Buffy

Sunday morning I went to pick up Ella from a sleepover, leaving enough time to visit with her friend's mom, Teri, who I'd befriended this summer. She's a really dynamic woman, whatever that means, really. She's keeps a purple streak in her honey colored hair ~ to keep her connected to the divine, I think. She sells essential oils on the side and her scope of knowledge of how scents heal is pretty astounding. After twenty minutes at her kitchen table I concluded that I really don't like the smell of ylang ylang. I learned what oils aid in brain power, stress relief, sexual function. I smelled a $100 bottle of sandalwood.

The sun was in the sky, glaring off the snow and the girls spent the duration of our visit out there in their snow clothes climbing mounds, disapearing in and out of poplars and birches, being beautiful.

I somehow left there with the first disc of the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don't know how, really. It just kind of organically happened. I gave up watching television in 1992 and what I see of it now comes via Netflix. Old episodes of Punky Brewster, IMAX movies to watch with Ella, lots of independent (and some not so independent) movies. We went through the Six Feet Under series like junkies, willing to give up just about anything for just one more episode.
But never has it occurred to me to take on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The few fans that I do know are serious about it. Devoted. Die-hards. I guess Joss Whedon, the creator, has got a following.

Teri has been telling me about this series since we met in the summer. Her daughter talks emphatically about it. About the shadow world and the archetypes present within the show. I guess it makes for some great, productive, insightful conversation in their household. The only glitch for me is that I'm terrified of vampires. When I have nightmares they tend to be apocolyptic, not about monsters or demons and while I've only had less than a handful of nightmares about vampires, they've stuck to me like burdock brambles. Have you ever watched a billy goat chewing peanut butter? Like, that stuck.

So we signed on for episode 1 last night before bedtime (note: don't watch vampire flicks with nine year olds before bedtime on a school night). I just don't know. I can see the archetype thing, I think I'm even willing to see this first disc through, but I aint sold. Like, why did they have to name her Buffy? And why are their skirts so short? And why do the high school girls look they could have graduated with me in 1992? Crows feet, for god's sake.

I appreciate putting a female in the lead as the superhero against vampires. I think back in the 90's, or whenever it came out, that was a fairly revolutionary idea, and I think stuff like that can have it's positive effects as it ripples through commercial media culture. But when, within the first ten minutes of the show, Buffy stands in front of her mirror trying to figure out what dress she's going to wear for the evening and holds up the slinky black one and grunts, "slutwear", I don't know. Ella doesn't even know what a slut is. How do you explain that one?

We'll see. I'll have another report after Episode 2. When we left off, Buffy had been pummelled into a stone casket in the dark of a graveyard, the prince vampire's key assistant pouncing down. to be continued.....


or not.