I think my feet still hurt from yesterday. Walking around plus 2 hours of dancing. I’m old…
This week is going to suck. And I”m not off to a good start (what? on tumblr when I’m supposed to be revising my interviewing paper? NEVER.) I have presentation notes due Thursday, this revised paper due Wednesday, a presentation meeting on Wednesday for a presentation next Monday, a case study due next Monday, and am planning on getting frantic emails from the woman at the APP office about how I don’t have an internship placement yet. Oh yeah and readings and such and - I’m coming out to my parents on Friday which is going to be AWESOME.
Not much to say except this is one of the more emotionally wrenching pieces of original music ever written for the small screen. Giacchino’s final love letter to the series, marrying the soft voices of piano and strings and not much else, is a proper sendoff indeed.
Um - YES. All of this. I ALWAYS cry during this piece. Without fail. If I’m watching it, then it may be like actual crocodile tears instead of just sniffling. Michael Giacchino is a GENIUS composer. His damn music made me cry at the last scene of “Super 8” (true story.) I’m certain that his music was not a small part of why I loved this show so much.
It was supposed to be a simple evening for DV: she’d eaten dinner, wasted time on tumblr, browsed the internet, and was just awaiting a text from her girlfriend to let her know when they would be headed to the Gay Boy Squad Showtunes Sing-a-long. Clearly this required more energy than usual and hence, a nap was needed.
Yet DV could never have known what was in store when she lay down on her bed, hopeful for just a half hour’s worth of slumber.
Entering her bedroom, DV decided she was too tired to boot the cat out, who gave her a small, plaintive “mew”, all curled up in a black and white innocuous ball of fluff.
How could DV have known what extensive ramifications would arise from such an error in judgment? Unfortunately for her, she had failed to correctly identify said innocuous fluffball as the little known species of the Black and White Headbutting Cat.
This species can, indeed, be difficult to identify because sweetly kneading paws and gentle purring are its stealthiest forms of camouflage. But its dogged persistence in achieving a headscritch knows no limitations. It was not enough to headbutt her hand, desperate for a scritch - oh, no. This cat was determined that the fingers attached to that hand should be moving at all times, and thus admonished with a less-than-plaintive and much-louder, sleep-preventing “MROW” each time the fingers ceased their scratching. Headbutting commenced in all directions as well. If the hand stopped, the headbutting started at the arm, followed by the leg and the hip. The Black and White Headbutting Cat is also very skilled at the art of personwalking, another well-known tactic for nap derailment.
But alas! DV realized her mistake too late. She had closed the door and there was no escape from the Black and White Headbutting Cat. Those who are unfamiliar with the species may have suggested that DV simply remove said cat from her room once she realized how severely her nap was going to be derailed. But they would be failing to take into account one final tactic in this species’ arsenal of nap derailing tactics: underthebedding. Yes, when this species starts to sense that all efforts to derail a nap have failed, it resorts to the art of scurrying under the bed into the furthest corner to avoid capture and subsequent ejection from its habitat.
Luckily, DV’s evening was not ruined, even when the other species decided to make an appearance right before DV left (the little known genus of Grey Cats, the Grey Goldfish, who decided to investigate when the apartment door was open but quickly forgot where she lived and thus resorted to caterwauling at other’s doors at 11 at night while running away in terror from her owner.) In fact, it turned into a night of discovery for DV who learned that Tim Rice had actually composed different lyrics to the Evita classic “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” when Madonna performed it for the movie:
"Don’t cry for me, all you gay boys
The truth is I have no talent
All through the 80’s you bought my LPs
What were you thinking?
You silly faggots!”
DV went home with such wonderful songs in her head from musicals she learned as a child to some of the newer ones and finally enjoyed a peaceful (albeit short) night’s rest until the Black and White Door-Rattling Cat and the Grey Screeching Cat woke her up this morning.