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Shameless Self-Promotion and Some Closure
So, if anyone likes my fanfic, you should be reading Growing. I’ve been working on it forever since I didn’t want to start posting it before I had the whole thing written out as a draft so I could avoid plot inconsistencies. It’s a Neville centric story with secondary leads of Andromeda, Ted and Tonks and it’s pretty much going to be the only thing I will be focusing on for the next few months and while you may complain it’s boring now, I promise of action (of the violence kind, this is Gen) before the fifth chapter. Yes, I am shamelessly plugging myself.
Also, my first fandom, The West Wing, will be airing its last episode in the states in the next day and I decided I needed some closure. As a result we have:-
An Ode to the West Wing
I remember watching TV one night and the West Wing came on, initially I flinched at the opening credits; excessive US flag waving will do that to many who live outside the US. Watching on, it was about a weekend in which the US President had to decide whether to give a man on death row a pardon or not, in the end he died and the President, wreaked with guilt confessed his sins to his family priest in the middle of the Oval Office. Now, me being me, I hated this. I’m very much against the death penalty and wanted this mans life to be spared so I refused to watch the next episode.
Then, on came a promo in which all the characters that I had found endearing got shot at in an attempted assassination. I watched In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, and never turned back. I would wait in anticipation on Thursdays to here what my favourite characters had been up too on the show in the US. It made my cry, but far more often it made me laugh. I idolized CJ Cregg, a woman who showed me that you can be both a successful and compassionate and witty, I nearly memorised some of Toby’s rants. I taped the second season finale and watched the ‘Brothers in Arms’ segment over and over again until I thought I was going to ruin the tape.
Aaron Sorkin taught me what excellent writing is and how brilliant TV could be. My fifteen-year-old mind took this programme in, hanging on every characters word. I realised that it’s all right to be a geek and that having an idealistic goal of how the world could be is not something to be ashamed of, Jed Bartlet and Sam taught me that.
However I was ashamed of being obsessed with a TV programme, I would hide my Internet involvement by having hotmail open in another window. When I forked out my savings on the first season video set at sixteen I hid them from my father, waking up at 5am in the morning to watch an episode before I had to get ready for school (bus pupil: the hours were crappy).
9/11 happened and I watched the progress of Isaac and Ishmael from a computer while monitoring the progress of the War on Terror from the newspaper. I stuck with the show during the season three slump; when we thought that it had jumped the shark. I screamed with indignity when Rob Lowe announced he was leaving.
And then season four happened, and I was seventeen by this point and having to hang around in my hall of residence common room for a hour before the show started to prevent the tutors from locking the doors since it was on so late on a Monday evening. The West Wing was escapism. I was a first year student, the War in Iraq had happened even though we did not want it too and everybody was angry. It represented the world we did not have and I clung to it. I was blown away again by the last five episodes, some of the most powerful television moments I have ever seen (watch Commencement and you will know what I mean). I cried when I found out that Sorkin quit and wrote a flick to Don’t Dream It’s Over about it.
Season five was moved to late on a Saturday night, I was eighteen, turning nineteen and I struggled to tune in when parties were going on around me, often disappearing for an hour while getting ready to go out. I watched more than one episode of season five drunk. But it was not the same, I no longer new the names of episodes off by heart, other things in life occupied me. Here was I, the girl who would once turn up the TV and sit next to it so not to miss anything, and now I was watching this show so drunk I could barely hold my head up. Things had changed.
Then last year, a few months into me being twenty, season six started. It was now on just before midnight on a Monday. That year I had been disconnected from the Internet, so my Internet involvement abruptly stopped. I would still stay up late to watch the show, but so much else of TV was grabbing my attention more. Eventually over the summer I stopped watching. It was on too late, I needed my sleep to get to work the next day and no longer had the passion to videotape it excessively. I mourned the loss of John Spencer who had been the loyal, hard-working Leo an man you could not help but love, but it took me more than a day to find out about his death.
This year I’ve been keeping an eye on developments, my OTP, CJ/Toby, was sunk, Santos won the election and in the US the final episode is about to air.
I grew up watching the West Wing. Jed, Leo, CJ, Josh, Sam, Donna, Toby and Charlie influenced the person that I have become. But at the same time, I grew away from it. Goodbye old friend, there has been some wonderful times and I will always remember your heyday.
"There are so many days here where you can't imagine that anything good will ever happen,...You're buried under a black fog of partisanship and self-promotion and stupidity...And a brand of politics that's just plain mean,. . .tonight I've seen a man with no legs stay standing. . . and a guy with no voice keep shouting. And if politics brings out the worst in people, maybe people bring out the best."
