What I found.

Over the last weeks while researching other things I've come across some pictures that made me laugh at...

the whimsy
the ironythe sweetness
the perpexity
the hilarity

...of life and us in it. Hope you laugh today!

The Doctor is in.

Several weeks back the latest series of Doctor Who with the Eleventh Doctor, Matt Smith, began. My doctor is, and always will be, the Tenth Doctor, David Tennant. I sang Tennant’s praises early on in my blog. He is, quite frankly, my dream guy – crazy-smart, tall & thin, sassy, great sense of style, loves adventure, travels through space and time… and yes, I know he’s an alien. And fictional. I can’t set myself up for disappointment much more completely than that… but I digress.

I was inclined at the outset to dislike Matt Smith as The Doctor. I mean, how can I appreciate anyone who follows up my favorite? Beyond that, he’s just so young, and that’s bothersome because it’s hard to then see him as the 900-and-something-year-old that he is. He doesn’t have any experience in his eyes. To me that is an important quality to have in The Doctor.

However, while so far I feel a bit like Doctor the 11th is a watered down version of #10, I am enjoying the show. His companion Amelia “Amy” Pond, for one, is clever and funny. And Scottish. I adore how they met. The scene early on where she feeds him – one of the funniest things I’ve watched in years. And as a whole, the show is still as fun as ever.

The sass is, I think, what I miss the most. The Tenth Doctor was full of piss and vinegar, and several of his companions were as well – especially Donna Noble. The verbal banter was mouthwateringly good. Also, I think so far I haven’t felt The Doctor’s intensity and strength; that fierceness that, coupled with his sense of adventure, drives him. His vulnerability has been present, but so far not his venom.

Perhaps that’s who this Doctor is, though. I’m okay with that, but it will take some getting used to. Perhaps when I can finally quit comparing, I will be able to more fully enjoy this new Doctor. One thing’s certain, though… I’m still watching!

(Love the new logo!)

The devious nature of inanimate objects.

I love books. Passionately. I do NOT, however, love mass market books. You know the ones – 4” x 6 3/4”, horrid rough and dark pages, smells disgusting, frustrating to keep open (especially if it’s a long one), yellow quickly (like as you read it). I abhor them.

No really, I think they are evil. Well, since last night I do. You see, I was reading one, ignoring my sore hand from holding the nearly 800 page volume open and trying not to destroy the spine, while laying on my stomach. Because I was leaning on my elbows, I was holding it closer to my face than when I’m sitting properly.

Now, I already know that holding one of these Godforsaken volumes means that my hands get so dry touching those pages that even after I’ve put the volume down for the day, when I apply lotion, within two minutes I need more as my skin is still parched. That’s horrible.

But it’s nothing to last night. Because the book was closer to my face, I was breathing in that… shite. Apparently something – I can’t begin to guess what exactly – from the pages of the book was inhaled and imbedded in my lung. I was hacking almost all night. Whatever I did, nothing seemed to sooth it. It was like that one molecule was sucking out all the moisture in my chest. I was barking like a sea lion. The gallon of water did nothing (except make me need to pee), covering my mouth in order to breath in the warm moisture of my own breath did nothing, finally the third Sucrets allowed me to get to sleep.

I want to chuck this book and all the other mass market volumes I own at the person who came up with such an abhorrent idea. Cheap bastard. Except, I want to find out what happens in the story. I’m torn.

One thing is for sure, I’m gathering all the ones I’ve read that don’t have sentimental value and am selling them to the used bookstore. I don’t want to wake up to find that while I was sleeping the mass market paperbacks attacked and left me completely void of moisture – meaning I’m cracking everywhere so that when a breeze comes through the open window, I blow away like dust. Like I said, EVIL.

Wanting more.

So all day today I’ve been going through Stephen Fry withdrawals. If you’ve been reading here long (or if you’ve actually looked at my sidebar), you’ll know I love Craig Ferguson. But Stephen Fry is a whole other level of respect and adoration. Well, last night Craig Ferguson interviewed Stephen Fry old school style – no audience, just the two of them talking for the entire show. It was fantastic. I mean, it wasn’t the usual hilarity Craig brings every night, but it was endearing and smart and wonderful. And I want more.

The interview, or really the conversation, touched on some very interesting things. And what I found in the midst of it was that Mr. Fry and I have an great deal in common when it comes to perspective.

For one thing, I’ve always felt that it was so odd that one word can be a “bad” word, whereas a word that means the same thing is acceptable. I also found it odd just what the words meant that were considered bad… not hater or killer or abuser, but fucker. Hmm. Here’s Mr. Fry’s words on the topic:

If an alien was looking down on us and inspecting our language, they would see that the worst that we do on this planet is that we torture, we kill, we abuse, we harm people. We’re cruel. And those are the things in which we should be ashamed. Amongst the best things we do is we breed children, we raise them, and we make love to each other. We adore each other; we’re affectionate and fond of each other. Those are the good things we do.

And they would say how odd that the language for the awful things is used casually all the time. “Oh the traffic was agony - it was hell - it was cruel. Oh it was torture waiting in line.” You use words like torture – that’s the worst word! And yet if we use the “F” word which is the word for generating our species, for showing physical affection one to another, then we’re taken off air and accused of being wicked and irresponsible and a bad influence to children. Now we’re part of this culture so we often don’t question it. But if you think of someone outside of it, it is very strange.

As always, most cleverly put.

Early on Craig said when they knew each other years before how he always felt that Mr. Fry had it all together. His response was so true to the nature of the human psyche.

