The gypsy in me.

Today I awoke a bit healthier than I have done in the last week or so. But what I awoke to was a longing for the visceral again. For actually seeing the world. Walking it. Interacting with it. Tasting it’s flavors. Understanding bits of it. Definitely appreciating it.

When I get this feeling at this level, it actually physically hurts that I'm not attaining it. It’s the deepest, most intense longing in me. It goes beyond even the desire for companionship.

It’s not about making my mark on the world. My time here on this planet, in the scope of all of history and all that is to come, is miniscule at most. It’s about BEING in it. Experiencing it. Knowing, truly knowing, the wonder of it during these moments I'm privileged to be in it. Glimpsing it’s beauty in this moment. Marveling at the cultures I encounter. And touching as much of it as I possibly can.

This. This is what drives me. What feeds me. I spend my time downloading books to my reader or films to my external hard drive in anticipation of the first step of this journey. Yet, in reality when I go I won’t give a crap about these things. I’ll care about engaging with what is around me. Not what is made to entertain. (Not that I obviously don’t enjoy these things… but they often can dilute the preciousness of the moment as well as suck time from this sacred interaction.)

I used the word “sacred.” I do see being deeply engaged in each moment as spiritual encounter – as the most profound way to honor the divine, or at least to honor this mysterious gift called life.

But I digress. This drive, this desire for a nomadic existence is both marvelous and maddening. How do I support myself financially is the most trying part to figure out. (Yes, I am open to suggestions – and especially connections.)

It is isolating, too. Many people I meet think it’s a great dream, but then have a lot of negative comments about it. They even become angry. I do understand. They have made choices in life that have allowed them to walk away from their dreams. To encounter someone who still holds to theirs is not always comfortable. It is only hard when I get discouraged and haven’t someone who believes in me and my goals to encourage me. (I’m so very grateful I have a few wonderful women who do that for me now. What a true blessing.)

Whatever this wayfaring passion is, it is my objective; my goal. my future. I just wish so much I knew how be in it now rather than always, ever “moving towards it.”

Love (supposedly) happens.

I just watched a film tonight on a whim. It was called “Love Happens.” It was a good film in that it had a depth I didn’t expect and wasn’t the rote Hollywood love story. For me however, what was glaringly obvious was that in my life love doesn’t seem to happen.

In the end, what I saw was the lack of it in my life. In the past I have idly wondered about how people have love more than once in their lives. At the conclusion of this film I felt the frustration of the main character experiencing the potential for real love a second time while I can only long for it just once.

It’s hard not to think how much I must lack as a person to not ever have been very near it. Mostly, though, at the moment I feel envy for those who find it so easily. I even envy the potential pain – because I know that it is only possible to experience deep love if you risk greatly.

Perhaps that is the problem. I know the risk it takes. Therefore in the past when I’ve decided to trust, I dove in the deep end with an open, vulnerable heart – expectant and ready. Finding out after all that talk of oceans that they didn’t know how to swim, or at most only wanted ankle deep waters, made it hard to want to keep climbing that ladder to the high dive board.

But I would again. If someone would talk of oceans once more. It seems they no longer do. Not to me.

So do I see this as a reflection of how unworthy I am? Do I just keep moving forward, pretending-until-I-believe that life without love is still great? Do I give up the biggest portion of who I am to be someone who is more accessible in order to have it? Or do I keep hoping that someone I can be crazy about will cross my path who will love me – as I am? Because honestly, hope is exhausting, and quite frankly, after nearly 42 years, unfulfilling.

I know, I know – I’m not being very positive. I’m sure I’ll find that place of graceful patience again. But for tonight I’m childishly covetous of you who have love and am generally discontented with my life lived thus far without it. Just for tonight, while still trusting the journey, knowing love happens is a horrible reality rather than a wondrous possibility.

Timing is everything.

Hope. That’s what this is. I’d forgotten. Or at least, I’d forgotten the pleasant side of it. This last month, being out of touch, I have been discovering hope again… in the strangest of ways.

