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Fic: Little White Ones
Title: Little White Ones
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Character: Tyra, mentions of Tim, Landry, Connor, others
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Just Season 1 (No spoilers for Season 2)
Summary: Lies Tyra Collette tells.
A/N: This is Tyra Season 1. Because I love her.
She gets a lot of practice, you see.
--
She tells everyone that she hates football.
Her first memory is Saturday afternoon college football with Dad. Still in her Carebears nightgown—Mama (and despite everything, Tyra will always, always think of her with that name a little girl gives her mother) didn’t make her change on Saturday—sitting on the floor at Daddy’s feet with five different kinds of cereal in colored plastic bowls on the coffee table and the TV on. They ate the cereal dry: Daddy washed his down with a beer while he ran his roughened fingers through her hair.
Longhorn football was Daddy’s passion, and Tyra breathed it from the time she was born. It was her special time with Daddy, the only part of their lives that they really shared as she grew up. He left for work before she woke up in the mornings and when he came home, long after the plate Mama had left out for him grew cold, he was too tired to do anything but fall into bed. Sundays for Daddy were sleeping late and then off to the lake.
But Saturdays were football and cereal and Daddy’s hand in her hair. He laughed at the commercials, and she laughed, too, even when she didn’t understand. Daddy cheered or groaned over plays and calls, and she did, too, even if the screen was just a confusing jumble of men in burnt orange who seemed to like to hurt anyone who wasn’t dressed like them.
Over time, she began to understand the rules of the game and the commercial’s jokes, but Daddy had less and less time for football and Tyra, and then he was gone altogether.
By that time, Tyra was old enough to realize there were two addictions Dillon had that were going to suck the town dry and break its spirit: oil and football.
She saw grown men who thought they owned the world because of a huge ugly ring on their fingers. She saw teenage boys crack under the weight of a whole town’s expectations. She saw families split apart by Dillon’s two passions.
She saw Daddy leave.
But Tyra still secretly loves football. It’s just too painful to watch.
--
She tells Mama she forgives her.
Mama’s daddy died when she was seven, and Tyra tells herself that that explains it, even if it doesn’t excuse it. Mama’s always had to have a man look at her like she’s beautiful, and Tyra knows this from the stories she heard growing up.
Your Daddy was the perfect gentleman, Mama would say with shining eyes. Brought me flowers and took me to
Daddy hadn’t had time to treat Mama like a princess for as long as Tyra could remember. He was too busy making sure they didn’t get evicted or have to eat canned chili for dinner for the tenth time in a row.
It started then. Mama flirting with the customers at work, with the bagger at the grocery store, even with the men at church (back then, the Colletes—except for Daddy—still went to church). Tyra’s pretty sure Mama never actually cheated on Daddy—she isn’t sure why she believes it; she’s just going with her gut on this one; maybe it’s wishful thinking—but it didn’t matter. Angela Collette needed appreciative glances, compliments, winks, like Daddy needed to work to think of himself as a man.
Tyra knew, and Tyra hated it, but Tyra could ignore it. At least until Buddy Garrity and having it thrown in her face, and there is no way she could deny it. It hurts, it feels like a betrayal of Daddy, even if he’s been gone for years and they haven’t heard from him in nearly that long. She should be able to push it away, but now it’s not some nameless man she’s thinking of her mother with—he has a name and a face and a wife, and Tyra will never be able to understand how her mother could do that to another woman.
For the first time since elementary school, Tyra sees a flash in Lyla’s eyes and for that one moment, they understand each other absolutely and there’s no judgment there (that only lasts for that moment, though, because history is just too heavy).
Tyra sticks up for her because she’s blood and that’s what you do for family and because she’s still grasping hold of the idea that someday they’ll be a real family again and Mama will look at her and see her.
But the after is the hardest part: watching Mama act like not having a man (again) is the worst thing that could ever happen to her (when her daughters are right there, and Mama pretended not to care when Daddy left).
And that’s what Tyra can’t forgive.
--
She tells Tim that she loves him.
It was easy to worship Tim Riggins.
