Serenity

(Original 8/9/06)

I just watched the last episode of Firefly. I had been stringing the viewings along because they are so good and I did not want there to be an end of it. I told this to the fella who gave them to me each time he asked "Did you see them all yet?" He seemed to understand, but he asks me more than once.

Now I have only the movie left. I dread having that finished and having no more of this wonderful show to watch. Chemically, I guess it's all about enjoying the endorphins, and not wanting to lose the rush. I am clearly not considering that there are other great shows out there for me to enjoy. I do not trust that other people are as brilliant as Joss Whedon.

And then there's the creepiness of my personal journey. It happens when I see relatable material. I come here and blog about it--sort of I process my experience so I can move on. I did it with Sideways, I've done it with Doctor Who, I do it with songs, and heck, I've even done it with sermons.

So Firefly is no exception. The last show was a River episode. A bounty hunter snuck on the ship and came for her. She's got a bounty on her head because she's valuable--before the show's premeire episode, she was experimented on and altered in some way that may have made her psychic, or it was done because she may have already been psychic. The movie might reveal more. But this episode was kind of an exploration for the viewer to see what it might be like to be River, in this altered state in which she lives. She hears things that might or might not be real, and it usually involves the people she is surrounded by--the people that cares about her and whom she cares about. The episode evoked the isolation she experiences and her longing for acceptance. But it also clearly demonstrated the facts of her strangeness and even the very real threat she poses to the rest of the crew. I at once was worried for her, plus worried for the crew who had to decide to live with her. Or not to.

Now add a very creepy portrayal of the bounty hunter (the creepiest yet) by actor Richard L. Brooks, with his black erudite flavor (did he come through the same school as Avery ...BROOKS?! A connection?? I must Google!) and the show becomes amazing.

And during all this I drew references to myself as I am wont to do. And it left me feeling too out there. It's no fun being the weird one when you're alone with your thoughts. Oh, it's a ball in a crowd--(cue circus music) amuse your friends, get the attention, leave 'em laughing! "They LOVE me!"

But what's left when they go home, or when you do? You are left with your regrets, your fears, your doubts. You don't know what you don't know, and you are terrified because of it. You would go somewhere else if only you were sure you'd survive the trip.

I'm not the only one this happens to, am I? No, that much I do know. Are we going to be okay?

Eventually.

Either that or our show gets unfairly cancelled.