At four o’clock this morning – after hours of hoping Blogger had resolved its maintenance issues – I decided to reward myself with a little TV time. This AM’s lineup? Batman Beyond and Daria. I’ve always loved cartoons. One of my animator friends thinks I know more about them than he does. (Or maybe he’s just trying to be nice.)
From the original Transformers to Looney Tunes to a few new shows, I can barely contain my childlike enthusiasm. I’ve always been a sucker for colorful or shiny things. Some of my favorite animated films – Finding Nemo (Dory drove my mother crazy.), The Incredibles, The Iron Giant, Tangled – make me feel as much as their live-action counterparts (and sometimes more).
Lately, I’ve been watching a lot of sports in my free time. But, my Sixers are out. And my Flyers are also done for the season. There’s always the French Open. But, that won’t start for almost two weeks. I’ll have to prepare for the schedule by staying up really late. (Okay, there we go. Done. On to the next challenge.)
Cartoons transport me to a place where the impossible’s possible. Good usually conquers evil. Characters survive fatal falls and explosions. And laughter is almost guaranteed – depending on the show or film, of course. (See: Animal Farm or Watership Down for non-laughing examples. Don't let the box covers fool you.)
I resist the urge to quote all the lines and sing the songs. No matter how much fun it would be for me, I know how annoying that would probably be for my company. Luckily, I have none this morning. Along with the part of my brain that registers embarrassment and dictates acceptable/mature behavior, they’re both nowhere in sight.
I’ve only been a toon once. (Check under Voice-overs.) And it was glorious – hearing my voice come from a little girl who looked nothing like me. Finally, my inner nine-year-old was released. And her cartwheels invited praise instead of inducing impatience and nausea. I’ll have to do it again. (Note to self: next time, demand the character look just like me and also do somersaults.)
So, in a way I wish real life were more like the animated world – safe, where everyone gets along or problems can be easily cleared up with laughter or a sigh of appreciation for whatever heartwarming message was shared. (I'm talking Pixar not anime. Drama - jokes/fun - peril/adventure - resolution/more fun. Give or take. Not that those stories are ever predictable.)
I love happy endings. (Not the TV show or the kind that can land you in jail.) I tend to write them – realistically, in my opinion – when I can. But, I guess all’s not truly hunky-dory in a world where an artist can suddenly drop an anvil on your head for kicks.
Luckily, the recovery time seems pretty quick. And when I can get the script in advance, I won't waste time flat-ironing my hair.