He was a sweet boy, she remembers; that’s the cost of growing up in a small town where you know every single thing about everyone else. He and Jason Street tore through the neighborhood—this was when Tyra lived in Tim’s neighborhood, before Daddy left and they had to move—and got into typical little-boy trouble. But they usually got out of it again with angelic gap-toothed smiles. Tyra tagged along sometimes, scratched knees and messy pigtails, already taller than the boys and a complete tomboy. When Lyla visited, she played, too (because Lyla used to be Tyra’s best friend, before high school and hierarchies and hatred), though she didn’t want to get her dresses dirty—she’d get in trouble. They were all good kids, just mischievous and energetic, and that’s how the adults talked about them.
It was when Tim’s parents were suddenly gone that he changed. Late middle school, and she wouldn’t wish Billy’s guardianship on anyone. Fortunately (or unfortunately, she still hasn’t figured that one out yet) for him, at the same time he became sullen and rebellious, he also became hot.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, she still hasn’t figured that one out yet, either) for her, she became hot at the same time.
She wasn’t Tim’s first girlfriend—she made him chase her, on Mindy’s advice, and she’s still convinced that that’s the reason he stayed with her longer than any other girl.
Tim could be charming when he wanted to, when he actually broke out his smile (no longer gap-toothed), and he didn’t treat her all that badly (she tells herself), even if it was always all about him and never about her. The sex was fantastic (though it took him a whole lot longer than anyone really believes to get into her pants), and sometimes, just sometimes, he would let his guard down, be a bit vulnerable, let her take care of him like she wanted to (because he’s more screwed up than she is, with more abandonment issues, and she always wanted to soothe him, make it better).
Those are the times she tells him that she loves him. She really does wish it were the truth.
Still, she cares about him, about the little boy she remembers and knows is still in there somewhere. And it feels like a slap in her face when he lets her walk away, when she tells him it’s over for real and he just doesn’t care. Like those moments they shared mean nothing to him.
When the truth comes out about him and Lyla, the fact that she doesn’t love him doesn’t stop her from feeling betrayed.
--
She tells Connor she isn’t going to sleep with him.
She’s used to getting hit on at work. Leers and winks and big tips, even buttslaps sometimes, though no man has ever tried that twice. Work is exhausting , not because of the heavy trays or long hours, but because she has to fend off advances almost every night.
This guy isn’t really like that. He’s in a suit, for one thing, and not the Men’s Warehouse variety. Mindy watches What Not To Wear enough that Tyra knows that Clinton and Stacey would approve of this suit. But he looks a little like a little boy in one of daddy’s suits for the Homecoming dance or a funeral no one knew was coming.
It’s sort of endearing.
He flirts, a little bit, but it’s genuine, and he doesn’t look at her like a piece of meat. The guy probably has less experience in that arena than Tim does, but right now, that’s a good thing.
He looks like the rest of the world, a world without dust or Applebee’s or high school football, a world of traffic jams and deadlines and glamour. It isn’t love at first sight or anything close—it isn’t love at all, or even lust—at least not lust for his body. He’s cute, sure, but it isn’t him that she cares about. It’s what he represents.
He’s asking her if she wants to go for a ride, a little awkward, stumbling over his words so that she knows this isn’t typical for him. Strangely, that makes her feel safe.
And she’s telling him she isn’t going to sleep with him, and she wants to mean it, but even as she says the words, she knows they’re a lie.
He listens when she talks and actually seems to care, and she can’t remember the last time someone did. He tells her she doesn’t belong here, and she knows that for that, she’d give him anything he wants.
He won’t be here long. He’ll go back to
In her heels, she’s taller than him and she was right in thinking that he wouldn’t be as experienced as Tim or any of the other guys she’s been with (there aren’t nearly as many as everyone thinks). But even so, he’s there and for him it’s just as much about her as it is about his own pleasure. That’s new.
For the first time, she doesn’t expect to wake up alone. But she does. Sure, he comes back with a bag of donuts she won’t have the stomach to eat and a cup of coffee that will lose all its heat while she cries. But then he’s gone again, and she realizes that she knew she would end up exactly here.
She knew from the beginning that she would try to grab hold of a life beyond Dillon and west
It always does.
--
She tells Landry that she doesn’t want anyone to know about that night.
