One more frame

Full disclosure: I do love critical theory.  It's pretty nerdy, and something I once tried to indulge with a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature. 

But the application of critical theory while a grad student was a rather empty exercise for me.  I mean, it's entertaining when you're the instructor, talking through the basics with your classroom full of fresh-faced undergraduates ["Let's apply Marxist theory to the fairy tales of Hans Christian Anderson!" (I realize that the 'fun' in this situation is not totally transparent, but suffice to say - it's just so fucking ridiculous and immediately accessible that even the most tuned-out bro in the back of the classroom gets into the spirit and will offer up a vague defense of capitalist structures)].

But literary theory with a bunch of other book nerds going for their Ph.Ds?  EURGHGH, as the Walkers would say.  It's silly!  People all like, showing off their ability to memorize obscure passages and shit.  And 'revelations' are always being made about what Sartre meant by his treatment of Las Meninas.  These revelations mostly only impress the the student who discovered them, who may one day write them into a dissertation that no one will ever read, which could theoretically be published in a JSTOR journal 99% of the world can't afford to access, and so on.  The entire point of the system is so that the smart kid from your English class can make a triumphant entrance at your 20th high school reunion.

So anyway, I clearly left all that behind (not the debt part, unfortunately) and am now a Normal Person with No Outlet for Interests like Critical Theory.

So I'm not going to make any promises to myself.  Hell, if I return to this blog after today, ever, it'll be a miracle (poor blogging track record; must confess that I find the genre perplexing and narcissistic).

But maybe, just maybe, I can wiggle some in as I discuss episodes!

Because here's my vision (it's already 7:15 am?):  since I keep re-watching all these stupid "Walking Dead" episodes anyway, and seriously thinking about these silly things in an overly critical way, then heck.  Let's just write it down. 

P.S., I've always been predisposed to obsessive entertainment watching.  It probably began with "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" or "The Three Amigos"; I forget which came first.  The "Star Wars" trilogy, and all the Indiana Jones movies (the real ones, I mean, 1-3) also qualified.  If only I could turn this compulsion towards books!  I occasionally feel ashamed that I enjoy films and episodic television so much, mostly due to a self-conscious perception that if I were really intelligent, I'd only devote such attention to books.  But then, that's only the kind of privileged, narrow prejudice that one encounters among the most insecure book nerds.