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February 21st, 2018

[Author's Note: this post just turned into 3500 words of pure stream-of-consciousness typing. En...joy? It might be more of just a record for me to review later.]

I turned my TV off a week ago when I moved it during cleaning, and now that it's across the room and can't be seen from the computer, I haven't turned it on since. I feel ocasional pangs of missing Seinfield and Wheel of Fortune, but not enough to go through the effort of moving it over. Thanks, Olympics, for killing off primetime this month! That sounds sarcastic but it is not.

That said, I have been running around playing in old fandoms behind the scenes for the past month. I kept trying to figure out how to write about them but I could never get my words lined up to say just what I wanted to say, so here goes:
I DO still intend to write about the finale, but right now I'm apparently coping with The Brave going into a coma it may not come out of hibernation by a) locking it in The Cold Storage vault where I try to avoid thinking about or interacting with its fandom, so that nothing changes from when I last saw it, and b) immersing myself in other Mike Vogel projects, which at this point largely means "back to Under the Dome," since Netflix is disinterested in showing me any of his awesome-looking 2000s movies. I spent 2 or 3 intense weeks with it, awash in the near-endless stream of shipper squee that show provides.

Then, as my heart remembered the 56,000 reasons I love Julia, I followed Rachelle back to my beloved Off the Map, and after another week of that I'm kinda back on a Martin Henderson kick. And by "kinda" I mean "ALL I WANT IN LIFE IS THIS DASHING KIWI WITH DREAMIER HAIR THAN MCDREAMY AND AN A+ BROODY MCSADFACE."

And that is where our story really takes off.Collapse )

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