Tyra’s been scared for so long that she forgets that she is: scared she’ll never get out of this town, scared she’ll never see Daddy again, scared that she’ll be alone. She strides through the fear, though, shoves it to the side, and she’s forgotten the way it coils, cold and hard-edged, in the pit of her stomach.
Forgotten till it slowly starts to uncoil, inching its way up through her stomach and into her throat at the way that man looks at her, his gaze lingering a little too long to be merely appreciative, it borders on speculative. She examines him out of the corner of her eye, and it doesn’t occur to her till later (much, much later, when she’s stopped shaking and sobbing) that someone as messed up and full of himself as him would interpret that as being coy. One thing Tyra has never been is coy.
He talks to her, and she can tell from that just how much of a creep the guy is. She wishes desperately that Landry was there, and is disgusted at her damsel-in-distress attitude. It’s that thought that reminds her that she holds her own fate in her hands, that she can study any day, and that she needs to do what Oprah always says and trust her instincts (Mama’s a big fan of Oprah).
Later, she wishes she left her textbook where it was. This was Dillon—no one was going to steal it—it would still have been there tomorrow. But she doesn’t, and then there he is, and it’s all fear and panic and sweat and rain and tears and ohGodohGodohGod.
She doesn’t actually think about the cigarette lighter; her body is struggling for her even though her brain is completely paralyzed. And then he’s gone and she can’t stop crying and then there’s Landry and all she knows is that no one can know.
Because she knows Dillon. Knows that people will say she was asking for it—she’s a Collette, after all (and she knows what her last name is synonymous with in this town and hates Daddy for it just a little because it was never like that when he was still here—he made the name mean something). More than that, she knows that he’ll behave perfectly in prison, get out on parole, and then come after her. She’s not so optimistic that she thinks she’ll have been able to get out of town by then.
All this her cool, logical brain tells her (the brain that absolutely betrayed her during the attack). That brain makes her move throughout her day, studying some more for Calculus, fixing dinner, speaking cheerfully enough to Mindy and Mama. It’s only when Landry suggests, yet again, that they tell somebody, that her emotion breaks through. She snaps at him before reigning in her cool again.
But there’s a part of her that’s still a little girl, curled up in a corner, scared and still shaking (and in the dark when she huddles in bed, she is that girl), that desperately wants to run to someone, to tell, to believe that he can be locked away where he can never hurt her again.
This time, her brain wins.
--
She tells Mrs. Taylor that she isn’t thinking about college.
Mama didn’t even finish high school. She was pregnant with Mindy during her senior year and had to drop out in November and marry Daddy (those were the days when shotgun weddings were as common as State rings). Daddy had graduated the year before with a State ring on his finger and was already working for the oil company. Mama really didn’t mind; in all her growing up years, Tyra never once heard Mama hint that she regretted not graduating.
Daddy, though, always wished he’d gotten to go to college. When she was a little girl, both he and Mama always talked about both of their girls going to college, like it was a foregone conclusion like it was for Lyla Garrity and the other rich girls. Tyra’s pretty sure that was why Daddy worked so hard, nearly killing himself to save up money that would one day pay for college.
But the oil dried up and all the money with it and Daddy shattered.
Mama had no skills—she worked at the nail salon for a while and at the Dillard’s and as the secretary for Dillon’s divorce lawyer—and money never stopped being tight. Mindy dropped out of high school to work at Applebee’s, got her G.E.D., and on her eighteenth birthday started working at the Landing Strip.
Tyra had just started high school and cynicism then, but she didn’t understand how Mindy could just give in like that (because she could only see it as a surrender). How could the older sister she idolized just throw her life away like that?
Tyra started dating a senior that year, and by the time summer rolled around, she understood. She packed up all her optimism and plans for the future and when she occasionally brought them out again, the mothball stench sickened her.
Mrs. Taylor rattled her so much that the boxes tumbled open and Tyra couldn’t scoop all their contents back inside so easily this time (even when her own mother doesn't believe in her and doesn't care enough to lie to her).
