The FWB (I’ll let you figure out what that stands for) and I are taking the night off, and instead of dedicating my free time to some lofty goal, like my thesis or my continuing cinematic education, I’m walking around restlessly, cursing how many clothes I have (the hanging part of my closet collapsed and I had to find new spots for each and every one of my two dozen vests), and watching In Plain Sight, which really isn’t one of the strongest things TV has to offer nowadays.
Call it procrastination, something I’m so good at that continuing my studies with a PhD probably wouldn’t be the brightest idea. But I’ve decided to at least turn it into slightly useful procrastination, and seeing how I finished season two of Dexter, I present: the review. After all, I also wrote one for Season One.
I’m drifting. I finally get a chance to kill and I can’t do it. I get a second chance and he gets away. And now all my secrets are floating to the surface. Where is the orderly controlled effective Dexter? Where did I lose him? How do I find him again? I’m drifting. But not to sleep. Dexter
