Oodly oodly oodly oo

27 03 2016

Hecate, I’ve been lazy.

I’m mean, I’m taking care of business teaching-wise, but when not prepping or not in class? Bupkis.

Oh, well I have been spending some time with my new phone (a Moto G, in case you’re interested) trying to figure out how it works. It’s quite seductive, really: shiny and new, and with far more power than my first three computers—nice, really.

But also, really: still a phone. My parents called earlier today and it took me about ten seconds to figure out how to answer the damn thing (don’t just hit the icon, but slide it over to the other icon); I also experimented while on the phone with my friend J., figuring out if the earbuds I’d bought for my other phone (which didn’t work because the phone was so, so old) would work (yes), how to look things up while on the phone (gotcha), and how to put it on speaker (failed at this, but I think I know how to do it now).

Oh, and I downloaded the only apps I’ll probably ever need: weather and MTA, and one which might be useful: Twitter. Hell, I might even start tweeting on the regular.

Anyway, it’s a phone, and it’s nice, and it works. As a phone.


Netflix put up the latest season of Crossing Lines, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to watch it. I’d more or less enjoyed the first two seasons, but it got increasingly, ecchhh, baroque? operatic? ridiculous? as it went on, and the last episode of the second season was, frankly, dumb.

Still, I was bored and thought, What the hell, let’s see how they get themselves out of that last episode jam. Whaddya know: not bad.

Only three of the original cast members returned, and the plotting is much cleaner. It’s still only okay, but now it’s okay+, as opposed to okay- and falling.

And it has Goran Višnjić who is, well, who is someone I always enjoy.


Code Black, alas, fell off from it’s strong start. It’s still pretty good, but what was wrenching early on became sentimental later. And instead of letting the complications of the cases lead into the characters, now the characters are being wrung through unnecessary wringers to supply the drama.

Too bad.

Still, not too, too bad. It still had (the season ended in Feb) Marcia Gay Harding, Luis Guzmán, and Raza Jaffrey, after all, so if they bring it back later this year, yeah, I’ll check ‘er out.


Oh, and I don’t know that I’ll ever take a selfie. I was fiddlin’ around with the camera function on my phone, wondering, Hm, how does one take a selfie with this thing, when I noticed the little rotate-camera icon on the bottom and tapped it.

Ook, bad idea: Sunday morning, just out of bed, pre-fully-coffeed, laying on the loveseat with my neck and face all sorta scrunched and. . . yikes, it’s good I live alone.

Yeah, yeah, accept yourself and all that, but y’all know that my hippie streak only extends so far, right?


Then we take Berlin

2 03 2015

Yet another procedural, but with a Euro-twist: Crossing Lines.

I know, pathetic. I did start watching Once, and liked the main character well enough and LOVED the bad gal, and maybe I’ll go back to it, but the whole kid-who’s-sussed-it-all-out trope is a bit much.

And I started Continuum, which is proceduralish, but I’m not crazy about the main character, and, having looked ahead in the plot synopses, I see they they fuck hard with the timeline—and that does not suit me.

I hate it, really. I mean, I liked the timeline-fucking episodes in Star Trek: Voyager and Stargate SG1 but those tended to be stand-alone things, not upend-everything-you-know-forever-with-nary-a-glance-backward (Fringe!). I was actually pissed when Eureka shifted timelines, but they handled it well enough, insofar as the five main characters had to come to terms with the shift, and do so repeatedly.

Why do I hate timelines-shifts? I (irrationally—do I need to put this in here?) take it personally, as if the producers are saying Oh, you got all invested in those characters and their relationships and that whole world? Psych! It also seems cheap, like We ran outta ideas, so. . . , but mostly I feel cheated.

Back to Crossing Lines. It’s got the same set-up as approximately 40.372 percent of all procedurals out there: one man brings together a disparate group of individuals, each with his or her own ISSUES!, and molds them into super-group of crime fighters. And the set-up itself is ludicrous on its face (which, oddly, makes it easier for me to ignore): the International Criminal Court authorizes this super-group to investigate cross-border crimes, apparently on the belief that Interpol and Europol are not up to the task.

Like I said, ridiculous, but the crimes are less pervy-gory (Criminal Minds) and more sober-serious (trafficking trafficking trafficking—except for that one episode about roadside forced-fight club), and the settings are awesome! The Hague! Paris! Prague! Rome! London! There was even an episode set in New York, which, while screamingly wrong*, was still enjoyable, largely because it featured Carrie Anne Moss.

(*As in, prominent shot of the Bergen Street 2-3 train in Manhattan—only there is no Bergen 2-3 stop in Manhattan, and the 3 was in a green rather than red circle. Green is for the deservedly-much-maligned G-line.)

And have I mentioned that Donald Sutherland lords over all of this, enjoyably pompous and given to uttering ridiculous lines with such grave sincerity that, once again, I find it easier to be charmed than put off?

There are only two seasons currently on Netflix, and I only have two episodes left. Who knows, maybe after these I’ll finally fire up Orange is the New Black—which is, it should be noted, not a procedural.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.