It’s always been there: out: the idea of it so vivid that she can taste it (though sometimes it chokes her and she gasps for air and other times turns saccharine on her tongue). Now, though, it’s accompanied by up, dragging herself out of the
--
She tells herself that Landry isn’t right.
She can make excuses for herself all day long; she knows the few people who don’t write her off as the town slut make them for her. With a daddy who left her, a mama who cares more about men than about her daughters, a sister who works as a stripper, Tyra Collette was doomed from the start. What else could you expect but that she would chase after men like her mama does, let them use her like her sister does. Never mind that her reputation is a lot worse than her reality—what people believe in Dillon is what’s true.
She’s smart enough that she could psychoanalyze herself, shrink her own head: she uses men, her reputation as the town slut to simultaneously punish herself and search for some kind of meaning. That there’s a part of her that believes that she should let men treat her like dirt (after all, Daddy left her) is just what everyone sees (and who the hell cares if it’s true?). She can’t stand the cliché of it all, even if she lives it, again and again and again.
Tim could be sweet sometimes. There were moments….
And this is what battered women do. She’s smart enough to know that. No man has ever hit her, no man has ever raised a hand against her (except for the one in the parking lot, and oh God, best not think about that). Doesn’t matter. Because she knows perfectly well that it could happen—she could end up jaded and shrewd and making her money by selling her body like Mindy, could end up weak and sad and desperate like Mama, but just as likely she could end up that woman who stands by her man even when she shouldn’t, even when he’s beating the crap out of her, and only gets up the courage to leave when he turns on the kids.
Because that’s what those women do. They make excuses (“there were moments….”), and Tyra is a pro at that. On her better days she tells herself that she would never let that happen, but she’s known enough women with that kind of life to know that it happens by degrees, inching into hell, sliding slowly, no abrupt tumble. She closes her eyes and sees it happening to her, inch by torturous inch.
She can’t let herself believe him. Because if life has taught her anything, it’s that messes like her don’t deserve anything. Or even if they do, they never actually get it.
--
She gets a lot of practice, you see.
long review, pt. 1
But Saturdays were football and cereal and Daddy’s hand in her hair. He laughed at the commercials, and she laughed, too, even when she didn’t understand. Daddy cheered or groaned over plays and calls, and she did, too, even if the screen was just a confusing jumble of men in burnt orange who seemed to like to hurt anyone who wasn’t dressed like them.
Seriously, I can't describe how much I love this paragraph. It shows so much about Tyra and her dad, and what it all means to little Tyra. And this:
By that time, Tyra was old enough to realize there were two addictions Dillon had that were going to suck the town dry and break its spirit: oil and football.
She saw grown men who thought they owned the world because of a huge ugly ring on their fingers. She saw teenage boys crack under the weight of a whole town’s expectations. She saw families split apart by Dillon’s two passions.
Because Tyra is so much more perceptive than anyone in Dillon wants to admit, and all the more so when the push her to the outside, so this bit just *fits.* Tyra, her dad, Dillon, and football, all in one little section, and it's lovely.
Mama’s daddy died when she was seven, and Tyra tells herself that that explains it, even if it doesn’t excuse it. Mama’s always had to have a man look at her like she’s beautiful, and Tyra knows this from the stories she heard growing up.
And there you go, again, summing things up so clearly and cleanly, in a few sentences, what should take you at least a couple paragraphs
He was too busy making sure they didn’t get evicted or have to eat canned chili for dinner for the tenth time in a row.
I really like this line--because Tyra's dad isn't perfect in the way we like to expect, with flowers and special personal attention, but he's doing it "wrong" for the right reasons, because they are just barely getting by, and he's working hard for even that, and it's all so much of life rather than Angela's fancies.
Tyra sticks up for her because she’s blood and that’s what you do for family and because she’s still grasping hold of the idea that someday they’ll be a real family again and Mama will look at her and see her.
And, hi!, it's Tyra and her mom. Although, I don’t think that Angela is completely blind to Tyra--if it comes down to it, Angela is still a mom somewhere down there with all the other parts--but I can see, overall, where this comes from, because Tyra really has to drag it out of Angela.
When Lyla visited, she played, too (because Lyla used to be Tyra’s best friend, before high school and hierarchies and hatred), though she didn’t want to get her dresses dirty—she’d get in trouble.
