![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
winteropheliaI hate finishing things. Works of fiction, to be precise. I suppose because that's their end, unlike a non-fiction book where life goes on for the writer, one would assume, since they had time to write the book and everything.
I got on the late train to Sunnydale and just finished all of Buffy after marathoning it for 3 weeks (thanks Netflix, I'm so glad we got my dad an account for Christmas). Now I'm all sad and shit, mostly because it's over. It's good that it stopped there and didn't drag on forever, because that would be worse. And now, if I ever go back and watch it all over again for some reason, it won't make me all sad again, unlike Firefly which breaks my heart every time I rewatch it all.
Keeping it in the Whedon family, for some reason Dollhouse was oddly satisfying. I would have been more than happy to have it keep going, but it ending where it did was nice and clean and satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I watched Dollhouse as it was on tv, and only marathoned the last few episodes later on. Maybe I just wasn't as attached to the characters, but I thought I was? I dunno.
I suppose the best judge of how I feel about shows ending after watching them on a weekly basis and becoming really attached would be BSG. Now, I'm one of those weirdos who liked fourth season and even liked most of the ending. That was, satisfying and completing, in many ways. So maybe the marathoning is the problem. Watching stuff as it unfolds for years leads to a more satisfying end. Poor Lee.
Maybe I'm just cranky because this means I'll stop have sweet saving the world while making out with James Marsters dreams. Oh well.
Maybe I need to stop focusing so much on scifi and fantasy. That being said, I'm going to go start watching Angel.
I got on the late train to Sunnydale and just finished all of Buffy after marathoning it for 3 weeks (thanks Netflix, I'm so glad we got my dad an account for Christmas). Now I'm all sad and shit, mostly because it's over. It's good that it stopped there and didn't drag on forever, because that would be worse. And now, if I ever go back and watch it all over again for some reason, it won't make me all sad again, unlike Firefly which breaks my heart every time I rewatch it all.
Keeping it in the Whedon family, for some reason Dollhouse was oddly satisfying. I would have been more than happy to have it keep going, but it ending where it did was nice and clean and satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I watched Dollhouse as it was on tv, and only marathoned the last few episodes later on. Maybe I just wasn't as attached to the characters, but I thought I was? I dunno.
I suppose the best judge of how I feel about shows ending after watching them on a weekly basis and becoming really attached would be BSG. Now, I'm one of those weirdos who liked fourth season and even liked most of the ending. That was, satisfying and completing, in many ways. So maybe the marathoning is the problem. Watching stuff as it unfolds for years leads to a more satisfying end. Poor Lee.
Maybe I'm just cranky because this means I'll stop have sweet saving the world while making out with James Marsters dreams. Oh well.
Maybe I need to stop focusing so much on scifi and fantasy. That being said, I'm going to go start watching Angel.
