden Files wannabe, albeit a well-done one. Jim Butcher touches on all the same topics, only better, funnier, and with more impact. My main problem with this series is the hero, John Taylor. First off, he talks too freakin' much. I think I've written on this topic before, so here's the condensed version: a hard-bitten, urban fantasy PI should go more for "taciturn" and less for "loquacious." Also, Green has this habit of creating fairly interesting characters, using them once, and then just tossing them. Reduce, reuse, recycle, man! It feels like there's so much more to do with Razor Eddie, Dead Boy, Sinner, Pretty Poison, Madman, Tommy Oblivion, and the rest, but the way he handles it, there's a certain sense of impermanence, of transience, almost a monster/hero/sidekick-of-the-week quality, a quality that I usually find in certain TV shows. It certainly isn't a bad quality, in small doses. Indeed, a filler episode or two can be a welcome break, now and again. But when a series, whether in print or on TV, is made up of nothing but filler, obviously, actual content suffers.
But mostly, I just don't think he deserves his reputation as an all-powerful badass. Sure, he grows into it, what with him turning out to be Lillith's secret son and all, but in the earlier novels, it really was ridiculous. Terrifying entities, sometimes thousands of years old, who were perfectly capable of killing him in a variety of fascinating and horrible ways literally fled, howling in terror, when he did nothing more threatening than introduce himself. All talk and no walk, that was the impression I got. And that trick where he takes the guns out of bullets? Rule of Cool (it doesn't have to make sense if it's cool enough) all the way. It shows up randomly, four or five books in, with no explanation of how he came by it, why he hasn't used it before, or how it works. It just is. The problem here is that all of his powers are supposed to trace back to his supernatural ability to find lost or hidden things, whether that thing be a runaway kid or the source of a demon's power, and then manipulate it accordingly. But he doesn't need to look for the bullets; he already knows that they're in the gun.
...
OK, *much* later now. As I said, time has a habit of running away with me. In other news, I've been *heavily* into the new Doctor Who and it's spinoff, Torchwood.
I absolutely adore the Ninth Doctor, the one portrayed by Christpher Eccleston. Yes, he's balding, rather gaunt, and has rather astonishing ears, but he's so cute, all the same. And I don't mean "cute" in the teenybopper sense, I mean as in "huggleable" (which isn't a word, but should be). In my two favorite episodes of all time, the arc that encompasses "The Empty Child" and "The Doctor Dances," I fell in love. It was terribly, terribly endearing, his line. I can't recall it word-for-word, but at the end, when he laughs and jubilantly exclaims, "Just this once, everybody lives!" To me, this speaks of a great triumph, and a great tragedy: that the Doctor still can find hope and compassion after 900 years of watching humanity. It's nice to know that such a powerful being is still benevolent to us, and heartwarming to see his compassion and joy, but also heartbreaking, in the knowledge that every death, every failure, must strike him afresh. How would it be, to live for 900 years and never be able to stop caring...
All in all, I absolutely loved Chris Eccleston's portrayal of the Doctor as a man with deep, horrible scars, both physical and psychological, a veteran in every sense of the world, re-discovering a reason to live, and to care. He just makes you want to give him a great big hug. The arc I mentioned above illustrate that perfectly, as well as giving us some truly creepy antagonists (I hesitate to say villains) and, of course, introducing the fabulous Capt. Jack Harkness, who I'll get to later.
The Tenth Doctor has Heather's vote, but I'm not feeling it so much. He's...more chipper, I guess. The pain is buried deeper. Yes, he is younger, and he certainly is a snappy dresser, but he doesn't have the same raw edge that Nine had, the hint that he's just barely hanging on. It's just slightly implausible to me, the way he so blithely puts behind him the destruction of his entire species (quite possibly by his own hand) and his homeworld, not to mention the countless other people and planets that were lost to the Time War.
It's like the first time I saw Star Wars. I was about five. When Alderan blew up, and Obi-Wan said, "Voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." I remember asking my dad if everyone on the planet died. He said yes, they all died. I asked if the puppies died, too (we had just gotten a puppy of our own). He said yes. That was when I first began to understand the concept of total planetary destruction. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that such carnage is a deeply scarring experience, not to mention the knowledge that you are the very last of your once-plentiful, once-mighty species, that there is absolutely *no one* else, and there never will be. I don't think David Tennant quite gets that across.
And then, of course, there's Torchwood. Captain Jack Harkness appeared in the arc I mentioned above as a fun, footloose, and fancy-free omnisexual con man, a good old-fashioned cheeky blighter. He gives the Doctor and Rose a hand (not literally, as far as I can tell) on some of their adventures, unwittingly gains total immortality (it's intimated that he lives to be over *five billion* years old, only to die in New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York, after imparting the mysterious message, "You are not alone" to the Doctor), gets dropped off on present-day Earth, and goes to work for the obligatory secret government alien-catching agency. To get some idea of what Torchwood is like, imagine the Men in Black run by a loudly and proudly bisexual Malcom "Mal" Reynolds. Oh, and they have a pet pterodactyl. I call him Benjamin, although some other Welsh name was mentioned, once.
So far, my favorite character is either Ianto Jones or Toshiko "Tosh" Sato, both highly under-appreciated members within the team. Not flamboyant adventurers like Jack, not cynical and snarky medics like Owen, not endearing newcomers like Gwen, just the quiet "general support" (read: secretary) and technogeek, respectively. Both have character-specific episodes where they lash out, but once they seem to get that out of their systems, they go back to being basically a coffemaker with a tie and a talking computer.
Of course, one of the reasons I like Ianto so much is his relationship with Jack. Jack is obsessed with the Doctor (whose hand, lost in The Christmas Invasion, he keeps in a jar, against said Doctor's return), and while he (Jack, that is) certainly has plenty of sexual relationships, he never gets truly close to anyone. Ianto is always there on the sidelines, mutely and helplessly attracted to Jack, but knowing that he can't compete with a hand in a jar and a dashing Time Lord who might or might not ever return, knowing that Jack would rather pin his hopes on something that might never happen instead of seeing what's right in front of him. But because of all this, the way Jack does finally fall in love with Ianto makes it all the sweeter. Of course, I'm only up to Season 1 (I want to get caught up with Doctor Who before I go any farther), so I haven't seen Season 2 or Children of Earth yet, but a lot of my friends are Torchwood/Janto fans, so I have a basic idea of what's going to happen.
With Tosh, the reason I like her so much is probably just that I identify with her. I know how it is to be the quiet one, necessary for my knowledge but otherwise fairly out of the loop. I could go on this self-indulgent rant about how nobody takes an interest in either of us, how we long for unattainable men who obviously have better things to do than date us, but I won't. I've done the whole self-pity thing, and honestly, it usually causes more problems than it solves.
I am *determined* to post this tonight, probably about a week after I began, so I'll close here.