What's next?
~*~*~*~
Yep, when I was fifteen I was obsessed with a show about politics. Now at twenty I’m obsessed with books written about kids. I think I’m growing down.
Also, my first fandom, The West Wing, will be airing its last episode in the states in the next day and I decided I needed some closure. As a result we have:-
An Ode to the West Wing
I remember watching TV one night and the West Wing came on, initially I flinched at the opening credits; excessive US flag waving will do that to many who live outside the US. Watching on, it was about a weekend in which the US President had to decide whether to give a man on death row a pardon or not, in the end he died and the President, wreaked with guilt confessed his sins to his family priest in the middle of the Oval Office. Now, me being me, I hated this. I’m very much against the death penalty and wanted this mans life to be spared so I refused to watch the next episode.
Then, on came a promo in which all the characters that I had found endearing got shot at in an attempted assassination. I watched In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, and never turned back. I would wait in anticipation on Thursdays to here what my favourite characters had been up too on the show in the US. It made my cry, but far more often it made me laugh. I idolized CJ Cregg, a woman who showed me that you can be both a successful and compassionate and witty, I nearly memorised some of Toby’s rants. I taped the second season finale and watched the ‘Brothers in Arms’ segment over and over again until I thought I was going to ruin the tape.
Aaron Sorkin taught me what excellent writing is and how brilliant TV could be. My fifteen-year-old mind took this programme in, hanging on every characters word. I realised that it’s all right to be a geek and that having an idealistic goal of how the world could be is not something to be ashamed of, Jed Bartlet and Sam taught me that.
However I was ashamed of being obsessed with a TV programme, I would hide my Internet involvement by having hotmail open in another window. When I forked out my savings on the first season video set at sixteen I hid them from my father, waking up at 5am in the morning to watch an episode before I had to get ready for school (bus pupil: the hours were crappy).
9/11 happened and I watched the progress of Isaac and Ishmael from a computer while monitoring the progress of the War on Terror from the newspaper. I stuck with the show during the season three slump; when we thought that it had jumped the shark. I screamed with indignity when Rob Lowe announced he was leaving.
And then season four happened, and I was seventeen by this point and having to hang around in my hall of residence common room for a hour before the show started to prevent the tutors from locking the doors since it was on so late on a Monday evening. The West Wing was escapism. I was a first year student, the War in Iraq had happened even though we did not want it too and everybody was angry. It represented the world we did not have and I clung to it. I was blown away again by the last five episodes, some of the most powerful television moments I have ever seen (watch Commencement and you will know what I mean). I cried when I found out that Sorkin quit and wrote a flick to Don’t Dream It’s Over about it.
Season five was moved to late on a Saturday night, I was eighteen, turning nineteen and I struggled to tune in when parties were going on around me, often disappearing for an hour while getting ready to go out. I watched more than one episode of season five drunk. But it was not the same, I no longer new the names of episodes off by heart, other things in life occupied me. Here was I, the girl who would once turn up the TV and sit next to it so not to miss anything, and now I was watching this show so drunk I could barely hold my head up. Things had changed.
Then last year, a few months into me being twenty, season six started. It was now on just before midnight on a Monday. That year I had been disconnected from the Internet, so my Internet involvement abruptly stopped. I would still stay up late to watch the show, but so much else of TV was grabbing my attention more. Eventually over the summer I stopped watching. It was on too late, I needed my sleep to get to work the next day and no longer had the passion to videotape it excessively. I mourned the loss of John Spencer who had been the loyal, hard-working Leo an man you could not help but love, but it took me more than a day to find out about his death.
This year I’ve been keeping an eye on developments, my OTP, CJ/Toby, was sunk, Santos won the election and in the US the final episode is about to air.
I grew up watching the West Wing. Jed, Leo, CJ, Josh, Sam, Donna, Toby and Charlie influenced the person that I have become. But at the same time, I grew away from it. Goodbye old friend, there has been some wonderful times and I will always remember your heyday.
"There are so many days here where you can't imagine that anything good will ever happen,...You're buried under a black fog of partisanship and self-promotion and stupidity...And a brand of politics that's just plain mean,. . .tonight I've seen a man with no legs stay standing. . . and a guy with no voice keep shouting. And if politics brings out the worst in people, maybe people bring out the best."
What's next?
Yep, when I was fifteen I was obsessed with a show about politics. Now at twenty I’m obsessed with books written about kids. I think I’m growing down.