Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened? Just over two weeks ago I said I'd actually be around. And then I wasn't. WAT. That just happened.
ANYWAY. I'm catching up on TV stuff, I'm watching Ashes to Ashes and then like
quiet_fractures some of you have pushed, I'll watch Being Human. Plus, I'm still watching my American shows.
Speaking of...
So, BSG is over. Wow. It's a little like relief for me because I've been wondering when I'd stop watching since the second half of season 2.
I wasn't as happy with the finale as I wanted to be. I'm fine with ambiguity, but I feel they fucked up with Kara, I needed something a little more solid than whatever they did with her.
They left Lee alone, which WHY WOULDN'T THEY? Nobody who writes on that show gave a shit about him anyway, why should I expect any content or happy ending for him? So, eh.
Also, FUCK YOU RDM.
I was...really surprised that more didn't die. Yeah, I'm fucking morbid, but this was never a show that I thought would give me a "happy" ending. Sharon and Helo and Hera happy? Yes, expected, and as it should be.
But I may or may not have wanted Baltar and Caprica!Six to die, I won't confirm either way, but I did expect them to die. But I like that we're left with the memory of the fact that they started this. It's mean of me, I know, and I'm sure some didn't like that, but I did because I think it should rub us(me) the wrong way that they still get to live.
I've been expecting them to kill Lee for a long time, I thought Chief was a goner for some reason (maybe that's me projecting for him fucking over his kid because the writers thought it oh so cool that Cally be a dead cheater and also that Hot Dog should be an abandoning father).
I was sad when Laura died, but it's something so expected that I didn't really cry that hard.
I'm sorry, I'd love to go on more, but I'm out. I was emotionally mostly over this show a long time ago. RDM gave us the best ending he thought possible. I'll live with that.
I've also somehow, very mysteriously, gotten back into Heroes. The hell?
And for some personal news, I got to spend last weekend with my grandmother and her sister, my aunt Jane/Faye/Rose/Whatever the fuck she wants to go by. Ah, three things I learned:
- I have a really small bladder.
- Older people don't know or don't seem to know/care about names. But they sure as hell know (or seem to know) if you're Mexican, Italian or apparently Irish (which I'm not, actually, and baby name sites tell me that Megan is Welsh).
- And I now know of a traveling Christian group that uses concrete as a prop.