I just...cannot see Lyla and Tyra being best friends. It hurts my brain, even putting aside how much I kind of hate Lyla. But, it's your writing, and you make me *want* to buy it. This is fundamentally unfair :p
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
Fortunately (or unfortunately, she still hasn’t figured that one out yet) for him, at the same time he became sullen and rebellious, he also became hot.
lmao. Tim. Of course he did. *snerk* And the follow up, the delivery is perfect Tyra.
Leers and winks and big tips, even buttslaps sometimes, though no man has ever tried that twice.
Ha! I love hard-line, none of your BS Tyra.
She knew from the beginning that she would try to grab hold of a life beyond Dillon and west Texas, if only for a moment. She knew, too, that it would slip from between her fingers, crumbling to a powdery dust like ashes that blow away.
Oh, owch. That was my heart you just trampled on, btw. That's sad enough for anyone, but this is Tyra, and, owch.
Tyra’s been scared for so long that she forgets that she is: scared she’ll never get out of this town, scared she’ll never see Daddy again, scared that she’ll be alone. She strides through the fear, though, shoves it to the side, and she’s forgotten the way it coils, cold and hard-edged, in the pit of her stomach.
Another line I love--and btw, makes me absolutely green with envy, because you write things I couldn't if I sat down and rewrote my prose for days--because it takes both Tyra's fear and her strength, and fit them together in a way that is so very true to the character. There are so many ways this spot could have gone wrong--too much fear, too much strength, too much separation or conflict--and you pull it off like it's just the next sentence you thought up while waiting for the bus.
and that she needs to do what Oprah always says and trust her instincts (Mama’s a big fan of Oprah).
Oh. good. lord. The idea of Tyra watching Oprah. It's late right now, okay? And even re-reading this, I need to be *quiet*, but Tyra is referencing Oprah. Heeee.
She packed up all her optimism and plans for the future and when she occasionally brought them out again, the mothball stench sickened her.
Mrs. Taylor rattled her so much that the boxes tumbled open and Tyra couldn’t scoop all their contents back inside so easily this time
Um, yeah. I'm getting annoyingly repetitive, now, but: love.
Tim could be sweet sometimes. There were moments….
And this is what battered women do.
Er. This is one of the few bits that twinges, just because--while I don't think Tim and Tyra were all that great for each other, or had a future together--I do think there was more there than we saw, and that it wasn't a battering-type of situation or possibility. It wasn't sentimental, and in some ways a more honest than other relationships on the show. But I can see where you're going in general, even aside from the Tim part.
So when Landry gives her his little speech about “what she deserves,” the jaded Mindy-part scoffs, the desperate Mama-part swoons, the gonna-end-up-in-a-trailer-park-getting-the-shit-beat-out-of-me-part winces. The jaded part and the trailer park part team up and beat up the swoony part because if she can’t afford to become trailer-park-girl, neither can she afford to be weak and believe in what her head tells her is a lie
lol. I mean, it isn't funny, but somehow it just *is*, and LOL. The mental image alone is ftw.
Um, basically, I still love this fic.
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
This is called abysmal lack of self-restraint. There is just no half-way point for me--I either write a sentence or an epic :P I am so with you there. It's why I'm addicted to choco_cherries, because it makes me be concise when I never am under any other circumstances.
lmao. Tim. Of course he did. *snerk* And the follow up, the delivery is perfect Tyra. I have to admit that I'm kind of proud of that bit.
Another line I love--and btw, makes me absolutely green with envy, because you write things I couldn't if I sat down and rewrote my prose for days--because it takes both Tyra's fear and her strength, and fit them together in a way that is so very true to the character. *blushes profusely* That really does mean a lot, coming from you, since you often write sentences that hit me like a punch in the gut.
And yeah, I could just picture Angela watching Oprah and Tyra doing her homework or making dinner or something and rolling her eyes, but listening anyways.
