I am so excited. I can’t even tell you. I can’t begin to express… I… I… Well, to fall back on an old one, but this time closer to true: I am so excited about Life I could wet myself.
And no, not my life. My life still consists of dodging seminar reading while quietly driving myself towards a nervous breakdown over my thesis and spending my meager amounts of money on beer and cheese sandwiches. Which is to say that my life remains that of a grad student.
I mean Life as in the show. As in the show by the same people, that BBC/Discovery Dream Team, who brought you Planet Earth, which in one stroke converted untold thousands of couch potatoes, pot heads, and drunk college kids into amateur naturalists. As in the show that made the suggestion of watching birds of paradise mate a perfectly acceptable way to end everything from dates to bachelor parties. The show that led to heated arguments in which people actually screamed things like “NO, Seasonal Forests kick ASS” and magnified my fear of underwater caves to a point of an irrational paranoia that I will somehow, with no explanation whatsoever, wake up in one.
Life premiers this weekend, and all I can say is bring it on. But if I were the headline writer at the New York Times, I would be way, way prouder of what I had to say about Life.