I suppose it had been building for a while, leading me to this place of feeling again. Then I had a couple weeks where suddenly I was feeling all the pain of the traumas of the last five years – all at once. It was nearly unbearable, but I knew that if I could feel this pain, if I could find a way to walk along with it, then I could again feel love and have passion and find… hope. I just didn’t want to be numb anymore, but until then didn’t have the tools – the pain and heartbreak – to be free of the anesthesia.

The thing about pain is that without feeling it we can’t feel anything. Not really. Certainly not deeply. Overwhelmed, I had flipped that switch to “off” in order to deal with the fallout of various extreme situations that I was bombarded with in rapid succession. However, by the time I wanted it turned on, I couldn’t reach it. I was so far from it wandering in that darkness, I couldn't even see it.

When I then all these years later unexpectedly backed into it, I was blinded by the light. It was incapacitating to experience so much emotional pain all at once. Now my heart has adjusted. (I’m so grateful.) And I find I have passion again… so much of it! Yet, now it it tempered with wisdom and experience, so it is a fuller and a more beautiful sort of passion.

I’m not saying everything’s perfect, and frankly I hope I never will say so – how boring that would be! I am saying I feel [internally] prepared for what may come. More, I am moving toward it with anticipation while still endeavoring to be present even in these duller moments.

As this hope builds, and more specifically as I complete my few remaining (time consuming) projects, I will be much more consistent with my blog entries… and I would imagine they will be getting more interesting as I enter into the flow of, well, my destiny.

Here’s hoping…

Like father like son.

I just now saw a lead in for a segment on a news show about a seven year old being taught to hate… they showed him holding a sign saying, “God hates fags.” The clip included the interviewer asking the parents the question, “What if he grows up and doesn’t agree with everything [you believe] anymore?” He’d be bounced out of the family – “that’s the Lord.”

After a moment of this sinking into not just my psyche but also my spirit, I wept. I wept deeply.

What this family is doing is horrifying on multiple levels. Employing a merciful and forgiving God (who IS love) to wield and spew hate is appalling and grievous. To indoctrinate their children into this hate-filled perspective is shocking and frightening. To believe one is righteous whilst judging others is above all angering and embittering.

I wanted to scream, yet could only weep. I wept for those whom with words they were wounding; I wept for their children who will have a difficult time of ever finding their own way and who might never know what unconditional love is like; I wept for how they were condemning themselves to a life, and (if one believes in such a thing) an afterlife, of misery and coldness; and without knowing it at the time, I wept for the children of a family I grew up with who suffered a similar, though in many ways more insidious, form of tyranny.

I wrote for several hours about this, detailing many things: My perspective spiritually, and how I feel they are so far from knowing who God really is. My feelings about their position on sexuality in the context of spirituality. My heartbreak at their absolutism versus, the beautiful alternative of love and understanding regardless of agreement. My feelings about their role as parents. But what it came down to was my perspective on freedom.

You see, the thing that makes it most difficult for me to decide how I feel about this is that I truly abhor how parenting is controlled by media and popular society. For instance, the public floggings of the parents whom have encouraged their kids to go for their dreams even in youth are appalling to me. To the father who climbed Mount Everest with his 13 year old son – I applaud him for nurturing those dreams and allowing his son to go for it, and not only that but doing it alongside him. It’s not like the boy didn’t have to work very hard to get there. Yes it’s dangerous, but everyday life can be dangerous – and how much better will he be for understanding the effort and preparation and exertion it takes to achieve, but also how worth it the endeavor is?

The same with the 16 year old girl circumnavigating the globe non-stop alone via a sailboat. Or the 7 year old girl in 1996 who became a pilot. (Yes, in attempting to cross the U.S. she, her father, and her flight instructor crashed and died, but she was already better educated than most college graduates, knew her mind and pursued her dream.) How dare the media, the masses, whomever, ridicule and condemn those parents because they didn’t choose to coddle and ignore their child’s dreams and potentials. They listened and gave them wings. Just because our modern society says that protection is the absolute, the most important thing, does not make it so.

