musings of a... lonely mom

Thanks to my son's random waving of the television remote, I rediscovered The X-Files recently, in re-runs on the SciFi channel.

I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. It kills an hour in the afternoon that I don't have to find creative ways to fill before my husband gets home and I finally have someone other than a toddler to talk to. But when the commercials it's sandwiched between are for male wet-dream movies, after-shave and "find your new career at (fill in the blank) institute" after an hour I start to feel like a slacker.

I got into The X-Files after it had been on for several seasons, when they were really hitting their stride. And I got married and found --ahem-- other things to do with my Friday nights toward the end of their run, so consequently I never saw the first or the last episodes. I guess that doesn't make me much of an x-phile; I don't even know what happened in the final episode. Some days I think I ought to buy the CD or find some place that rents it, just to satisfy my curiosity... but I haven't done it. Maybe I just need some unfinished business in my life.

I have to admit, my favorites were the mythology episodes and the really tongue-in-cheek stuff, like "Post-Modern Prometheus," "Small Potatoes," and "Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space.'" And I loved the low-key bravado of Scully and Mulder. There was a mythology trilogy re-run this week (cigarette smoking man must have been the best villain of the 90s) where in the concluding episode Skinner got to say something to the effect of "pay attention you smug son-of-a-bitch, because this is where you get to pucker up and kiss my ass." (I've always wanted to be able to say something like that with a straight face!) I worked on a show in New York that was contemporary to The X-Files, but the writing for it never thrilled me that way, even though it was about NYC detectives and they should have had some choice lines now and then, too. But then, that show was never funny, as I remember it... the plot line was usually just some really ugly story "ripped from the headlines." (Now you probably know who produced it.) Not that I could have written better, but I can appreciate it when I hear it.

I suspect that my rekindled romance with The X-Files will come to an end again in the spring, when it's a lot easier to get my kid outside without the boots, coat, hat and gloves that are required by a New England winter, and all the resulting resistance. And I doubt I'll be watching much television after the baby comes in June, when I'll have two kids to handle (and I hope I discover that I have the resources to deal with that eventuality). And once I feel I've regained some of my own sexuality maybe I won't need to live vicariously through the lives of two fictitious heroes. (The first pregnancy was exciting; the second is too long and less self-affirming. But that's another post.) So I may never see that final episode. But do me a favor and don't tell me about it... it's always out there if I need it.