Nov. 17th, 2008

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True Blood: While it's nice that Alan Ball and the writers have been putting in all these little side plots that have nothing to do with the books, it is starting to get on my nerves. There is plenty of story in the books; no need to add unnecessary characters or storylines (Amy, Jessica, Jason's V addiction, Tara's problems).
Charlotte, who is very active on HBO's True Blood message boards, said that some female fans who are enamored of Bill Compton refuse to read past book two, because after that, Sookie and Bill break up; and the fans don't want to see Sookie with anyone else. I find this ridiculous and puzzling. It's Charlaine's books. She wrote them. It's not like the fans can change anything. I personally feel that they need to get over it, read all the books, enjoy it all for what it is. I'm enjoying the show for what it is, despite all the changes and randomness.

It makes me wonder if some hardcore fans of a book series or television series have a tenuous grip on reality and sanity. For example, the Twilight fandom. Some of those women and girls are outright terrifying. They cannot seem to distinguish fantasy from reality at all. They appear to devote their lives to these fictional characters, becoming so obsessed, so hysterical, that they want nothing more than to become the characters, be with real-life versions of the characters, to be in that fantasy world to the near-exclusion of the real world. And that worries me deeply, because the main love interest is an abusive stalker who wants to bind the main female character to him, and the main female character is a vapid simpleton who deliberately doesn't a life without her love interest. Teenage and preteen girls are thinking that this is romantic love? I feel awful and sympathetic for Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart. The insanity these actors have to deal with is mind-blowing. People can't seem to understand that it's all fiction. I wish I'd never even heard of the Twilight series. It's not about my opinions of the books themselves, it's the fact that people are willing to go to unbelievable, dangerous lengths to emulate the passions of a purely fictional world.
It is one thing to love, adore, cherish, and enjoy a fictional world to the fullest extent that you can. It is another thing to obsess about that world, become hysterically fanatical about that world, rabidly attack critics of the medium, do whatever you can to meld yourself into that world to the point where others wonder about your sanity, and you are unwittingly the subject of snarkings, sporkings, and negative reviews scattered across online and paper media.

I think this is the reason why I refuse to get heavily involved with any fandom. I'm crazy enough without having to apologize for other people's batshit insanity.
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I'm reading through Ursula Vernon's webcomic Digger. It's awesome and adorable and also quite philosophical. For a wombat.

All three cats have taken to sleeping on the bed with Adam and me. Luna, in particular, has started curling up against me like a living teddy bear, so I can put my arm around her and snuggle her. She will purr until I fall asleep, and I will wake up to her licking my nose.

Tonight's episode of "Heroes" ("It's Coming") is mind-blowing.

Acai Green Tea from The Republic Of Tea tastes so fantastic.

My skin hates cold weather. It's already turning dry, cracked, and tight. I have all sorts of lotions, creams, and massage oils, and while they help immensely, the cold keeps attacking. And so it goes.

Adam and I are discussing superpowers. He wants invulnerability and immortality and super-sonic flight. I want biokinesis and telekinesis and telepathy.

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