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Smallville - The Complete Second Season
By Tom Welling, Kristin Kreuk, Michael Rosenbaum, Allison Mack, Sam Jones III, Eric Johnson, John Glover, Jensen Ackles, Erica Durance, Annette O'Toole, John Schneider
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I realize I'm late jumping onto this bandwagon, but I Love "Smallville." I absolutely adore it. I just now ended Season One (will start Season Two tonight), so I have no idea how the following things will change, but so far I can't get enough of Clark's goofy in-love-with-Lana grins and Chloe's cynical phrases and Lex's charm/genius. It all sucks me right in. All the double-meanings and foreshadowing and plays on words ... intelligent, cute, beautiful, sad. All wrapped up in Smallville, Kansas, home of lots of corn.
Meanwhile, my heart is breaking. My heart is breaking over Lex Luthor, the poor I Want to Be a Good Guy But I Never Stood a Chance, brilliant mastermind. Every time he does something good -- and every time he turns a philosophical phrase -- little tears store up inside my eyes, and when I view that "Smallville" episode where he has completely gone to the dark side, I will mourn. I will cry, and I imagine I will cry for a very long time. I don't know how many tears are stored up, but it's already a lot, and hopefully I have a few more seasons to store them. They will rain on Smallville, a token of my often-foolish compassion.
Till then, I leave you with these Lex quotations from Season One:
- There's nothing wrong with a good fight. Just remember: "The man of tomorrow is forged by his battles today."
- [to Clark] All my father ever told me was "don't get caught" and "don't cause a scandal." That's not love, it's public relations. You have no idea how lucky you are. When my father dies, kings will come to his funeral. But when yours does, his friends will come.
- It's a foil, Clark. Every hero should have one.
- I'm just interested in people who ruled the world before they were 30.
- Life's a journey, Clark; I don't wanna go through it following a roadmap.
- You see, I don't want to do good things. I want to do great things.
- I don't care about the past. I believe in the power to re-invent yourself.
- You can learn a lot from someone you hate.
- Relax. Failing isn't something I do.
- I look forward to resuming our verbal judo.
- Look at the stars, Clark. Some of them have been extinguished for thousands of years, but their light is only reaching us now. The past is always influencing the present. I can't change that. All I can do is try to understand it.
- The truth is, I'd do anything to protect my friends.
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| My boyfriend, Kyle, loves to rant and complain and broadcast his opinions with lots of ranting and complaining. These tirades are funny -- mainly because you have a very perturbed, angry person boiling about things like referees/NASCAR, and he gets more worked up with every word -- and awe-inducing, because you wonder how a person can be so angry and so creative at the same time. Because, essentially, they are very creative. He is good with analogies.
Anyway, all that to say: Go to his first-ever blog at his MySpace, myspace.com/sportssection, and read his stuff so he'll have a readership and write more. | | |
| My newborn-baby experience is a tiny bit limited, but this weekend I finally experienced the Wonder of the Baby. Kyle's brother and sister-in-law had their first child, the cutest baby in the world, Clark, and I was amazed.
This is probably a not-very-girly confession, but babies, sure, have sometimes been cute, but I've never been MESMERIZED by one. It finally registered that the little babe was a real-life combination of Mom and Dad. The little guy will grow into a big guy. Miraculous. (I imagine that the only profundity any of you are experiencing right now is the fact that I have only recently recognized this pretty-well-known fact. Your disgust/amazement toward me is understood.)
Anyway, babies are enchanting, and not scary. Whoduthunk? | | |
| 1. First, here is Kyle's heckling story. He had the main Sports package on Sunday, and it was all about heckling. And, if you know Kyle at all, you know he loves to heckle. Anyway, the format of this story online isn't that great, but the printed version has his story and two sidebars that included his own "rules of heckling" and "types of hecklers." These extras are sloppily tacked onto the end of this online story, but hopefully you can figure out where the real story ends and those sidebars begin. Yay.
2. Although I'm not really into MySpace, I of course felt out of the loop, so I started one: myspace.com/amyamie. Kyle started one, too: myspace.com/sportssection.
3. Unfortunately, I think this blog is going to contain a lot of posts about running since marathon training has officially begun. Yesterday, Kyle, Flush and I ran our first weekend long run. Our schedule said we were supposed to do seven miles, but we decided right away that we were only going to do five. So we spent a half-hour driving around and getting a 5-mile loop, but that failed, so we decided on doing two 2.5-mile loops. A strange thing happens when I run, and that's the Numbing of the Right Foot. The stupid thing goes numb. I have a strange gait, and I over-pronate, so I attribute the Numbing to that. I started the run off s-l-o-w. So slow. I felt bad, because it's getting dark, so Kyle won't run off and leave me on his own pace. I'm hating my life.
Then, around Mile 3, a strange thing happens. My foot isn't numb anymore. My legs are striding a little faster, and I don't feel like a clod. I'm tired, but I'm in a rhythm. A pleasant rhythm. Running finally became ... refreshing. Kinda fun. So we end our five miles, and I look at Kyle and yell "Seven!" So we and the dog head off to make seven miles, my longest-ever run. At about Mile 6, as we're heading back to my apartment, I look at Kyle and say: "I think I'm going to be able to do this." "This" being "marathon." Weird. | | |
| While my good friend Jennifer is out running around Europe with her boyfriend, Camilo, I was at Wild River Country with Kyle and his brother Cody and Cody's wife, Elise, who visited us for the weekend. I had the BEST time and can't think of really anything that's better than slip-sliding fun and the wave pool. Except maybe traveling to Switzerland and Spain and going white-water rafting. Not that I've done any of those things, but I've always wanted to be a white-water-rafting guide.
What is a lot LESS fun than Wild River Country and the after-park snow-cone: running. I've written about running before, but that was after the relay marathon, and I only had to live in agony for 6 miles, and I was on this I-got-a-lot-of-free-stuff-at-the-expo high. I was probably drinking an energy drink that I had made from one of the free drink mixes. But now, I have reached a higher level of stupidity and gumption: Yesterday Kyle and I began our training schedule for Dec. 2's St. Jude Memphis Marathon. I ran 3 miles in a painfully slow 30 minutes, but today I feel pleasantly sore. This weekend, when we're supposed to run 7 miles and when we're only going to run 5 miles, I will feel like running straight to the loony bin. Because, when it comes down to it, running is not my thing. I'm not a gazelle; I'm not a small, swift antelope. I'm a pronating mammoth. I found out that I over-pronate -- turning and rotating the foot so that the inner edge of the sole bears the body's weight -- yesterday when I went to Easy Runner and got fitted for thousand-dollar shoes. I could've guessed that I pronate, since I was born with the flattering combination of pigeon toes and bow legs. That's why I bumble around in heels.
I about threw in the sweaty towel yesterday as I plodded down the sidewalk: "I can't run; I can't run; I can't run 26.2 miles." At least that ditty kept me in a steady rhythm. But when I told Kyle about my pessimism as we returned to my apartment, he told me that I really CAN do it, and I guess he's right.
So here it goes. Here's to better health, shin splints and wheezing. | | |
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