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penumbren , dear friend. We are so so terribly doomed. *multiple headdesks* 
Witty Things to say to Mssrs. Shatner and Nimoy:
"I just loved you in Empire Strikes Back!"
"Mr. Shatner, you haven't aged a day. You've aged a few thousand weeks, but not one single day."
"What's all this fuss about? Wow! Are you guys like famous or something?"
"Bill! Lenny! Long time no see! Let's grab a beer."
"So. What other Vulcan trick-pinches ya got?"
"Wow. Set Phasers to Stunning."
"Can I get your autograph? Bill, you sign Lenny's picture, Lenny you sign Bill's. Wacky fun."
"You know, I don't think the Aztec Gods could gather this many virgins in one place. Well done."
ROTF. Brilliant. Just awesome.
Oh, and I might get to meet Matt Hardy on Sunday, if I can pull it off! SQUEEEE!!! Unfortunately, he won't be looking like he does in my icon..but a girl can dream, can't she?!?!
Alright, enough fangirling. If I get a chance, I'll write a long-ass blog reviewing my thoughts on last nights House Season 3 opener. House fans on my flist, what did you think?
So, today I travel to Philly. Pretty cool considering I like the train. I'm planning on cutting out early today to head to Union and perhaps get some shoe shopping in before my 4pm. Considering I'm doing nothing more constructive at work than teaching myself German and playing waay too many rousing games of Spider Solitaire, I think leaving early would be a good thing.
I'm strangely nervous about taking a cab. I have no idea why except that its been years since I've been forced to catch one. I guess its the stress of having to stick out your hand, leg, whatever and pray that some poor cabbie is going to pull over. Strangely tense way to travel, I feel. I also have to remember to get itemized receipts of EVERYTHING so I can get refunded for the 9 days I'm spending up here. Crazy.
I've also heard conflicting reports of how this convention is going to be; there are those who are trying to poison my mind with the amount of work, inter-office/officer drama, and the like while others talk to me of nights out on the town with cool coworkers, karaoke, and much much booze. I know it makes me sound like a total alcoholic, but they better be right with the booze.
Other random thoughts before I ride off into the Philadelphia sunset:
phantom_hpuff but baseball just doesn't do it for me like it used to. Hell, even football doesn't do it for me anymore. Perhaps its all the scandal surrounding excessive juicing in the Major Leagues. Or perhaps its A-Rod's ridiculous salary. For whatever reason, its just not there for me no matter the combined hotness of the younger players on the Mets. I'd give anything to be able to see Dirk's games in Germany against Canada or against China coming up this next week. Good luck baby!! Whooo!!Ok, I think that's a pretty good update. I may have intarweb access when I get to Philly and if so, I'll let you all know the craziness that is a convention with over 3000 postal workers attending from all over the US.
**Random Update** HO man, Fencest breakups are really bad sometimes; it sucks worse when you're friends with them both. theevilearl, I'm sorry things are going so nuts. Is there anything I can do?
mrs_spockmrs_spock's comment: "I'd like to talk to him about his, um, blaster." I dunno about you, but I take my nerf herders scruffy... In those soft grey moments of nothingness that occasionally come before us, do you ever sit back and mourn the loss of people you've never met?
I had a similar moment today. While watching a particularly poignant episode of Star Trek: DS9, I thought about how much I missed a member of another Star Trek cast: Deforrest Kelley. It seemed strange to me that I should feel such an overwhelming grief at the loss of this wonderful actor and charming man. Even stranger, I had just lost a great-grandmother this past weekend at the ripe old age of 101. Am I sad at her passing? Yes, very much so. But I wasn't as close to her as I was to other members of the family who have since passed on. Yet, I recognize that my sense of loss for "Bones" McCoy feels stronger and deeper than a member of my own family. Am I slightly unsettled by this? You betcha.
Is this merely an unhealthy obsession with celebrity? Or is it something deeper? In all honesty, I saw more of Bones McCoy in my life than I did this great-grandmother, who lived in Georgia, and to my recollection, only visited us in MD once or twice during all that time. As for McCoy, I grew up with him. Fictional character or no, he was a beloved childhood friend, a companion during sick days, sunny days, and long, blanket-wrapped, cocoa-filled nights. He kept me laughing, crying, arguing along with him and I still believe I haven't quite accepted the death of the wonderful actor that gave him life.
Other actors who I truly miss include: Mark Lenard, who played Sarek, Spock's father; Phil Hartman, a brilliant comedian whose death was so damn senseless; Christopher Reeve, who shall be forever enshrined as Superman in the hearts of a nation; River Phoenix, who lived life too fast , died young, and left a beautiful corpse; and Jonathan Brandis, who played lots of wonderful roles before committing suicide. Its strange that at that moment, I edited myself, couching my language in pleasant, disguising euphemism rather than admitting to or revealing the horrid truth of his death. I guess I'm protective of him; I thought he was a great actor and well, I had a huge crush on him when he was on Seaquest. His death in particular still affects me because it was preventable. Why suicide? What was in his mind that drove him to end such a promising life? Did he not see the promise? Did he not know that there were those of us out there still cheering for him? Why? All death seems senseless and undignified, but when its by your own hand...when there are people out there who love you and support you...it leaves a stain. I rarely listen to Nirvana because of such a stain; they were once one of my favorite bands.
Perhaps "stain" is too coarse a word. Maybe I mean the deep dissatisfaction, the long-standing sorrow of those who are left behind, unable to answer the question: "Why?". For Phil, we have an answer: his wife was a psycho who should burn for killing him. For River, we have an answer; death is one of the many side effects of illegal drugs. For my Superman, we have an answer; his spirit had chosen its time to fly again. For Deforrest and Mark, we understand that we all live terminal lives, capped with the icing of old age but for Jonathan, twenty-seven was old age. I'm not far away from that myself. It just makes you think. And mourn. And rage at the dying of the light.
syntheid