I do think there was more there than we saw, and that it wasn't a battering-type of situation or possibility. Okay, I obviously didn't communicate what I wanted to. I don't think that Tim would have hit her, not ever. I really don't. I just think that, as you say, they were bad for each other, and that her staying with him when she was aware of that (because if Tyra is anything, it's self-aware) was the beginning of something that could lead to her being in a situation she otherwise wouldn't allow herself to be in (the battering part). It's a slippery slope, is what I'm getting at. *hopes that's clearer*
lol. I mean, it isn't funny, but somehow it just *is*, and LOL. The mental image alone is ftw. Glad you laughed!
Thanks so much. Really, I'm so glad that you liked it, especially because I admire your writing so much. Thanks for the lovely, juicy review, too!
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
Haha, but I *couldn't*. I just literally cannot--I either have to cut myself very short, almost (or actually) to the point of being abrupt, or just let loose and take up pages. It's very sad :p
But, your prose! It's so pretty! And, yeah, seriously beyond me.
Re: Tim/Tyra. Hmm, yes, I can understand that, but I guess I'm saying that... It just didn't strike me as a sentimental relationship, where either would feel the need to *make* excuses--they both knew what it was, even if there was more good there than is generally supposed, whereas if it was part of the slippery slope, then there might have been more deliberate blindness. But maybe it's not much of a distinction, or even just me and my last bit of lingering fondness for the two of them together. Or my fondness for anything not Tyra/Landry :p
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
It just didn't strike me as a sentimental relationship, where either would feel the need to *make* excuses--they both knew what it was, even if there was more good there than is generally supposed, whereas if it was part of the slippery slope, then there might have been more deliberate blindness. I can definitely see all of that. Absolutely.
Honestly, I didn't really care much for Tim/Tyra, but I also have very, very mixed feelings about Tyra/Landry. Honestly, Tyra just needs to get out of town and find herself for a while, be who she wants to be. Then possibly hook up with one of the Winchester boys. *big grin* It's horrible the way I think in crossover terms now.
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
I'm all for starting the Tyra Collette Scholarship Fund to get her the hell out of Dillon.
Aw! Thanks!
Love that icon, btw.
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
Haha, s2. Um. I *own* s2, and I still haven't finished watching it. It's very sad
but I blame Julie, Landry, etc:PDude, yes. Tyra, we love you, but get the frak off our screen :p
thanks!
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
Yeah, one thing I also didn't understand about FNL is the way they have to pair all these way younger characters with inappropriately older ones. Tim/Neighbor Lady, Matt/Nurse Girl, Julie/that Teacher Guy (I don't know how much of that came to anything, but it was frustrating me to no end). But yeah. I'll stop now.
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
I think what disappointed me so about Season 2 was that it seemed to spit on what was so beautiful about Season 1--it's realism. In Season 1, everyone acted like people in a small Southern town would really act, talked the way they would talk, and nothing *too* over the top happened. Season 2 very nearly turned into a soap opera, from what I've seen, like they thought that if they made it more like The OC or something that they'd get more viewers. Oh, writers. You kill me.
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
I suspect that that's exactly what they were doing--trying to draw in more viewers. Unfortunately, better shows have failed on those same grounds :\
Re: long review, pt. 2 (aka. I need to learn how to shut up)
It's tragic the way that so many great shows just can't get the viewership and so many mediocre ones stay on the air by getting tons of people to veg out. I kind of hate the qualitative view of the world that dominates pretty much everything these days. We should go back to the patronage system!
Re: long review, pt. 1
With that paragraph, what was important to me was showing that Tyra used to have a real, loving life, even if it was never, ever perfect. Because I always felt that she had to have lost something, totally, to have been broken like she is, instead of having nothing from the beginning. So I'm very glad you liked that part.
Because Tyra is so much more perceptive than anyone in Dillon wants to admit, and all the more so when the push her to the outside I so ridiculously agree with you there. That's exactly how I see her.
but he's doing it "wrong" for the right reasons, because they are just barely getting by, and he's working hard for even that, and it's all so much of life rather than Angela's fancies. Exactly! *loves that we're on the right page for this*
Although, I don’t think that Angela is completely blind to Tyra--if it comes down to it, Angela is still a mom somewhere down there with all the other parts--but I can see, overall, where this comes from, because Tyra really has to drag it out of Angela. I'll agree with you there. I think this is how it would feel to Tyra, and I really like the way you phrased it about "dragging it out," because that's exactly what I was going for.
