I couldn’t sleep, as happens to me at least once a week, and that’s even with a combo of muscle relaxers and ambien. I finally gave up at 6am, got some cereal and looked to see if one of my two favourite shows was on: Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel.
A little back story: I watched Buffy when it premiered, I was 16, and my first girlfriend and I watched it together every week. We watched Angel too. It wasn’t until my current girlfriend that I saw Firefly, Serenity, Dollhouse, and Dr. Horribles Sing Along Blog.
And now? One of the things I love best about my girlfriend is her extra nerdyness. Mine had hidden inside for years, due to constant pressure that femmes weren’t nerdy. Bullshit, by the way.
We both are huge Joss Whedon fans, known as Whedonites. We watch movies that Joss Whedon known actors are in, just to watch them again. I’ve seen the awful unaired Buffy pilot. We own all the seasons to everything but Dollhouse- which is still on netflix if we feel so inclined. We both have twitter accounts that largely follow other Whedonites and actors from Joss Whedon projects. I even set up a daily game that is played on twitter called “6 Degrees of Joss Whedon”. We both can quote various shows off-hand as just normal conversation. Lastly, James Marsters singing “Let Me Rest in Peace” is the ringtone on my phone.
Does this make us obsessed? No. I can only say this because I’ve seen obsessed. I’ve seen twitter accounts that post paparazzi Alyson Denisof from her dentist’s office that sicken me. I’ve seen some of the most horrifying fan fiction in existence. (Side note: I’m not a real supporter of fan fiction, but I’ll explain that another time.) I do not need clothes, or props from any of the shows to keep as idols in little glass cases that I sit in worship over. I wouldn’t try to steal Sarah Michelle Gellars straw from her cup if she was at some restaurant I was also at. I would not attempt to clone her through DNA left on said straw. I have no Whedony tattoos anywhere, which is something that can border on obsession. I also spend a good part of time in reality, not wandering around in a Sunnydale set that lives in my brain like my own “Normal Again”episode daily.
I don’t know the point of bringing all this up. Perhaps its as my girlfriend and I meet more Whedonites, I can see those obsessed fans that actually scare us. I also feel sorry for the actors, directors, and everyone that obsession gets attached to, because that’s their privacy that being violated to feed into someones obsession. I don’t like the scared or angry looks on some celebrity’s face because a jerk is thrusting a camera at them, yelling obscenities, to try to get their attention and get a reaction.
These are the points you understand why Michael Jackson put masks on his kids. If they can’t even protect themselves, how can they protect their kids. When will this obsessive fandom boil over and those people we love to see lock themselves away because they’ve been broken? Authors and creators stop working because all the fan fiction created from their work, sent to them, begging them to change original plots, finally makes them give up?
I just want to love this silly globule of pop culture, and I’m worried it will be smashed.