Counting down the hours until the Doctor Who Christmas Special, and I for one, am about as excited for this as I am for actual Christmas itself.
During the long wait for the Doctor Who 50th anniversary, I prepared myself by rewatching the entire series in various orders.
First I rewatched the end season one, because Nine is my favorite.
Then I rewatched it again.
I rewatched a bit of Rose and Tennant, but then I skipped ahead quite a bit, because I am still pretty salty about Tennant’s last few scenes…who decided his last line should have been, ‘I don’t want to go?’
It was funny in the 50th Anniversary, but pathetic before his regeneration.
Of all the episodes, Tennant’s last was the only one I could never bring myself to rewatch
Did he have to be such a jerk and yell at his companion?
Why couldn’t he at least wave back at Mickey and Martha?
He couldn’t even salute Wilfred back either?
I loved Tennant’s run, and that was just not the way to send off such an amazing Doctor.
So, anyways, I skip ahead, all the way to season seven, and since it’s on my iPad, I watched it over and over and over…then I needed a bit of a break.
So, I drew the curtains back, let my skin get used to the light again, and set aside all fandoms but True Blood and Dexter, what the summer now being over and there being new episodes and all.
I can’t even look at Game of Thrones right now.
I always promise myself I will spend a lot of time poolside during my summers, and I always end up working.
This summer was no different, I literally had nothing cool to report.
I worked, I drank daiquiris, I rediscovered my love of video games, and I took this time away from Who to catch up and get into some other shows that don’t completely absorb my soul, Broadchurch, Orange is the New Black, Skins, actually, Skins does kind of make me want to curl in a bawl after watching it.
And I am seriously going to miss that show, no matter how rough that last gen was.
But then, despite my post-Tennant depression, something wonderful happened, and The End of Time came on BBC, just before the announcement of the Twelfth, and who should it be? Sid’s dad from Skins!
And then, I was back! Back to watching all of the episodes in whatever order I freaking felt like and just waiting for November.
rewatching Tennant’s goodbye, now knowing what to expect, mixed with my excitement for the new Doctor and lack of some serious Who time for like, a whole month or something outrageous like that, my love was kick-started once more.
As it turns out, all we needed was a little space and now we’re stronger than ever.
And since then I have been watching from The End of Time on through and getting really hot and heavy with my girl, River.
I’m getting excited just talking about it.
The 50th special, I can’t even get into.
Although not quite what I was hoping for, it was still amazing, and that moment when they showed Capaldi’s crazy/sexy/angry owl eyes, my excitement could hardly be contained.
(Seriously, I’m surprised I still have friends, this was all I talked about for weeks).
I will admit, though, when Capaldi was first chosen, a little part of me was disappointed.
Not because Capaldi isn’t a total freaking genius, but because I went into this whole thing with David Morrissey as my pick, which I knew would probably not happen due to The Walking Dead, so my pick was Bill Nighy for someone who might be in the running, and you know, not already a lead character in a hit television series.
(And now David Morrissey isn’t even that anymore…and that’s just something I can’t deal with yet).
Capaldi hadn’t really entered my mind for the role, but it was a pleasant surprised.
It will be interesting to hear what it sounds like when he’s not shouting a streak of some of the most brilliant cursing I have ever heard.
This is my Who life. I have a whole other life out there, but who wants to talk about themselves allM day? Lots of people. Maybe even me a little, but only a little. The rest of the time, this works for me.
So. I haven’t posted too many public posts or a review in quite awhile.
But I am here to let you know that that will be changing soon enough, as I will be getting a new keyboard and will be able to type away to my hearts little content with more than just my pointer fingers or thumbs.
What with the holiday, we are on a major break from pretty much all new television, the only hope I have to relieve my boredom, you know, other than being social and like, going out and talking to people, is the Doctor Who Christmas Special coming up here this next week.
But, come January we will have lots to discuss…
Will Lip go to MIT?
Will Sherlock be just as amazing as ever?! (Yes, absolutely yes).
Will I be the only one to miss The Gov’na?
Oh. AND WHERE THE EFF IS JUDITH?!!
Will Ted finally meet this freaking broad already?
Will Damon and Elaina get back together?!! (that’s right, I watch The Vampire Diaries too now).
Is Josh going to be a freaking Werewolf forever?
Will Yang stop being such a total B?
Will Cece take Schmidt back, because they are the reason I watch.
Will Mindy kiss Danny already, he is such a babe.
Why didn’t Precious just shoot herself in like, the hand or something, use her voodoo so that guy could stop shooting and then, just this once, everybody lives.
When will Broadchurch be back, and will Arthur Darvill return for the second season, sexy as ever?!
And most importantly, what will Adam’s body look like in this season of Girls?!
Ah, there is so much to come, I can barely hold my excitement!
So. I’m twenty-six-years old, and apparently my life is over.
This isn’t some dramatic, overreaction on my part, it is on yours.
Or rather the general population, The Man, society, whatever.
As I sit, a relatively happy, independent, girl with the perfect balance between a hard-working employee and dedicated partier during my after hours, I am told that, basically, I have pretty much almost completely fucked my chance at a decent future.
Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Let me start by saying that I am, apparently, from a long line of creative lords and ladies or some shit, and am destined to do great things…if everyone would get off my back about it.
But. Because I didn’t finish school just yet, because I enjoyed my youth and chose the path of just being happy and having a good time for awhile, I somehow woke up past my prime and without a hope in the world.
When did this happen? When did our mid-twenties turn into something where I am meant to feel like a failure because I am still working to get myself together. Because I am childless and in a committed relationship that doesn’t involve a legal documents or fancy ceremony.
I know I am not where I want to be, but I am working on that, and was under the impression that was okay.