This is sort of a truth about all humans… You arrive at a party and everyone, in your mind, is armed with a club and all you have is a little Q-tip behind your back. And you think somehow everybody else was at a lesson at school where they learnt some life trick that you will never know because you missed that lesson and you will never catch up... and they think the same as you.

Isn’t that just the way of things, especially in our youth? We think somehow we are missing the punch line to THE joke; the secret ingredient to life, but everyone else knows it and isn’t sharing. I think the wisdom that comes of experience can change this perception, but indeed, not always... or rather, not everyone gains this wisdom in life.

The whole of the show held such insights, but as a whole it was simply captivating. Because of the unique style of this show, two friends talking without an audience, I rather felt like I was the one chatting with Steven Fry. It’s quite disconcerting to find I can’t enjoy a cuppa and a conversation with him again sometime.

Speaking of cups, I did notice that for the first time ever, I believe, Craig gave his guest THE SAME rattlesnake mug as he uses. He’s given the smaller version on rare occasions, but never “the real thing.” That’s some respect right there!

I wanted to end with the W.H. Auden line that Mr. Fry quoted in response to Craig’s tattoo which reads “Live free or die,” because again it is to the heart of my philosophy…

“We must love one another or die.”

**********

Addendum: Yes, I know I referred to Craig Ferguson informally as “Craig,” and to Stephen Fry as “Mr. Fry,” but when you think of each of them and how we know them… can you blame me??

The following story...

So to follow that last post up, I have to say that I began reading Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman today. I’d been wanting to for some time and had finally collected a copy of my own this weekend. Early on, he says this (page 13):

“Richard had noticed that events were cowards: they didn’t occur singly, but instead they would run in packs and leap out at him all at once.”

How disappointing not to be the first to come up with this idea. Even more, it is depressing that he said it so much better and more succinctly. And then, too, how queer that we used the same turn of phrase.

I must confess a further strangeness in that it is only after reading the comment posted by Miss Eliza on that last post which prompted me to begin reading this book at this moment. It’s a bizarre sort of whirlwind of connections, which is underscored by what was contained in Miss Eliza’s comments, and of which I will now repeat here:

This reminds me of a post I read on Neil Gaiman's website today, it's the real truth that should be universally acknowledged:

Strange moments of juxtaposition that make you feel like you're living in a novel:

It had been the kind of day that meant I never quite got to look at the post. After dinner I opened the various packages on the kitchen table.

The first thing I opened was a secondhand copy of The Inner Hebrides and their Legends by Otta F. Swire, and I opened it to a random page and read, "...the third of May, when the Devil and his angels were cast out of heaven (and therefore 3rd May is a day on which no important undertaking should be begun and on which it is unpardonable to commit a crime)..."

That's interesting, I thought. I could put that in a story, the next time I need a date of ill-omen. I put the book down.

I opened the next envelope. It was huge, and came from Bloomsbury books in the UK, and contained – well, what it contained was on the note accompanying it, which said, in tidy handwriting:

Dear Neil
I'm delighted to enclose proofs of the Bloomsbury edition of "Instructions" (to be published on 3rd May).
With best wishes,
Madeleine

That's a bit heavy-handed, I thought. If I were writing this, I'd drop the 3rd May date in on something that happened tomorrow, to give everyone reading a chance to forget.

Real life is so strangely written, sometimes.

To add one more oddity, this book seems to be about this very thing - odd occurrences and connections that lead us to the most unusual situations... sometimes even to the incredible and unbelievable.

"...big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey."

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!

Boys to men.

So I’m a girl who is not, I suppose, actually a girl so much as a woman. I am, however, a kid at heart, loving to play and be silly. I’m a very active person, too. All of this lends to me generally dating men quite a bit younger than I am. Um, like 11 – 16 years younger. (Hey all you teens with incredibly oily skin, don’t you worry – it will pay off as you’ll always look younger than you are... even if it’s mostly because you still have zits at 40. I’m just saying...)

So this time it’s rather nice to be involved with someone who knows how to pay bills on his own, likes a clean space, gets references to 80’s movies, and doesn’t have homework to do before we can hang out! Okay, yes he’s still younger, but it’s a more reasonable range… and hopefully those few years means he can keep up with me!

I mentioned before that he lives quite a distance. I cannot begin to say how frustrating this is… yet making it more bearable is that, as actual adults, we have conversations which aren’t limited to a select few things since he doesn’t feel intimidated by my experience and knowledge. So all-in-all, I’m having a great time! Thanks, Toughguy*!

I did have a story about the last guy I saw regularly. Bookboy* and I have remained friends and go out for a movie and drinks now and then to catch up, so when Christmas came along he gave me a gift. It was a specially made pink, man’s T-shirt that reads, “I ♥ Craig Ferguson.” I sat there wanting to laugh-out-loud thinking, “Is he trying to tell me why we’re no longer dating?” A girl can love in many different ways – he needn’t be threatened! It’d make a good email to Craig, though...

In the end, it was a “good idea, bad idea” kind of thing. It was not very practical as I neither wear pale pink nor men’s wear (and he should have known this, really), though it was thoughtful because I am a huge Ferguson fan. Ferguson’s humor is exactly my speed and style. Bookboy is a Fallon fan. So, actually it does sum up why we’re not together. I am not young-and-hip, am looking for something more than just “cute,” and prefer humor that is off the cuff, clever, and sometimes rather naughty!

* Names have been changed to protect the not-at-all innocent.

(I must end this by saying that though Bookboy and his gift both come off sounding rather bad, he's a good guy and I do like the gift a lot... but what kind of story would this be without poking some fun??)