But, it's your writing, and you make me *want* to buy it. This is fundamentally unfair :p Haha! You crack me up!
But seriously, I used to hate Lyla, too, but I'm starting to like her more in Season 2--or at least be able to understand where she's coming from--even if I haven't finished the season yet. But I was just thinking of all these girls I know who were literally best friends all during their growing up years and then high school arrived and they suddenly hated each other--it happens again and again, and I could sort of see it with Tyra and Lyla, but I can understand if you couldn't, sure.
Re: long review, pt. 1
Honestly, I could see it either way--having lost it, or just being forced so consistantly to the outside by everyone else--but you did a lovely job of showing your perspective on it :)
Lyla...I started to almost like her at the end of s1, actually, and rather liked seeing Tyra rub off on her--I was really hoping that we'd see some kind of friendship there, just for the effect it might have on Lyla. Unfortunately, she went back to annoying me in s2 (which I haven't finished, either). Her choices and her attitude just generally bug me *shrugs*
Tyra and Lyla just seem so *different*/incompatible to me, perhaps even especially due to "Texas forever", and the soft spot I have for Tyra and Jason as almost-friends, but then I can agree with you--it wouldn't be a first with teenage girls.
Re: long review, pt. 1
I think my main problem with Lyla is that she's such a victim. I'd been reading some article over on Jezebel about how the difference between a woman-as-victim (they were talking about on TV) was the attitude--that no matter how many bad things happened to Buffy or Veronica, they were never just victims because of their attitudes. Tyra strikes me as a woman like that. Lyla, on the other hand, just seems to sort of selfishly wallow in her own pain (now that's just season 1; I can't judge on 2 yet).
Ah. Here's the article Jezebel linked to: here it is
perhaps even especially due to "Texas forever" Ah, yes, but is the "Texas forever" really Lyla's thing or is it just part of her building her life around Jason? But I can definitely, definitely understand why they would seem so incompatible to you.
Also, Tyra and Jason and the almost-friends thing is awesome.
Re: long review, pt. 1
Re: long review, pt. 1
Re: long review, pt. 1
Re: long review, pt. 1
But yeah, there are few things I hate more than watching writers waste opportunities that all the fans see. I will never understand it.
Re: long review, pt. 1
Re: long review, pt. 1
I'm interested, though--why do you say it isn't your type of show?
Re: long review, pt. 1
Well, to be honest, I don't *like* a lot of the characters, and sometimes I don't even like the ones I do love--or I think the writers have randomly coloured in a detour just 'cause, well, hey fun! But otherwise, usually, as soon as someone (eg. Lyla) starts cheating on their paralyzed boyfriend with the best friend (eg. Tim), and they have a real love story!1! as it drags on; or even when a number of characters keep making really stupid choices...I tend to tune out, even if it is done exceptionally well or realistically--which fnl does. Also, life surrounding a sport team is usually a warning sign, lol. I love characters, I love plot, and...well, I'm quite often a sci-fi/fantasy girl, especially with my tv. Hence Doctor Who, BSG, Joss-shows, etc, and avoid "real" life dramas, especially teen-centred ones. *shrugs*
Re: long review, pt. 1
I actually thought they were going to go the mature route with the whole Lyla/Tim thing and say, "Hey, she did this for comfort when everything with Jason was going crazy, it was wrong, and now we all have to deal with the fallout from it." But no. More of that real love story!1! you speak of. *sighs*
Also, life surrounding a sport team is usually a warning sign, lol. Oh, hey, totally. I really have no feelings about sports whatsoever except that I am horribly bad at them and that I like to go to high school football games sometimes because they can be fun. And I think that's what turns a lot of people off to the show before they even see it--they think, "a show about a football team" and immediately turn away, even though it's about so much more about that.
Oh, I love sci-fic fantasy TV, too.
Hence Doctor Who, BSG, Joss-shows, etc, and avoid "real" life dramas, especially teen-centred ones. *shrugs* Me, too. With Veronica Mars being the obvious exception. Oh, Rob Thomas. Create me another show.
Re: long review, pt. 1