the Dalaverse

I woke up feeling...I don't even know, today. Feeling too much of something. Went to the gym, almost fell to pieces in the car over pretty much nothing, so I figured I'd hop on the treadmill and see if it made me feel better. I ran a solid two and a quarter miles and felt better physically, but not so much overall, so I called in sick to work. It's a mental health day and I don't feel guilty about it.

Since I was already on the verge of tears, I decided to finally watch the last two episodes of "Friday Night Lights." They've been sitting on my hard drive since, oh let's see, February, but I wasn't ready for it to be over. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to Tami Taylor and Matt Saracen and Tim Riggins and Vince Howard and Tyra Collette and freakin' Buddy Garritty. Today I did and I think it helped pull me through a bad day. And half a box of tissues. I am not exaggerating even a little bit.

There's a lot of television out there, but not a lot of it can be called art. "Friday Night Lights" is art. And the final brushstroke was perfect.