Whatever we think about these hate-filled parents, why do we think we have a right to tell them how to raise their children? That above all else bothers me... because, I assure you that if we do, it won’t stop with them. So how can I, then, condemn these parents teaching hate as I so desperately want to? Within my heart I fiercely defend the freedoms we enjoy here in America. I know they are fragile, and come with a great weight of responsibility that we as a nation don’t always handle very well, but I believe it would be an insidious kind of enslavement to have my government tell me how to raise my children (or worse, to have the world do so via the UN). Such a thing frightens me beyond measure, and as a fearless optimist, that's saying something.

To that end, I find it irritating that this news program put the story of the 16 year old sailor, the 13 year old climber, and an 11 year old toreador in the same light as this story of the 7 year old hater, making it seem that these parents are all the same. This is, to me, more of the media tainting and manipulating our perspective.

How do we find our way free of this control while still trying to keep children away from actual abuse? Because I believe that parents of the sailor and the climber, at least, did something magnificent in fanning the flames of their child’s dreams and guiding them as they worked for it... then letting them go to achieve when the time came, knowing whatever the outcome that their child would be profoundly the better for the experience of trying.

I liked what the young climber said, “I encourage other kids to discover their own Everest and go for it.” Magnificent. Incandescent. May we all find that kind of perspective, whatever our age!

Ten on Tuesday.

I thought I'd join in on this week's Ten on Tuesday. I tend to prefer when the questions are interrelated as well as on a topic that interests me, but this week's questions do touch on travel and the outdoors, so I figured I'd give it a go...

1. What two cities should be moved closer together?
Gosh. I’m not sure. I think I like the journey too much. But I think it’d be wherever I am to wherever I want to be next. Yet, that’s not right either because I’d not like Edinburgh, Scotland to be down the road from Los Gatos, California. That’d be creepy and ruin the point.

2. What was the first plane ride you took?
No idea – was way too young. I remember the first plane ride I took alone. I was seven and went on a plane from Northern to Southern California to visit my grandma and grandpa. It was so exciting to be doing this on my own that I can even tell you what the sundress I was wearing looked like (this was in the days when one dressed nicely to travel).

3. What continent would you most like to visit?
All of them. And I will.

4. What’s your favorite place to window-shop?
I don’t like shopping, really, so mostly I hunt online (and still don't much like it). Although I did a browse through REI on Saturday and enjoyed it a lot. Got me excited for hiking in nature and traveling the world – two of my favorite things. Back when I had a place to do my art, my answer would have been Home Depot.

5. What’s the least fun you’ve ever had at a place specifically tailored for fun?
Well, because I read someone else’s answer to this question, what comes to mind was when I went to this really cool event, a Mayfest, at the Tourist Club on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County last year. We had to hike down this really steep grade to get to it, and once I got down there I got an insane migraine. It was quite hot and heat makes my migraines explode. I’m miles and miles from anything resembling a place to rest, I rode with a group in a beat up SUV with no working air and no apparent shocks, and all there is available to drink is, of course, beer... which will only dehydrate me and make the pain worse. There was traditional German polka-like music replete with screeching (so it seemed to me) horns blaring, bodies everywhere in a relatively small space, barbecues heating it up more and sending smells wafting everywhere that made me feel like puking even more, and a blazing bright sun shining in my eyes to sharpen the pain up to the nth degree. I didn’t want to spoil the event for the rest of the group, but I thought I might just curl up and die somewhere. The worst was all those hours and hours later when we left, I still had to walk those several miles up that incredibly steep grade in the heat. Hell of a day. Funny thing was it was such a cool event that even in that state I wanted to become a member of the club.

6. You’re stuck on an island with plenty of food, a companion, and a relatively stress-free lifestyle. What do you say when the rescue ship comes?
It took me a long time to come up with a real answer for this. But then I remembered. Island fever. When on Maui, one of the most beautiful places I’ve visited, I realized that I’d not be able to live there very long because I would get serious island fever... mostly because I love to explore, it’s my nature to my core, and once it’d all been explored (including the water around the island), no matter how wonderful and simple my life was (which is ideal in my book), I’d go stir crazy pretty quickly. Though, I could ask the rescue ship to send us a helicopter so that when we want to we could take jaunts off the island. Then I’d not feel trapped. The other thing is, where is this island? In the middle of the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles from anything, or just off a coast somewhere so that if we built a canoe we could paddle off now and then? Also, if the island is New Zealand, I’M STAYING.

