Dead Things

1. My voice. Still.

2. Drive—the new TV show starring Nathan Fillion. Who kills a show after three episodes? Oh, right, the same people who killed the last show starring Nathan Fillion. And this time, there aren’t even enough episodes for a shiny DVD set.

3. Joan of Arcadia. Finished the second season recently, and am still bemoaning its untimely cancellation. The reason? Apparently the average-viewer-age was 50, and they wanted to appeal to a younger demographic. (Stupid American youth-driven society.) And I, sadly, didn’t even discover it till it was over.

4. Firefly, of course. And Angel, and Buffy . . . no, wait. Buffy’s alive (again). And there’s a new comic out Thursday. Good timing, too—it’ll be a nice reward after me two finals that day. A nice *small* reward, anyway. The one problem with comic books is that they last about 30 seconds.

5. My academic motivation. But we knew that.

Not-dead-things:

1. Science fiction! Thanks in large part to—

Battlestar Galactica. Three seasons in, the creative team behind this show still doesn’t disappoint. Even their few mistakes (the occasional sub-part episode or annoying subplot) are forgivable in light of their unflagging creativity and their commitment to what the story needs rather than what the fans want. Also, when it comes to raising-the-stakes? *Nobody* does it better than these folks. Nobody. And they just got renewed for a 22-episode fourth season! Woo and hoo.

Also much thanks to Lois McMaster Bujold and her Miles Vorkosigan series. Character-driven sci-fi, carefully plotted, with elements of spy-stories, mystery, and space opera . . . not to mention complex and believable social and political structures *and* genuine scientific knowledge—well, it’s not easy to find. Or to write. Plus they’re just fun. I’ve read most of the series now (including three in the past 2 ½ days), and they’re highly recommended. For, um, older persons.

2. Tolkien. Christopher Tolkien, that is. He’s just published a novel-length version of the Turin story, edited together from the many incomplete versions left by his father. Which leads to the question: who should direct that almost-inevitable movie adaptation? And who should be cast as Turin-Turambar-Mormegil?

Dying things:

1. Veronica Mars. The first of season three’s final five episodes airs tomorrow night. According to internet rumor, these five episodes are most likely the end of the show as we know it. Next year it will be (a) cancelled, or (b) revamped to the point of unrecognizability. And, well, season 3 has been rapidly declining anyway.

2. This semester. (Calloo, callay! We chortles in our joy.)

3. My bank account. 1 ½ hours in daily commute time, and 2.79 is a good price for gas.

Undead things:

1. 12-tone music. Seriously—go listen to it.

3. Vampires. Obviously. (Unless we’re talking about I Am Legend, ‘cause in that some of them are alive. It’s all scientific and weird and depressing, though, so let’s talk about something else) . . . .

2. . . . like the practice organ upstairs. It lurks in a windowless practice room, waiting to numb the senses and dismay the heart with hideous screeches and dead Gs. In fact, that’s probably the reason why organ majors are so scarce—it kills them. I should be safe, though: I never go in there.