Things are about to get a lot more awesome around here. I’m talking about the trilogy. This trilogy. This is part one. I’ve always wanted to do a trilogy. Some of my favorite things in life are split up into three. You obviously can’t write a trilogy without at least acknowledging the most influential trilogy of all time: the Blade trilogy. I’m just kidding. Blade 2 was cool, but that’s about it. Everyone knows I’m really talking about Star Wars.
How great is Star Wars? Great enough that I shouldn’t even really be talking about it. Everybody’s already said basically everything there is to say about Star Wars. Personally, I think it would have been a little bit more interesting if Uncle Owen refused to buy R2-D2 and instead stuck by his original purchase of the inferior R5-D4. You remember, that red one over there? Maybe then we wouldn’t have had to hear C-3PO complaining about R2 so much. That got old pretty fast, didn’t it?
Trilogies are great because each part of the story is perfectly compartmentalized into just the right proportions of a perfect story. Part one’s are always the best. We’re just starting out. Not only do we have this whole first part in front of us to enjoy, to take in and to savor, but we’re left with so much to look forward to. The worst part about anything great is the ending. That’s it. It’s over. We’re glad you enjoyed it, but now it’s done, and the enjoyment is over, and all you’re left with is a hollow, sinking feeling of finality, of everything. Part one, while it ends, it’s not really an ending. You’re not even halfway done with the whole trilogy. The ending is just the beginning.
Everything’s new in the first part of a trilogy. You don’t have any established rules to abide by, because everything’s unfolding for the first time. Remember how cool it was to see Batman train to become Batman in that first Batman movie? I’m talking about the good Batman movies, with Christian Bale, not those lame ones that started in the 80s. And then he got his whole Batman outfit? And the first time he appears out of nowhere and everyone’s just like, “Who the hell are you?” and he’s like, “Call me the Batman.” Epic. Just absolutely epic.
I love trilogizing. I try to break up everything that I do into three parts. If I’m at work and I’m waiting on a table, I really like to only make three appearances. Part one: “Hey how’s everybody doing today, ready to order?” They better be ready to order, because I’m not coming back until Part two: the serving. That’s when I serve the food. I then disappear as the customers come to grips with what they’ve ordered and realize that I’m not coming back to check up on them, and so they’d better just make the best out of their meals. And then, finally, Part three: the check. Pay up mothafuckas.
Life is basically one huge trilogy also. You’re a kid, then you’re an adult, then you’re an old person. I’d have to say that the first part of this trilogy is definitely the best. That’s why I’ve been reluctant to embrace the part two of my life. Every time that I feel like I’m acting too old or that I’ve lost a little of my whimsy or whatever, I like to throw a huge temper tantrum, throwing stuff, acting like a huge baby, crying, screaming, everything. And then when I settle down, I’ll look at myself in the mirror and say to myself, well Rob, you’ve sure got a lot of growing up to do. And I’ll feel better, like I’m still wrapping up the part one of my life. And it’s true. It’s all about expectations here. I plan on living to be a hundred and twenty years old. So based on simple arithmetic, I still have over a decade left of acting like a self-centered entitled brat. I’ll grow up eventually. Unless I get hit by a bus while I’m doing something completely irresponsible, like running across the street with a huge lollipop in my mouth, and I start choking on it, because you’re not supposed to run with candy in your mouth, and I’m panicking from the choking, and I turn to my left and the Q69 is right there and, well, I hope that doesn’t happen.
The best part about the first part of a trilogy is that you never have to wrap things up. Coming up with a satisfying ending is the hardest part of any storytelling task. You could have the best idea for the coolest story on the planet, but if you don’t know how to end it, if you can’t think of a convincing way to answer all of those giant questions and gaping plot holes that you’ve posed to your audience, then everyone’s going to be pissed, and nobody’s going to let you do anything else ever again. Like that TV show Lost. J.J. Abrams couldn’t deliver on the finale, and since then, his career has been total garbage. Didn’t he have some prison show? I have no idea because I’ve completely written him off. Maybe if you kept Lost to three seasons the laws of the trilogy would have worked in your favor. But no, seven years on the air. Great job buddy.
What was I saying about not having to wrap things up? Check back tomorrow for the answers to these questions, and even more questions, and even more hints at possible answers, and hopefully enough distracting nonsense that you won’t remember all of the bad parts about this first part, you’ll just be looking forward to part three, but that’s not until the day after tomorrow, because tomorrow’s part two.