7. Which day of the week do you look forward to most?
This is going to sound so stupid, but I love Thursdays. Always have. I can’t explain it. I don’t know that it’s the one I most look forward to, but I do love me my Thursdays. I think I look forward to the days I know I will be doing something I love doing or will be with someone I love, or be doing something I’ve never tried before... and that’s never on a specific day of the week.

8. What’s your favorite place to enjoy the great outdoors?
Anywhere in nature, I guess. I love the forest, but I also love the ocean. I’m not big on deserts, but that’s mostly because of my issues with heat ever since I got heat strokes 15 years ago. Well, that and I DON'T love dry, dusty, barren places. I love lush, green, moist... with creeks flowing through the dense trees and secrets to discover, as well as the wildlife that comes with that environment. Then, too, the sound of the crashing waves of the ocean... especially in the rain. Or if in someplace lovely (like the afore mentioned Maui), then snorkeling all day long and seeing the wonders of that sort of wildlife! I feel like nature is my temple, so entering it in any form is a way for my soul to be refreshed. (Perhaps that is why I prefer the moist, lush places... though even in the deserts I can experience this.)

9. What’s on your “to do” list this summer?
Hmm. Well, number one would be moving to Scotland. But before and after, going on as many hikes and jaunts into nature as possible. Potentially getting back to cycling. Mostly remembering to find restful moments to just partake and enjoy... whatever is around me. And continuing in my quest of purging the detritus of life – both internally and externally. Less stuff, less clutter, getting to the bare minimum externally. No more mass amounts of storage. Just my books, some quality kitchen things, and some lovely bits that bring me joy. Internally getting rid of the junk that weighs me down, that detracts from living my best life, from being as open as possible to those around me MUST GO. Freeing myself of those annoying thought processes that cause me to think “I can’t” is another big part of this detritus I’m purging. Also, to continue to find more ecologically sound ways of living, wherever I may be, and reducing my waste as much as possible. Mustn't forget, watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

10. Which natural disaster freaks you out the most?
I don’t really get freaked out by such things. I’ve been in intense blizzards without power, some of the worst earthquakes in recent history, and even a hurricane or two. I don’t think I’d like to have my home (such as it may be) taken out by any of them, but why dread what we have no control over? I will say that as a kid I’d have nightmares about Tsunamis. But they were cartoon-like dreams where the giant tidal wave would suddenly be overcoming the towering downtown of a big city. And there I'd be running, knowing it was useless. Interestingly, I neither lived next to the ocean nor in a big city with high rises... so go figure. But, because I love water so much I think I’d be really sad to experience its devastating powers, whether through floods or hurricanes or tsunamis. Also, I have this weird sort of feeling that if my stuff was all taken from me in this way, it’d sort of be freeing. It’d be hard because I have things from family whom have passed on, yet it’d be so releasing – I’d be able to be the nomad a really am without worry over stuff. Even if it’s stuff I LOVE. I’m a weirdo, aren’t I?

Okay, I just wrote all that, and then realized I would totally be freaked out by potential avalanche if I ever was somewhere where that was a possibility. Being buried alive is a horrific enough thought, but to do it while freezing is worse somehow. Yikes.

So there you go. A little more about me you mightn't have known.

The dream and me.

Goals are strange, often illusive things. We aspire to them, we try to tackle them, we aim for them, we fight for them, and every so often, we achieve them. Lately, I’ve been trying to determine what I need to make that every-so-often be simply every.

In saying this, I don’t mean to say that I want to have everything I ever desired. Honestly, that’d be quite cumbersome. Rather, I’ve been evaluating what the core desires in me are and then figuring out how to make them absolutes. No more “one day,” but rather, “on my way.”

