I'm depressed. Quite depressed. I conjure I'll be grumpy and listless for quite some time to come. "Honestly, there could be tears."
See, I've fallen in love. Shiny, right? Very shiny. Except I fell in love with a tv show that only ever got 14 episodes and one movie made (so far, at least), and I have watched all the eps in the space of eleven days, ten of them in the last three nights.
I never do that. Never ever ever. Were I left to my own ways, I'd've made those 14 eps last me a whole year. At the very least. But the Chameleon is only here until the end of the week, and she fell in love with this show too...and since I went and bought it and all, we just spent our three days off watching eps and falling deeper and deeper under the spell of a man who already rules half my 'verse.
Because, of course, the show I fell in love with is his Firefly. I'm already a lover of Angel and a follower of Buffy, and now...I'm a 'Browncoat'. I might even sign me up on the official roster (and yes, there is one--I remember seeing it when on my mad quest to find hot pictures of Mal Reynolds last night).
You remember me seeing Serenity last fall and liking it muchly? So I got my name on the list at the library to get the first disc of the series. Got that just before Christmas, we watched it after our Christmas Eve party here, and I was so hooked, lined, and sinkered, I went and ordered it online. And the soundtrack.
So now I'm in the depths of black, blotchy despair. I've seen all the episodes. No more new Mal moments. No more rampaging Jayne. No more Kaylee being clever or River going crazy brilliant.
Oh, you can bet I'll be rewatching these eps for months to come. And rewatching. Who knows, might even write me some fanfic eventually. Once I stop pouting.