Alright. Tonight's Buffy is a mouthful. In order to satisfy the curious (and because I just like to write about this stuff), I'm going to ramble a bit about it right now while it's all fresh. But I might have some other stuff to say on other topics too. So, in an effort not to pull a "Lone Gunmen are Dead", this rambling will not be presented in the order is written. I'll write about tonight's Buffy first, but then move the spoiler comments to the very bottom, after the other stuff, so people who just want to read non-spoilerific things about my life can do so, and those who are interested in my thoughts on Buffy can continue to the end (but I will write that part first). Mmmmkay?

---

Timejumping to after I wrote the bottom portion of the rambling. It is now 21:38. Yikes. After writing all that, I have come to the conclusion that some of us take our television shows altogether too seriously. Moving on to other topics...

Today, even moreso than yesterday, my legs have been giving me recurring reminders of where I spent Sunday night. Every time I try to stand up from a sitting position, the sharp soreness goes shooting through my thighs. Walking up and down stairs really sucks. I must've really torn those muscles up. But do I regret it? Not for a moment. I'm sure I'll be back for more in the not-too-far future. :)

Another thing I've noticed: Even since Saturday, my appetite has been smaller than it usually is. Maybe that's not quite the right phrasing. I haven't felt the need to gorge myself to the degree that is usual. Funny, isn't it? More physical activity == less fuel requirement? How can that work? (And don't tell me it was the alcohol, because I only had 2 beers that one night.)

Here's my theory: The body has, more or less, switched modes. It's gone from an imperative of "gather and store as much reserve energy as possible" to "intake what is needed to fuel standard operations, and burn reserve if necessary". I'm not precisely certain how it all works, but I won't complain.

As if I hadn't typed enough "content" tonight already, there's one more topic that's not as easy to go into. I don't like it. I generally avoid discussing it here. For years, I kept it entirely out of these writings, until a critical period brought it out into the open. Afterward, I let it gradually fade into the background. But now, this subject merits some attention again.

For those just joining us, many years ago, Bitscape was diagnosed with what the psychiatric community commonly refers to as "manic depression" or "bipolar disorder". To summarize in a ridiculously oversimplified manner, it is a condition characterized by extreme mood swings, both high and low, and can spiral out of control in either direction, with disasterous results. Want to learn more? Google it. You know how.

Why do I bring this up now, and why here? Because I am my own worst enemy. That's why.

I've been around myself long enough to know the signs. I can feel them, poking around inside the corners of my thought patterns. Almost like a sixth sense, developed with experience. It cannot be explained to someone who has not experienced it for themself. I am not in the danger zone right now, but I am near enough to know that with a few false steps, I could be.

It has been 6 months since I last talked to a doctor. When I moved out of Louisville, they said they could not keep me as a patient there. Nevermind that I had insurance, money to cover the copay, and no objection to driving there. Since it's partially a state/county funded operation, there is some sort of incomprehensible regulation regarding the locale of people who can be patients.

The last time I talked to the doctor, it was his opinion that as long as I continued to feel ok, the only reason I would need to see a medical practitioner would be to renew the prescription when it ran out. He even suggested that I find a "regular family doctor" who would be willing to sign his name on a piece of paper so I could continue to get what I had been getting.

Again, I ask myself, why am I saying this here? I must be a glutton for full disclosure.

I have not seen a doctor since. I have medicine. I have lots of medicine. It's called mini-doses. Just enough to keep my mind from rocketing to the moon and dive-bombing into total oblivion, but still allow some real emotional highs and lows. I can feel great, and I can feel shitty (but still functional). Sometimes, it requires willpower.

I have no intention of altering this behavior. I know that someone I once referred to as "mentor" would probably be infuriated right about now. But it works for me. My life.

Lately, I've trimmed the doses down to being virtually nil. In the interest of my own safety, it's time to step it back up again for a while. Gently tap on the brakes. I am near enough to the edge. No need to see how close I can get before something crashes.

Hmmmm.... Do I want to say anything else on this right now? Watch A Beautiful Mind. Heh. It ain't about manic depression, but... it's close enough.

I have now spent a total of nearly 4 hours typing "content" tonight. That's quite enough.

Anyone who wants to read about Buffy can stick around to see the stuff I wrote earlier. But me? I'm gonna get a brief bit of exercise, perhaps fresh air, and a little more music before bed.