Some of you know through reading here, as well as perhaps through personal interactions, that my deepest longings rest in writing and in experiencing. So, I want to travel the world not to have done the rounds and be able to say “I’ve been there,” but because I want to go and experience that culture, interact with those people, and see life from their perspective. I want the learning and growing of that; I long for the understanding of that. There is nothing deeper in me than this desire to experience every people group in every corner of the world… and to connect with them.

I don’t much care how it happens. I just know it MUST happen.

The writing is my wanting to share those comical moments when two cultures just don’t quite get the other. Sort of that “lost in translation” aspect. Not, I must clarify, to poke fun at either culture, but to show the humor in their meeting and the process of connecting. Then, too, expressing the beauty of these connections and the delight of discovery of… well, friends.

I guess my goal is sort of a cultural anthropologist on speed. Right, I do know that an anthropologist tries to observe more than interact, but still what I seek is understanding and connection on that deeper level that both embraces and transcends cultures.

This passion, this intense focus, that comes with this rather unusual goal is something that cannot be mollified or quelched. In that, however, it is isolating. Many people admire such vision and think they share it, but of these few really want it in practice, and even fewer really understand it. My family cannot really understand it. And, in truth, not understanding this means not understanding me at my core.

My dream is not the accepted “American Dream.” Even on book websites I have been called names and berated and admonished (and those are only the nice things) for these goals. The most harsh are the people that had similar divergent dreams, but fell into routine or made choices that forced them to no longer be able to easily pursue their dreams, so they chided and mocked me.

I, however, have not, will not give in to status quo. It’s a beautiful thing if that’s your dream. It’s my brother’s dream – a home of his own, a wife and a family to raise up in it, the traditional job scenario, active in the local church. I’m so incredibly joy-filled that he has achieved so much of this. But it’s not my dream. It simply never will be. I don’t like the idea of settling down. It makes my bum itch just thinking about it.

Also, I will not apologize for going for it. I won’t even apologize if I fail at it – more than once, if it comes to that, in order to attain it. Because it’s about me going for MY dream, not coming ‘round to someone else’s. And I do seek whatever means and wisdom that is out there to help me find that path to my goal. So in all this, I’m determining that this one will NOT be “the one that got away.”

The world is upside down.

Yesterday was a great day in hockey history. The last three gold medal games were replayed in the last day of the preliminary round, and it was exciting!

The first game, Russia and the Czech Republic, was intense and fast. But even more, there was loads of hitting. Yes, this is my favorite part of the game, but it was more impressive to see so plainly how a single hit can alter the course of the game, as with Alex Ovechkin’s hit on Jaromir Jagr. It was a mid-ice smackdown. And ten seconds later, Evgeni Malkin scored for Russia. Wow. The energy completely shifted, too. The intensity of the game never let up, and the Czechs were in it until a late empty-net goal by Russia that sealed it.

The second game is THE game. Come on, even non hockey fans must have heard about this stunner. The USA taking on favored, powerhouse, home team Canada. If talent had weight, the Canadian team would be an anvil. Not a single person, not media not experts, not really anyone who knows hockey slightly thought that the US men could pull out a win. No one, that is, except them.

I hoped. Hard. I know anything can happen, but I didn’t believe… until they started playing. They were a Team, with a capital “T.” They knew their roles, and they played as a unit. I love a huge amount of the outstanding players on the Canadian team, but great talent, as we well know from history, doesn’t make a great team.

The game was back-and-forth for a while, but the US seemed to dominate momentum and pace, especially later in the game. But goaltender Ryan Miller was on fire, saving 42 shots. Then when Ryan Kesler made a near-miraculous empty net goal, it was unbelievable. The US was going to win. My joy poured forth!

Kudos to NBC, by the way, for playing that entire game (excluding between periods of course) commercial free. Because there are no TV timeouts in the Olympics, the other games would go to commercial and we’d miss segments of the game. So thank you, NBC.