But incidentally if you’re not doing exactly what everyone else wants you to do, well, then you’re doing it wrong.
So my mother, god love her, wants nothing more than for me to finish college.
I honestly believe that I could finish school and get a ‘career’ that pays 10k less a year than my current serving job and my mother would be ecstatic.
My father, the screenwriter, wants me to be a writer just like him. And I get it, I love to write, I am a writer, just not sure about screenwriting.
So why the long and lengthy speal about how I need to do the thing that I am already doing.
Why make me dread doing something that I love, why make it a chore.
Why the reminder that I am years behind from where I need to be
I got it. My Facebook feed is a constant reminder that I am apparently far behind in more ways than one when it comes to life.
It’s just so funny, because I thought happiness was the most important thing in life, but I guess nothing in life beats getting a solid head start on your parents’ dream career.
So here I am, writing, so I never have to listen to another two hour lecture in the middle of my stories.
Someone is always going to be having a worse day than you.
Try and remember that.
Well. What a long week this is turning out to be already.
I haven’t even watched the third episode of Game of Thrones yet. Complete blasphemy.
I have, however, gone to Dayton and back, watched my friend get a pretty sweet tattoo, got my left nostril repierced, worked a whole bunch, further embedded a splinter into my heel in the process, made my rent, my phone bill and more (sweet) as well in the process, cleaned my entire house (with the exception of dishes…okay, I don’t do dishes), worked some more, and successfully completed the first season of Doctor Who and am finally, officially hooked.
I miss Christopher Eccleston already though (love you). I don’t know what it is about that man, but he does something to me.
Ever since the first time I saw him help Peter Petrelli learn how to be invisible and other stuff in Heroes he has just been the cherry on my sundae.
Anyways, I really need to manage my priorities which means not picking up shifts for a buncha jerks who’ll never get me back, taking me to a grand total of nine shifts this week.
Also, blog more, but not when I am supposed to be sleeping, such as now.
So sleep, yep. That’s what I’ll do.
Got off work at about 2:30 yesterday, I’ve been fortunate enough to have shorter shifts this week, just…more of them, so I guess it all evens out doesn’t it.
Anyways, yay, 2:30…pm, not am, and I didn’t have to be at any of my other jobs, that almost never happens.
So I’m all set to just lounge around, I got my Netflix going, I’m caught between rewatching season two of The L-Word for the thirty-seventh time, finishing the UK Being Human, because I am seriously behind, or starting Mad Men, because if you can believe it, my ass has never seen that show, I only recently decided to finally get into it because I guess Jessica Pare is in it now. And I enjoy her quite a bit, especially in the mouth area (call me).
So. I turn on The L-Word in the meantime and start getting ready for a relaxing Wednesday afternoon of doing abosolutely nothing.
Cut to me writing off and on from pretty much 3pm-3am, followed by another two hours of editing.
Ahhh! And I didn’t even start Mad Men!
However, the boyfriend is out of town this weekend to set up a Kenny Chesney stage or something, so I will have plenty of me time to start in on the series.
I will also be getting a tattoo on my foot tomorrow, maybe, probably.
My friend’s ex is a tattoo artist who will be going out of town after this week for six months. So she is heading to his shop to get her Tank Girl tattoo finished and I figured I would tag along and keep her company.
Problem is, now I want to get a tattoo too!
Here’s the thing, I am not one of those impulse tattoo guys (or ladies, whatever).
Every tattoo, however meaningless it may seem to you, maybe even some silly, it means something huge to me. Each and every single one, including the joke one on my butt, even THAT one has a whole backstory.
So, here is my problem. I know exactly what I want for tattoos but two are supposed to be a sort of buddies tattoos with my long-time friends, one is a specific design by a different artist that I only intend for him to do, so that’s out, and the last is freaking HUUUGE.
I’m a big nerd for quotes, 9 out of my 10 tattoos all have words in them or are exclusively quotes, but for this big one I wanted to actually to do something with those words. Maybe make some beautiful artwork out of them this time, but I am the worst freehand artist ever (I can rock a still life though, let me tell you) and find it impossible to explain what I want to someone who doesn’t know anything about syfy, nerdy, supernatural stuff, in specific Game of Thrones and The Southern Vampire Mysteries (also known to the tv world as True Blood).
So, I refuse to get this tattoo until I find an artist who has read the books, not merely watched the show, and can help me put the ideas that are in my head to pencil and paper, and eventually to my skin. Get it on there!
The one I was planning on getting on my foot is a quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower, but my two issues are, well, my friend and I are supposed to get them together and also, now the book is a movie and it’s all hipstery and Emma Watson has the tattoo, but then that also kinda just makes me want to get it more…
I have a couple other ideas…okay, ENDLESS ideas, but I am getting so sick of having to cover up at work, it’s about to be 90 degrees and I’m going to be serving patio beers in pants and three quarter sleeves as it is so I really just don’t know where to put any of them, I call this my Jon Snow complex.
I just don’t have enough body parts! Or something.
So. I might not end up get anything new at all because, I don’t know if you guys know this, but incidentally that stuff is permanent.
I might just get a touch up or maybe a little add on.
Either way it’s a night off work, in a different city, with my best friend and hey, that sounds pretty fun. Even if I have to spend two hours of that time just jealously watching her get tattooed.
If you’ve read the recent controverstial article Eat This: 5 ways YOU delay your meal, then you might already have an idea about how much bigger this became than probably anybody figured it would be.
Some people were mad, some people thought that this guy had it dead on.
I fall in this grey area of smack dab in-between ‘slight disagreement’ and ‘total agreement.’
But hey, maybe I’m biased.
In the link below I dive into my take on the article, take a look into both sides, and make a list of my own.