A Second Look at Buffy.

My boyfriend loves Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I mean loves. He has all the DVDs and I think he's watched them more than once, maybe a lot more than once. Before last night I hadn't seen a whole episode of Buffy. I caught a few random clips here and there, but it never grabbed me, in fact it kind of turned me off. You could even say that I have been an unapologetic Buffy naysayer.

However, since M is one of the smartest people I've ever met, I am reexamining my attitude.

I watched the first 2 episodes last night with M. They were pretty much what I expected. Sarah Michelle Geller is one of the most annoying actors I've ever watched. The writing is clumsy and forced.

For instance, early on there's a scene in the school hallway where the cute boy wants to meet Buffy, the hot new girl. She drops her books, he sees his opportunity and runs to her side. He says, "Can I have you?" There's an awkward pause and then he corrects himself, "I mean, Can I help you?"

Let's take it apart. It's a standard sitcom-style joke. A nervous character tries to say something but stumbles and mixes up the words in some way that makes the statement suggestive. The joke depends on 1) the intended statement being completely believable and natural, and 2) the mangled version of it being completely natural-sounding if inappropriate. A high school boy who wants to help a girl pick up her dropped books is not going to say, "Can I help you?" He's not a cashier at McDonald's. And "Can I have you?" is sort of suggestive if you think about it, but this kind of joke depends on you not having to think about it. And "Can I have you?" is not anything that anyone would actually say. Most of the dialogue has this sort of artificial feel. I see the jokes, but they don't make me laugh.

Besides these technical criticisms, there just wasn't anyone in the story I identified with or cared about. They were all broad stereotypes, and just the negative stereotypes: shallow cheerleader, absent-minded smart girl, the bitch who everyone worships, the clueless self-involved parent. None of them seems to have any kind of inner life. Even Buffy's desire to fit in -- which is set up as the narrative engine -- never feels urgent or poignant or real. I don't know if that's because of the writing or because Geller's face is always just sort of blank.

The show felt like a cartoon. I didn't believe any of it. I was unmoved. Not once did I spontaneously laugh.

But! I said I would watch more of it and reserve judgment. Okay, it's too late for reserving judgment, but I will continue watching and try to relax my expectations and be open to unexpected rewards. It's not giving me what I want, but maybe I just don't get it yet. Maybe it's like Glee -- another show M loves and I think is dreadful. Another show full of unlikeable high school kids.

I have a hunch my distaste for Buffy and Glee is related to my dislike of comic books and superheroes. In fact, when I was watching Buffy and rolling my eyes at the ridiculously implausible librarian character, it occurred to me that a character like that, and in fact the whole setting and premise of the story, would be completely at home in a comic book. Here's a short essay I wrote a while back about comics.

My taste in high school pathos TV is more My So-Called Life -- which also dealt in high school archetypes. I guess I just prefer a more naturalistic style of storytelling. I watched every episode of My So-Called Life and cried like a 15-year-old girl. Maybe I just like my high school drama more sentimental than ironic:



Addendum: On the subject of comics and the Archies, here's some fun news. It's interesting that the only comics I enjoyed as a kid were the Archies, not the superhero stuff. Yet, there have been several gay superheroes in comics in the last several years, and only now a gay character in the Archies.

Teaser.

I'm transcribing my high school diary for a video I'm making. It's an exercise in self-mortification. My favorite entry so far -- undated, but it's from early 1976:

"I couldn't believe Barbra Streisand was on the Grammy Awards the other night. She almost doesn't seem real, she's so fantastic, like a goddess. She's got to be the most fantastic person alive."

Breathing.

My sleep apnea has been bad lately. I should say it's been less frequent but more severe. I can almost count on triggering it by falling asleep on my back, so I've been sleeping on my side for the last few months. But even then it happens sometimes. Since this started -- I guess a few years ago? I don't remember exactly -- it's been pretty much the same: I wake up with the feeling that I'm choking, I sit up, take a huge breath, and I'm a little freaked out but fine. But when I was in Mexico I had an episode that sent me flying out of bed. I couldn't catch my breath by sitting up, I had to be standing, or at least it felt that way. I had another bad one the other night. I woke up and took a deep breath, but it felt like my throat collapsed again, I took another deep breath, same thing again, another deep breath, and finally I was able to keep breathing normally.

I've also noticed the last few days that throughout the day I frequently feel short of breath and have to take a few deep breaths to "catch up," similar to the feeling I have at high altitudes. I wonder if this worsening is connected to the emotional stress I've been under recently or if my throat is actually collapsing. What is it, MS?, where one of the first symptoms is difficulty swallowing? But that's not really what this feels like.

Should I be alarmed? I mean, I am alarmed, but should I be? I can't go see a doctor. I can't imagine going to the emergency room with sleep apnea.

And then this in the Times this morning. Lovely.

After my food stamp meltdown yesterday, I took a 3-hour nap. (To add insult to injury, I had to return the Barbara Kingsolver book, which I'd been enjoying so much, to the library. It was 3 days overdue, and I can't check it out again because there's a hold on it. I went to Half Price Books to see if I could get a copy cheap, but they didn't have it.) When I woke up I had a message from M asking me over for leftovers and a movie. I could hardly keep from crying when I got there and he asked me how I was. I wanted so badly not to fall apart in front of him, but I couldn't help it. We went for a long walk and he listened to my sad tale, gave me advice and encouragement. I felt a bit better. I spent a few hours today researching grants.

Monday, Monday.

That job possibility I mentioned? 20 hours a week, $10/hour, no benefits, basically clerical work in an obstetrics clinic, with flexible hours. So, it could be a nice, provisional situation. A little income. About the same pay as substitute teaching. But starting a job now would prevent me from enrolling in a drug study. I need the big paycheck from a drug study to get over this hump, to get through the summer, and to pay for the course to be certified for teaching English. So ... the timing sucks.

I woke up at 7:30 at M's house this morning, for my 8 a.m. appointment at the food stamps office, which is right around the corner from M's. When I got there, at 7:50, I realized I didn't have the papers I needed (recent pay stubs and bank statement). So I drove home, got the stuff and returned at 8:14. Too late. The next available appointment was April 28. While I was waiting to talk to someone about rescheduling, I kind of fell apart, started crying. I don't think anyone noticed.

It got down to about 55 degrees last night and everyone was buzzing about how cold it is. I don't get this place.

I Want a Pre-Historic Man.

And then there's Ann Miller. Look at her go.