In these first two match ups, the silver medalists toppled their gold medal counterparts from the years before. But in the last game, Sweden versus Finland, it didn’t turn out that way. In fact, it didn’t turn out to be much of a game. Miikka Kiprusoff came to play for Finland, but he didn’t seem to have a lot of help. Sweden dictated play on every level after the first few minutes, blanking Finland. I was disappointed because I really thought this would be the game to round out one of the most amazing days in hockey in recent history. Still, Finland was good enough in preliminary to garner the forth spot, giving them a bye along with all of yesterday’s winners.

What is so astounding about all of this is that now the USA has top ranking, meaning they play the easier teams, and either Russia or Canada will be out before the medal round as they will play each other in the quarter finals provided Canada beats Germany tomorrow. Holy cow. That’s just crazy. These are the teams predicted to be the top two. What an exciting tournament! What a great sport.

I feel guilty for saying this, but between Canada and Russia, I’d rather see Russia continue. Not because I have anything against the amazing players on Canada (save one or two – LOL) nor the country (Vancouver is one of my favorite cities in the world), but because Russia is just a more exciting team to watch. The have a fire that is… fun. They are having fun, so you have fun watching them.

I’m open for any eventualities, and LOVE the unknown of it all. Nothing is a sure thing in this one-game elimination setting that we are entering. But that’s what makes it so exciting! Slovakia or Sweden? Russia or Canada – or does Germany surprise the world and be the ones to take them both down. Now THAT would be a long shot. However it goes, whatever the outcome, it’s an amazing game and I wouldn’t miss this for the world!

...U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!...

What this girl wants.

Hockey. The greatest sport in the world. Now don’t attempt to argue – on this little patch of cyberspace at least you won’t win.

I’m bringing it up today, however, because it’s Olympics time! Woohoo! I always get excited for The Games. I enjoy the entire spectacle, from start to finish; opening ceremonies to closing festivities. From the obscure sports to the little known countries competing to the personal stories of the athletes to learning about the host city and country, I immerse myself in the whole of it.

However, this time with it being in Canada, and being the Winter version, I’m over-the-moon! Hockey played in it’s birthplace on a world scale – flipping awesome!

The thing that makes it all the more exciting and urgent is that this isn’t like the NHL playoffs. Come the finals of this tournament, it’s one game elimination. No best of seven. Just one shot. Your team doesn’t gel one night and your country’s metal chances could be over. So much more thrilling and nail biting this way!

With that in mind, a team like Canada with all that talent and more pressure than most could fathom (particularly after the last Winter Games results of seventh place), might just have an off night. In this one-game final rounds elimination world, even a most unlikely team might emerge… not to mention the other powerhouse of Russia.

I will, of course, cheer for my country. I will also cheer for the players from my NHL team (the San Jose Sharks) on their respective country’s teams. And I will just cheer because it’s that rare thing of world hockey. There is no (real, regular) world cup for hockey, so this is what I’ve got. And I’ll most certainly take it!

I know most girls (who actually like the Olympics) are excited for figure skating or perhaps, if they are more edgy, then some of the more extreme-style sports. But this girl, she just wants to see her some hockey!

For better or for worse.

It’s the middle of the night and I’ve just finished “one of those days.” At the same time, it wasn’t all bad… it just left me melancholy and feeling a bit hopeless.

The good bits? For the first time in a really long time I had someone who listened and told me they were sorry and how much what was happening sucked. To individuals that have always had that, please TRUST ME, count your blessings. The last time I had a far, far worse situation I had a “good friend” tell me in the moment of crisis to just stay away then… at least that was the kindest bit of what they said. It is the most wonderful thing when something yucky happens to have someone listen then simply say, “That completely sucks, I’m so sorry!” So for that I’m overwhelmingly grateful.

The other nice thing was that another person whom hasn’t always made things easy for me actually came to my rescue – graciously. Usually this person has to let me know how much they are sacrificing for me and how I’m putting them out, but today she simply helped. It felt almost miraculous.

Still, the day seemed to want to twist me about his finger (the evil days are generally male… the truly depraved and vicious ones are obviously female). He wanted me to cower. With so many negative things piling up and his fierce vigilance at trying to bring me down, a simple conversation where I perceived that someone of importance in my life didn’t have faith in me for that which I’m striving toward was "the thing." You know, the tipping point. The day got his way. I crumbled.