P.S. Doh! Forgot about those leg muscles. Maybe I'll endure anyway though. Heh. :)

---

SPOILERIFIC Buffy stuff below

Disturbing? The topic of rape (or attempted rape), and portrayal of such, is almost always inherently disturbing, no matter the context, at least to me. Strange, isn't it? It's easy to watch fictional portrayls of people fight, stab, main, and kill without being bothered much by it. (Well, maybe I'm conditioned to be desensitized to that sort of violence, along with most of America, but still...)

Rape is different. There is just something within the core of the soul that screams in protest upon witnessing that particular type of invasion. (I suspect Jaeger and I share this view, based on the fact that movies we would mutually classify as "disturbing" almost invariably contain potrayals of it. Getting slightly offtopic, I saw Strange Days years ago on VHS. A good movie in a lot of respects. It did contain some disturbing scenes.)

So, with regard to tonight's Buffy... Over the years, the show has made a science out of taking the typical real life concerns and struggles of teenagers (and later, young adults), mixing them up with seemingly ludicrous supernatural gobbledygook, and spinning it all together into a surprisingly poignant drama about life in Sunnydale.

Yes, I consider it distrurbing to see the longtime heroine grappling helplessly on the bathroom floor, her already-sore back further damaged by the impact of being shoved against the cold, hard bathtub. Then, I watched in disbelief as Spike, the once-villainous but now de-fanged vampire with whom the audience had gradually come to sympathize, proceeded to do the unthinkable. Having professed his undying "love" for Buffy (which appeared genuine enough) until just moments prior, he proceeded to force himself on the girl as she wreathed in pain.

Cut to commercial.

Fortunately (both in terms of making the audience "feel good", and for story consistency's sake), it was only an attempted rape. Buffy, being the superhero, was able to muster enough superhuman strength to fend away the attacker, despite the injury which had temporarily demobilized her.

As for Spike, he is one f--d up dude. No kidding.

Though I am a fervent believer in artistic expression to the extreme -- any and all aspects of the human condition are fair game, a part of me can't help but be a bit unnerved. In this case, the show was clearly not advocating rape for pleasure; it was portraying the brutal act in all its devastating hideousness. But where does one draw the line? At what point does it become a world where everyone tunes in for the "fun" of watching a human being get tortuned? (I'm not talking about friendly S&M fantasies, but genuine human suffering.)

Back in the day, I know the Xena show got lots of flack from fans over similar issues. (Many would have argued that it was not the fact that the portrayals of such disturbing events existed, but the allegedly hamhanded handling of it by the producers of the show.) It's a sensitive topic, for sure. Is it artisticly courageous, or cynically opportunistic of those behind the screen to be putting it on for the masses? I dunno.

(Totally offtopic sidenote: For some thought provoking words that really blur the line between the "all in good dark fantasy fun" and "so revolting this stuff should be banned", check out klancy7's fanfic. NOT for the squeamish.

I ask myself, why am I posting this link? Nobody who reads this page reads Xena fanfic at all, much less the shadier varieties of it. Hell, I don't even read Xena fanfic these days. Haven't for a long, long time. Ok, so don't read the fanfic. Just read the page intro. It's thought provoking, short, and makes a very succinct statement on the topic at hand. Thank you.)

Wait! Not done with the Buffy topic yet!

We get to the ending of the episode. Things are starting to wrap up, at least as much as can be expected in such a serialized format. The audience breathes easy.

Totally out of the blue, around the corner comes whats-his-face, pulls out a gun, points it at Buffy while she is talking with Xander in the yard, and BOOM. Blood splatters. Inside the house, on Willow? Through the window? Who was hit? Xander? Buffy? Confusion ensues.

Buffy was hit. But it's only a wound. She'll recover. But wait. Back to Willow and Tara. On the floor lies Tara. The bullet went straight through her chest. (Magic bullet theory?)

Oh no. Willow has had enough. Things were just starting to go really good for her again. And Tara is... dead?!?

Final shot. Pan back to Willow's eyes, as they turn black. The fire of the addictive magic, from which she had worked so hard to free herself, coursed through her veins.

End credit.

Nooooo, I can't take it anymore! Cruel, Joss. Utterly cruel. The man is a sadist, I swear. But, there is no doubt about it. I'll be tuning in next week.