Preface: This blog has gone through quite a few cycles of birth and rebirth. its purpose changed time and time again. From frustrated attempt at dealing with the challenges of love in my early twenties, to venting the heartache of that love coming to a end, to a sandbox for me to explore myself as a writer. In that time i've had a few readers who read my writing for whatever reasons. And although a review of a sci-fi show seems an odd choice for this final post in some ways it makes sense. This show was once something i shared with the girl i loved in 2004 when i started this blog and in coming to an end it is in some small way the very last "shared" thing to end from that time in my life. A very odd parallel that didn't occur to me until i actually started writing this. In a way i hope she someday gets a chance to see this final episode of the show we started watching together.
Now my thoughts on the show and the finale.
I'm not sure what i can add to what's been written and being written about BattleStar Galactica as a whole, and The series finale. It comes at a time of profound change for television and most other mediums. Newspapers are shutting down, CD's are woefully obsolete and TV shows that depend on things like Nielsen ratings or ad dollares are eeking by on business model that's slowly going obselete. Everyone is scrambling to find solutions. Meanwhile i do what i always do. Consume, Read, Watch, Listen to the things that move me, affect me, make me laugh, cry, or think in whichever way is quickest and most convenient. So i've downloaded every episode for the past year of BSG and the second they hit blu-ray i'll but the whole box set of them.
But i'm writing now not because i feel the need to drone on about new media vs. old media but because i know in my heart that the talent behind a show like BSG must and should be allowed to do what they do best. This show isn't merely entertaining but a beautiful representation of that uniquely human urge to create art. The word is loaded with cliche but art is the most wonderful abstract manifestation of humanities greatest trait. So although i still cringe at the idea of something so transient as a television show being called art, BSG is nothing less than a symphony. It has taken me through a 5 year journey and in bringing me to a finish line i find myself thinking about god, spirituality, and the tiny choices that make us who we are.
I imagine someone listening to Beethoven's Ninth for the first time must have had a similar experience.
Labels: personal
a few things i know.
I know that there is some sort of redemption to be had for love from loving again.
I know that when you're eating ice cream and you get a brain freeze it sucks, but i also know that as soon as the brain freeze has subsided the first thing you do is eat more ice cream.
Love and broken hearts are pretty much the same thing.
Gonna try a little something.
just for me.
once upon a happily ever after i was enamored and playful with words.
No i'm in love and have seemed quite content to just be.
But damn it if i don't miss it. Stringing words.
It meant something to me. readership be damned.
on a side note Ray Lamontagne's voice could make my mental vagina wet.
It's just so damn....weathered. You believe it, instantly.
Sometime you need a little bit of that.
Hearing something with conviction. It helps.
The worlds in chaos, the pendulums swung right back and off its damn axis.
So anything that seems to say. "I know what i'm writing about." helps.
so here's the thing, you start writing, it's almost like jerking off, you blog, you bitch, you do this whole auto-disecting thing and for a while it works. It helps and the more it helps the less you write until eventually you start wondering why you write your little blog, and who reads it, if anyone?
and so months have past and i've writen tech stuff @ stitchrobot.com and design stuff at macthemes.net
and very little of my life has found itself into this blog, and maybe that's okay.
p.s. Sarah Palin freaks me out.
i just watched the debate.
she has the exact same smile in every single picture. I hate smiles that feel rehearsed.
Labels: logic
I've a new mistress and her name is stitchrobot.com
After two years of writing my random musings in this little sandbox of mine i realized that with close to nil readers i was really just writing for myself, despite efforts to bring others into the fold.
The truth is most people just don't give a shit about the well written bitching about a blokes inner struggle to figure himself out.
I know because i don't read too many blogs about other blokes well written bitching about finding themselves.
Enter : stitchrobot.com a blog for me to geek out, to tech cool hunt, to aggregate the plethora of wonderful that i find on the internets. A place to spout mac tutelage and the sort.
Something a bit more...accesible for people to read written by me.
This blog will continue in its current incarnation as a place where i play with words, spout, rage, smile, etc.
no format, no purpose other than to serve as a spill over for the stuff in my head.
and now the musical interlude.