I tried to process, but get angry when I can’t get past the self flagellation, so I thought escape was a good idea… in the form of organization (my go-to for feeling in control again) and a film. I chose, at random, Up in the Air. A movie about a man who had made an art of pairing down – great right? I’m working on that daily! – and a life of travel – so my goal! – only to discover that it’s all really about connections with people, and he didn’t actually have any. *Sigh.* Yes, let’s make me feel that much more crappy about my life and where I’m heading.

So. How do I then proceed? I’m a person who loves connections, but have never had one that… held out. I’m okay with that. I will continue to enjoy them for however long and on whatever level they are extended. Would it be nice to have one last? Most definitely. But in the mean time, I have to try to go for my dream, one step at a time. Even if it means I may be further isolating myself. I hope that’s not where this leads, but I will pursue regardless.

I’ll survive today’s adversity in large thanks to a lovely connection I have with a great person who knew to say, “I get it and I’m sorry.” I must have faith that my life will be graced with a few others that will also know how to listen and care – whom I can be there for as well. Lastly, I have to believe that whatever others think, I REALLY CAN.

Now to just get my heart to own all that… perhaps sleep is a good place to start. Thank you for indulging me in this reflective rant, and, well, good night.

A great loss.

Mourning is a strange thing, it comes and goes in waves. Today another strong wave hit… about the 10th Doctor Who dying. I’m devastated! (Yes, I know as an alien – a Time Lord – that he has regenerated into a new body and personality, but… that’s not MY doctor.)

I had to overcome a HUGE crush on the character when I first discovered him (and the show). David Tennant as The Doctor was everything I wanted in a man – clever, funny, geek-hot, tall & thin, snappy dresser, genius, personable, time & space traveler, a wordsmith, an adventurer, loves people… you get the picture. My only salvation was that he didn’t have a Scottish accent – my ultimate Achilles heel. How much more difficult do you suppose it was to overcome that crush once I found out that the actor himself IS actually Scottish?? But it’s The Doctor I wanted (want). As for my dream man being an alien… figures.

If you are a follower of the show, you’ll know of all the amazing adventures he had, as well as be familiar with the wit and humor that was part of his genius. If you are not, indulge me just a moment (but keep reading!)…

How great were the episodes with River Song, the Vashta Nerada, and that awesome library planet?! I mean, River was so bold, take charge, and adventurous, yet completely feminine and sweet, not to mention brave and sacrificially loving. But the Vashta Nerada? Beings that prove that being afraid of the dark is not irrational? Oooo! Super scary! Plus a planet that WAS a library. AWESOME.

“Blink,” one of the best episodes out there, was so fantastic with weeping angel statues that were an evil alien race – taking the innocuous and making it menacing = genius! Also, best line in that episode is found here… “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey… stuff.”

I loved the episode “42” (with Martha Jones). That a sun could be a sentient being was cool and fascinating, but way more interesting was the race for survival on that tiny cargo ship… and that trivia was how to break the locks – really funny.

But most of all, any episode with Donna Noble as a companion was a favorite. She was absolutely hilarious and matched The Doctor’s gumption and spunk and wit moment-by-moment! I’m just so sad it’s all really over. *Must not cry.*

Talking scifi tech, one of the coolest things created in the genre at large is the TARDIS (“Time And Relative Dimensions In Space”). This is a machine that travels through time and space, but here’s the cool thing… it’s bigger on the inside. I WANT THAT!! How amazing would that be? I could travel the world – or indeed, many, many worlds – and have my things with me. I mean, I’m not a pack-rat, but getting to travel with my bicycle and my library would be pretty great. Even if I could just use it to wander this planet, it’d be a dream!

But in “reality,” I’d want to travel in it WITH The (10th) Doctor. Thus my dream of becoming The Doctor’s companion. I mean, I want to be a mermaid when I grow up, but as it’s not very likely that will happen (me growing up, I mean), being The Doctor’s companion seems a good goal to pursue until then.

That’s right, pick me!