For the past week I’ve been applying for jobs with ever-decreasing enthusiasm, enjoying the air-conditioning, and my friends, and life in the tank-top and flip-flop lane. I keep reminding myself not to panic about finding a job, because every time I spend useless amounts of time panicking, something comes along and I could have spent all that panic time doing something more useful.
Like obsessing over geekery!
Currently I am obsessed with two things: Doctor Who and Harry Potter. Doctor Who fans, you should get behind me when I say I cried for 20 minutes at the finale of Season 2 for reasons I shan’t spoil here. SERIOUSLY THOUGH WTF. When we went to Jeb and Neela’s to watch the start of Season 3 on their enormous shiny television, I spent most of the first two episodes curled in the corner looking exceedingly grumpy at the whole experience. I even begrudged David Tennant how adorable he is and he IS adorable. I am clearly not over the end of Season 2 yet.
Also Harry Potter! I don’t think there is oxygen enough in the universe for how much geeking out I’m willing to do over Book 7 so I will just point you to one of my favorite people in the universe: Raychul. Her last few posts in the past two weeks – hey, studying for the Bar is nothing compared to Horcruxes – have been full of ideas and theories I hadn’t even stumbled across in the hours of brain-churning I’ve done.
All this geekishness really drives home the amount my tastes have broadened and changed in the past five years. I always loved Harry Potter from the beginning, but Battlestar Galactica? Doctor Who? Firefly? YA Fantasy and cold war spy thrillers and futuristic sci-fi? I’m even reading Buffy Season 8 in Dark Horse comics! Have you heard my opinion on reading comics? I just can’t do it. I can’t divide my attentions between pictures and words. But where Whedon leads, I follow. And space! Have you heard what I think of space? Space is bullshit! And yet here I am obsessing over Kobol and Starbuck and DAMN, how many times can Sharon die?
My whole reading and consuming life – books, primarily, but movies and TV as well – has changed and expanded. I think it’s for the better, although you should see how far back my dad’s eyes manage to roll (which, buddy, you read Sydney Sheldon. Gimme a break!) when I start geeking out like this. Partly, it’s the influence of my friends, who are all delightful geeks, but I like to think I’ve become more open-minded about what makes a good story, and what makes a great idea.
Which is really the black-teeshirt-wearing heart of my point here. There are all these things that make great, soaring, beautiful stories, and they’re not really in The New Yorker or on NPR. They’re not in the traditional places I used to look to inspiration, places that are starting to seem positively RGB compared to the million points of color and madness you find when you give reality the slip.
It’s refreshing and enlightening and absorbing to look into uber-realities and sub-realities and alternate realities and still see humanity and struggle and beauty. Which is still my requirement – I need to see people. Or even alterna-people. But they need to have lives and struggles and souls and needs. And they do! Even when it takes place on the seventeenth moon of Gool or has tentacles in its forearms.
So I guess from several miles into the border of this strange and hypercolored land, I’m looking back and yelling down the tracks to any of you that are still stuck in the (admittedly wonderful world of) Penguin Modern Classics: you should set aside some of those easy-to-carry preconceptions and go exploring. It’s wild out here on the frontier.

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